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Page 86
Who that has seen the Cumberland moors and fells in July can ever forget
them?--the yellow broom and purple heather, the pink and white waxen
balls of the rare vacciniums, the red-leaved sundew, the asphodels, the
cranberries and blueberries and bilberries, and the wonderful green
mosses in all the wetter places; and, above and around all, the great
mountain chains veiled in pale, ethereal atmosphere, and rising in it as
airy and unsubstantial as if they could tremble in unison with every
thrill of the ether above them.
It was thus they looked, and thus the fells and the moors looked, one
day in July, eighteen months after the death of Squire William
Sandal,--his daughter Charlotte's wedding-day. From far and near, the
shepherd boys and lasses were travelling down the craggy ways, making
all the valleys ring to their wild and simple songs, and ever and anon
the bells rung out in joyful peals; and from Up-Hill to Seat-Sandal, and
around the valley to Latrigg Hall, there were happy companies telling
each other, "Oh, how beautiful was the bride with her golden hair
flowing down over her dress of shining white satin!" "And how proud and
handsome the bridegroom!" "And how lovely in their autumn days the two
mothers! Mistress Alice Sandal leaning so confidently upon the arm of
the stately Mrs. Ducie Sandal." "And how glad was the good rector!"
Little work, either in field or house or fellside, was done that day;
for, when all has been said about human selfishness, this truth
abides,--in the main, we do rejoice with those who rejoice, and we do
weep with those who weep.
The old Seat was almost gay in the sunshine, all its windows open for
the wandering breezes, and its great hall doors set wide for the feet of
the new squire and his bride. For they were too wise to begin their
married life by going away from their home; they felt that it was better
to come to it with the bridal benediction in their ears, and the
sunshine of the wedding-day upon their faces.
The ceremony had been delayed some months, for Stephen had been in
America seeking Harry; seeking him in the great cities and in the lonely
mining-camps, but never coming upon his foot steps until they had been
worn away into forgetfulness. At last the rector wrote to him, "Return
home, Stephen. We are both wrong. It is not human love, but God love,
that must seek the lost ones. If you found Harry now, and brought him
back, it would be too soon. When his lesson is learned, the heart of God
will be touched, and he will say, 'That will do, my son. Arise, and go
home.'"
And when Mrs. Sandal smiled through her tears, for the hope's sake, he
took her hand, and added solemnly, "Be confident and glad, you shall see
Harry come joyfully to his own home. Oh, if you could only listen,
angels still talk with men! Raphael, the affable angel, loves to bring
them confidences. God also speaks to his children in dreams, and by the
oracles that wait in darkness. If we know not, it is because we ask not.
But I know, and am sure, that Harry will return in joy and in peace. And
if the dead look over the golden bar of heaven upon their earthly homes,
Barf Latrigg, seeing the prosperity of the two houses, which stand upon
his love and his self-denial, will say once more to his friend,
'William, I did well to Sandal.'"
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