We return to Ruan church, whence this history started. The parson was there in his surplice, by the altar; the bride was there in her white frock, by the chancel rails; her father, by her side, was looking at his watch; and the parishioners thronged1 the nave2, shuffling3 their feet and loudly speculating. For the bridegroom had not appeared.
Ruby4’s face was white as her frock. Parson Babbage kept picking up the heavy Prayer-book, opening it, and laying it down impatiently. Occasionally, as one of the congregation scraped an impatient foot, a metallic6 sound made itself heard, and the buzz of conversation would sink for a moment, as if by magic.
For beneath the seats, and behind the women’s gowns, the whole pavement of the church was covered with a fairly representative collection of cast-off kitchen utensils—old kettles, broken cake-tins, frying-pans, saucepans—all calculated to emit dismal7 sounds under percussion8. Scattered9 among these were ox-bells, rook-rattles, a fog-horn or two, and a tin trumpet10 from Liskeard fair. Explanation is simple: the outraged11 feelings of the parish were to be avenged12 by a shal-lal as bride and bridegroom left the church. Ruby knew nothing of the storm brewing13 for her, but Mary Jane, whose ears had been twice boxed that morning, had heard a whisper of it on her way down to the church, and was confirmed in her fears by observing the few members of the congregation who entered after her. Men and women alike suffered from an unwonted corpulence and tightness of raiment that morning, and each and all seemed to have cast the affliction off as they arose from their knees. It was too late to interfere14, so she sat still and trembled.
Still the bridegroom did not come.
“A more onpresidented feat15 I don’t recall,” remarked Uncle Issy to a group that stood at the west end under the gallery, “not since ‘Melia Spry’s buryin’, when the devil, i’ the shape of a black pig, followed us all the way to the porch.”
“That was a brave while ago, Uncle.”
“Iss, iss; but I mind to this hour how we bearers perspired—an’ she such a light-weight corpse17. But plague seize my old emotions!—we’m come to marry, not to bury.”
“By the look o’t ’tis’ neither marry nor bury, Nim nor Doll,” observed Old Zeb, who had sacrificed his paternal18 feelings and come to church in order to keep abreast19 with the age; “’tis more like Boscastle Fair, begin at twelve o’clock an’ end at noon. Why tarry the wheels of his chariot?”
“’Tis possible Young Zeb an’ he have a-met ‘pon the road hither,” hazarded Calvin Oke by a wonderful imaginative effort; “an’ ’tis possible that feelings have broke loose an’ one o’ the twain be swelterin’ in his own bloodshed, or vicey-versey.”
“I heard tell of a man once,” said Uncle Issy, “that committed murder upon another for love; but, save my life, I can’t think ‘pon his name, nor where ’t befell.”
“What an old store-house ’tis!” ejaculated Elias Sweetland, bending a contemplative gaze on Uncle Issy.
“Mark her pale face, naybours,” put in a woman; “an’ Tresidder, he looks like a man that’s neither got nor lost.”
“Trew, trew.”
“Quarter past the hour, I make it,” said Old Zeb, pulling out his timepiece.
Still the bridegroom tarried.
Higher up the church, in the front pew but one, Modesty20 Prowse said aloud to Sarah Ann Nan Julian—
“If he doesn’ look sharp, we’ll be married before she after all.”
Ruby heard the sneer21, and answered it with a look of concentrated spite. Probably she would have risked her dignity to retort, had not Parson Babbage advanced down the chancel at this juncture22.
“Has anyone seen the bridegroom today?” he inquired of Tresidder. “Or will you send some one to hurry him?”
“Be danged if I know,” the farmer began testily23, mopping his bald head, and then he broke off, catching24 sound of a stir among the folk behind.
“Here he be-here he be at last!” cried somebody. And with that a hush25 of bewilderment fell on the congregation.
In the doorway26, flushed with running and glorious in bridal attire27, stood Young Zeb.
It took everybody’s breath away, and he walked up the nave between silent men and women. His eyes were fastened on Ruby, and she in turn stared at him as a rabbit at a snake, shrinking slightly on her father’s arm. Tresidder’s jaw28 dropped, and his eyes began to protrude29.
“What’s the meanin’ o’ this?” he stammered30.
“I’ve come to marry your daughter,” answered Zeb, very slow and distinct. “She was to wed16 Zebedee Minards today, an’ I’m Zebedee Minards.”
“But—”
“I’ve a note to hand to each of ‘ee. Better save your breath till you’ve read ’em.”
He delivered the two notes, and stood, tapping a toe on the tiles, in the bridegroom’s place on the right of the chancel-rails.
“Damnation!”
“Mr. Tresidder,” interrupted the parson, “I like a man to swear off his rage if he’s upset, but I can’t allow it in the church.”
“I don’t care if you do or you don’t.”
“Then do it, and I’ll kick you out with this very boot.”
The farmer’s face was purple, and big veins31 stood out by his temples.
“I’ve been cheated,” he growled32. Zeb, who had kept his eyes on Ruby, stepped quickly towards her. First picking up the paper that had drifted to the pavement, he crushed it into his pocket. He then took her hand. It was cold and damp.
“Parson, will ‘ee marry us up, please?”
“You haven33’t asked if she’ll have you.”
“No, an’ I don’t mean to. I didn’t come to ax questions—that’s your business—but to answer.”
“Will you marry this man?” demanded the parson, turning to Ruby.
Zeb’s hand still enclosed hers, and she felt she was caught and held for life. Her eyes fluttered up to her lover’s face, and found it inexorable.
“Yes,” she gasped34 out, as if the word had been suffocating35 her. And with the word came a rush of tears—helpless, but not altogether unhappy.
“Dry your eyes,” said Parson Babbage, after waiting a minute; “we must be quick about it.”
So it happened that the threatened shal-lal came to nothing. Susan Jago, the old woman who swept the church, discovered its forgotten apparatus36 scattered beneath the pews on the following Saturday, and cleared it out, to the amount (she averred) of two cart-loads. She tossed it, bit by bit, over the west wall of the churchyard, where in time it became a mound37, covered high with sting-nettles38. If you poke39 among these nettles with your walking-stick, the odds40 are that you turn up a scrap5 of rusty41 iron. But there exists more explicit42 testimony43 to Zeb’s wedding within the church—and within the churchyard, too, where he and Ruby have rested this many a year.
Though the bubble of Farmer Tresidder’s dreams was pricked44 that day, there was feasting at Sheba until late in the evening. Nor until eleven did the bride and bridegroom start off, arm in arm, to walk to their new home. Before them, at a considerable distance, went the players and singers—a black blur45 on the moonlit road; and very crisply their music rang out beneath a sky scattered with cloud and stars. All their songs were simple carols of the country, and the burden of them was but the joy of man at Christ’s nativity; but the young man and maid who walked behind were well pleased.
“Now then,” cried the voice of Old Zeb, “lads an’ lasses all together an’ wi’ a will—”
All under the leaves, an the leaves o’ life,
An’ one o’ them was Mary mild,
Our Lord’s mother of Heaven.
‘O what are ‘ee seekin’, you seven fair maids,
All under the leaves o life;
Come tell, come tell, what seek ye
All under the leaves o’ life?’
‘We’re seekin’ for no leaves, Thomas,
But for a friend o’ thine,
We’re seekin’ for sweet Jesus Christ
To be our guide an’ thine.’
‘Go down, go down, to yonder town
An’ sit in the gallery,
An there you’ll see sweet Jesus Christ
Nailed to a big yew-tree.’
So down they went to yonder town
As fast as foot could fall,
An’ many a grievous bitter tear
From the Virgin’s eye did fall.
‘O peace, Mother—O peace, Mother,
Your weepin’ doth me grieve;
I must suffer this,’ he said,
‘For Adam an’ for Eve.
‘O Mother, take John Evangelist
All for to be your son,
An’ he will comfort you sometimes
Mother, as I’ve a-done.’
‘O come, thou John Evangelist,
Thou’rt welcome unto me,
But more welcome my own dear Son
Whom I nursed on my knee.’
Then he laid his head ‘pon his right shoulder
Seein death it struck him nigh;
‘The holy Mother be with your soul—
I die, Mother, I die.’
O the rose, the gentle rose,
An the fennel that grows so green!
God gi’e us grace in every place
To pray for our king an’ queen.
Furthermore, for our enemies all
Our prayers they should be strong;
Amen, good Lord; your charity
Is the endin’ of my song!
In the midst of this carol Ruby, with a light pull on Zeb’s arm, brought him to a halt.
“How lovely it all is, Zeb!” She looked upwards47 at the flying moon, then dropped her gaze over the frosty sea, and sighed gently. “Just now I feel as if I’d been tossin’ out yonder through many fierce days an’ nights an’ were bein’ taken at last to a safe haven. You’ll have to make a good wife of me, Zeb. I wonder if you’ll do ’t.”
Zeb followed the direction of her eyes, and seemed to discern off Bradden Point a dot of white, as of a ship in sail. He pressed her arm to his side, but said nothing.
“Clear your throats, friends,” shouted his father, up the road, “an’ let fly—”
As I sat on a sunny bank,
—A sunny bank, a sunny bank,
As I sat on a sunny bank
On Chris’mas day i’ the mornin,
I saw dree ships come sailin’ by,
—A-sailin’ by, a-sailin’ by,
I saw dree ships come sailin’ by
On Chris’mas day i’ the mornin’.
Now who shud be i’ these dree ships—
And to this measure Zeb and Ruby stepped home.
At the cottage door Zeb thanked the singers, who went their way and flung back shouts and joyful48 wishes as they went. Before making all fast for the night, he stood a minute or so, listening to their voices as they died away down the road. As he barred the door, he turned and saw that Ruby had lit the lamp, and was already engaged in setting the kitchen to rights; for, of course, no such home-coming had been dreamt of in the morning, and all was in disorder49. He stood and watched her for a while, then turned to the window.
After a minute or two, finding that he did not speak, she too came to the window. He bent50 and kissed her.
For he had seen, on the patch of sea beyond the haven, a white frigate51 steal up Channel like a ghost. She had passed out of his sight by this time, but he was still thinking of one man that she bore.
The End
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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percussion
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| n.打击乐器；冲突，撞击；震动，音响 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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outraged
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| a.震惊的，义愤填膺的 | |
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12
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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21
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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22
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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23
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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24
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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25
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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26
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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27
attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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28
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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29
protrude
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| v.使突出，伸出，突出 | |
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30
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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32
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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33
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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34
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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35
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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36
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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37
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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38
nettles
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| n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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40
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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41
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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42
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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43
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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44
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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45
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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46
virgins
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| 处女，童男( virgin的名词复数 )； 童贞玛利亚（耶稣之母） | |
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47
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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48
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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49
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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50
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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51
frigate
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| n.护航舰，大型驱逐舰 | |
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