The Pirate
have not their affections in their power; and it is a child's duty to be
grateful for the benefits which he receives, even when coldly bestowed.
My father has conferred instruction on me, and I am convinced he loves
me. He is unfortunate; and, even if he loved me not"----
"And he does _not_ love you," said Norna, hastily; "he never loved any
thing, or any one, save himself. He is unfortunate, but well are his
misfortunes deserved.--O Mordaunt, you have one parent only,--one
parent, who loves you as the drops of the heart-blood!"
"I know I have but one parent," replied Mordaunt; "my mother has been
long dead.--But your words contradict each other."
"They do not--they do not," said Norna, in a paroxysm of the deepest
feeling; "you have but one parent. Your unhappy mother is not dead--I
would to God that she were!--but she is not dead. Thy mother is the only
parent that loves thee; and I--I, Mordaunt," throwing herself on his
neck, "am that most unhappy--yet most happy mother."
She closed him in a strict and convulsive embrace; and tears, the first,
perhaps, which she had shed for many years, burst in torrents as she
sobbed on his neck. Astonished at what he heard, felt, and saw,--moved
by the excess of her agitation, yet disposed to ascribe this burst of
passion to insanity,--Mordaunt vainly endeavoured to tranquillize the
mind of this extraordinary person.
"Ungrateful boy!" she said, "who but a mother would have watched over
thee as I have watched? From the instant I saw thy father, when he
little thought by whom he was observed, a space now many years back, I
knew him well; and, under his charge, I saw you, then a
stripling,--while Nature, speaking loud in my bosom, assured me, thou
wert blood of my blood, and bone of my bone. Think how often you have
wondered to see me, when least expected, in your places of pastime and
resort! Think how often my eye has watched you on the giddy precipices,
and muttered those charms which subdue the evil demons, who show
themselves to the climber on the giddiest point of his path, and force
him to quit his hold! Did I not hang around thy neck, in pledge of thy
safety, that chain of gold, which an Elfin King gave to the founder of
our race? Would I have given that dear gift to any but to the son of my
bosom?--Mordaunt, my power has done that for thee that a mere mortal
mother would dread to think of. I have conjured the Mermaid at midnight,
that thy bark might be prosperous on the Haaf! I have hushed the winds,
and navies have flapped their empty sails against the mast in
inactivity, that you might safely indulge your sport upon the crags!"
Mordaunt, perceiving that she was growing yet wilder in her talk,
endeavoured to frame an answer which should be at once indulgent,
soothing, and calculated to allay the rising warmth of her imagination.
"Dear Norna," he said, "I have indeed many reasons to call you mother,
who have bestowed so many benefits upon me; and from me you shall ever
receive the affection and duty of a child. But the chain you mentioned,
it has vanished from my neck--I have not seen it since the ruffian
stabbed me."
"Alas! and can you think of it at this moment?" said Norna, in a
sorrowful accent.--"But be it so;--and know, it was I took it from thy
neck, and tied it around the neck of her who is dearest to you; in token
that the union betwixt you, which has been the only earthly wish which
I have had the power to form, shall yet, even yet, be accomplished--ay,
although hell should open to forbid the bans!"
"Alas!" said Mordaunt, with a sigh, "you remember not the difference
betwixt our situation--her father is wealthy, and of ancient birth."
"Not more wealthy than will be the heir of Norna of Fitful-head,"
answered the Pythoness--"not of better or more ancient blood than that
which flows in thy veins, derived from thy mother, the descendant of the
same Jarls and Sea-Kings from whom Magnus boasts his origin.--Or dost
thou think, like the pedant and fanatic strangers who have come amongst
us, that thy blood is dishonoured because my union with thy father did
not receive the sanction of a priest?--Know, that we were wedded after
the ancient manner of the Norse--our hands were clasped within the
circle of Odin,[32] with such deep vows of eternal fidelity, as even the
laws of these usurping Scots would have sanctioned as equivalent to a
blessing before the altar. To the offspring of such a union, Magnus has
nought to object. It was weak--it was criminal, on my part, but it
conveyed no infamy to the birth of my son."
The composed and collected manner in which Norna argued these points
began to impose upon Mordaunt an incipient belief in the truth of what
she said; and, indeed, she added so many circumstances, satisfactorily
and rationally connected with each other, as seemed to confute the
notion that her story was altogether the delusion of that insanity which
sometimes showed itself in her speech and actions. A thousand confused
ideas rushed upon him, when he supposed it possible that the unhappy
person before him might actually have a right to claim from him the
respect and affection due to a parent from a son. He could only surmount
them by turning his mind to a different, and scarce less interesting
topic, resolving within himself to take time for farther enquiry and
mature consideration, ere he either rejected or admitted the claim which
Norna preferred upon his affection and duty. His benefactress, at least,
she undoubtedly was, and he could not err in paying her, as such, the
respect and attention due from a son to a mother; and so far, therefore,
he might gratify Norna without otherwise standing committed.
"And do you then really think, my mother,--since so you bid me term
you,"--said Mordaunt, "that the proud Magnus Troil may, by any
inducement, be prevailed upon to relinquish the angry feelings which he
has of late adopted towards me, and to permit my addresses to his
daughter Brenda?"
"Brenda?" repeated Norna--"who talks of Brenda?--it was of Minna that I
spoke to you."
"But it was of Brenda that I thought," replied Mordaunt, "of her that I
now think, and of her alone that I will ever think."
"Impossible, my son!" replied Norna. "You cannot be so dull of heart, so
poor of spirit, as to prefer the idle mirth and housewife simplicity of
the younger sister, to the deep feeling and high mind of the
noble-spirited Minna? Who would stoop to gather the lowly violet, that
might have the rose for stretching out his hand?"
"Some think the lowliest flowers are the sweetest," replied Mordaunt,
"and in that faith will I live and die."
"You dare not tell me so!" answered Norna, fiercely; then, instantly
changing her tone, and taking his hand in the most affectionate manner,
she proceeded:--"You must not--you will not tell me so, my dear son--you
will not break a mother's heart in the very first hour in which she has
embraced her child!--Nay, do not answer, but hear me. You must wed
Minna--I have bound around her neck a fatal amulet, on which the
happiness of both depends. The labours of my life have for years had
this direction. Thus it must be, and not otherwise--Minna must be the
bride of my son!"
"But is not Brenda equally near, equally dear to you?" replied Mordaunt.
"As near in blood," said Norna, "but not so dear, no not half so dear,
in affection. Minna's mild, yet high and contemplative spirit, renders
her a companion meet for one, whose ways, like mine, are beyond the
ordinary paths of this world. Brenda is a thing of common and ordinary
life, an idle laugher and scoffer, who would level art with ignorance,
and reduce power to weakness, by disbelieving and turning into ridicule
whatever is beyond the grasp of her own shallow intellect."
"She is, indeed," answered Mordaunt, "neither superstitious nor
enthusiastic, and I love her the better for it. Remember also, my
mother, that she returns my affection, and that Minna, if she loves any
one, loves the stranger Cleveland."
"She does not--she dares not," answered Norna, "nor dares he pursue her
farther. I told him, when first he came to Burgh-Westra, that I destined
her for you."
"And to that rash annunciation," said Mordaunt, "I owe this man's
persevering enmity--my wound, and wellnigh the loss of my life. See, my
mother, to what point your intrigues have already conducted us, and, in
Heaven's name, prosecute them no farther!"
It seemed as if this reproach struck Norna with the force, at once, and
vivacity of lightning; for she struck her forehead with her hand, and
seemed about to drop from her seat. Mordaunt, greatly shocked, hastened
to catch her in his arms, and, though scarce knowing what to say,
attempted to utter some incoherent expressions.
"Spare me, Heaven, spare me!" were the first words which she muttered;
"do not let my crime be avenged by his means!--Yes, young man," she
said, after a pause, "you have dared to tell what I dared not tell
myself. You have pressed that upon me, which, if it be truth, I cannot
believe, and yet continue to live!"
Mordaunt in vain endeavoured to interrupt her with protestations of his
ignorance how he had offended or grieved her, and of his extreme regret
that he had unintentionally done either. She proceeded, while her voice
trembled wildly, with vehemence.
"Yes! you have touched on that dark suspicion which poisons the
consciousness of my power,--the sole boon which was given me in exchange
for innocence and for peace of mind! Your voice joins that of the demon
which, even while the elements confess me their mistress, whispers to
me, 'Norna, this is but delusion--your power rests but in the idle
belief of the ignorant, supported by a thousand petty artifices of your
own.'--This is what Brenda says--this is what you would say; and false,
scandalously false, as it is, there are rebellious thoughts in this wild
brain of mine," (touching her forehead with her finger as she spoke,)
"that, like an insurrection in an invaded country, arise to take part
against their distressed sovereign.--Spare me, my son!" she continued in
a voice of supplication, "spare me!--the sovereignty of which your words
would deprive me, is no enviable exaltation. Few would covet to rule
over gibbering ghosts, and howling winds, and raging currents. My throne
is a cloud, my sceptre a meteor, my realm is only peopled with
fantasies; but I must either cease to be, or continue to be the
mightiest as well as the most miserable of beings!"[33]
"Do not speak thus mournfully, my dear and unhappy benefactress," said
Mordaunt, much affected; "I will think of your power whatever you would
have me believe. But, for your own sake, view the matter otherwise. Turn
your thoughts from such agitating and mystical studies--from such wild
subjects of contemplation, into another and a better channel. Life will
again have charms, and religion will have comforts, for you."
She listened to him with some composure, as if she weighed his counsel,
and desired to be guided by it; but, as he ended, she shook her head and
exclaimed--
"It cannot be. I must remain the dreaded--the mystical--the
Reimkennar--the controller of the elements, or I must be no more! I have
no alternative, no middle station. My post must be high on yon lofty
headland, where never stood human foot save mine--or I must sleep at the
bottom of the unfathomable ocean, its white billows booming over my
senseless corpse. The parricide shall never also be denounced as the
impostor!"
"The parricide!" echoed Mordaunt, stepping back in horror.
"Yes, my son!" answered Norna, with a stern composure, even more
frightful than her former impetuosity, "within these fatal walls my
father met his death by my means. In yonder chamber was he found a livid