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Read Ebook: Cousin Mary by Oliphant Mrs Margaret
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Ebook has 595 lines and 67470 words, and 12 pages
A tabernacle. Lamps. An open book lies on a table. Baptized Jews.
THE BAPTIZED. My wretched brethren; my revenge-seeking, beloved brethren! let us suck nourishment from the pages of the Talmud, as from the breast of our mother; it is the breast of life from which strength and honey flow for us, bitterness and poison for our enemies.
CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Jehovah is our God, and ours alone; therefore has He scattered us in every land!
Like the coiled folds of an enormous serpent, He has wreathed us everywhere round and through the adorers of the cross; our lithe and subtile rings pass round and through our foolish, proud, unclean rulers.
Let us thrice spew them forth to destruction! Threefold curses light upon them!
THE BAPTIZED. Rejoice, my brethren! the Cross of our Great Enemy is already more than half hewn down; it is rotting to its fall; it is only standing on a root of blood: if it once plunge into the abyss it will never rise again. Hitherto the nobles have been its sole defence, but they are ours! ours!
CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Our work, our long, long work of centuries, our sad, ardent, painful work is almost done!
Death to the nobles--let us thrice spew them forth to destruction! Threefold curses light upon them!
CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. The cross is now our holy symbol; the water of baptism has reunited us with men; the scorning repose upon the love of the scorned!
The freedom of men is our cry; the welfare of the people our aim; ha! ha! the eons of Christ trust the sons of Caiaphas!
Centuries ago our fathers tortured our Great Enemy to death; we will again torture him to death this very day--but He will never rise more from the grave which we prepare for Him!
THE BAPTIZED. Yet a little space, a little time, a few drops of poison, and the whole world will be our own, my brethren!
CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Jehovah is the God of Israel, and of it alone.
Let us thrice spew forth the nations to destruction! Threefold curses light upon them!
Knocking is heard at the door.
THE BAPTIZED. Take up your work, brethren! And thou, Holy Book, away from sight--no unclean look shall soil thy spotless leaves! Who is there?
Hides the Talmud.
VOICE . A friend. Open in the name of freedom.
THE BAPTIZED. Quick to your hammers and looms, my brethren!
He opens the door.
Enter Leonard.
LEONARD. Well done, citizens. You watch, I see, and whet your swords for to-morrow.-- What are you making here in this corner?
ONE OF THE BAPTIZED. Ropes.
LEONARD. You are right, citizen, for he who falls not by iron must hang!
THE BAPTIZED. Citizen Leonard, is the thing really to come off to-morrow?
LEONARD. He who thinks, feels, and acts with the most force among us, has sent me to you to appoint an interview. He will himself answer your question.
THE BAPTIZED. I go to meet him. Brethren, remain at work. Look well to them, citizen Yankel.
Exit with Leonard.
CHORUS OF BAPTIZED JEWS. Ye ropes and daggers, ye clubs and bills, the works of our hands, ye wilt go forth to destroy them!
The people will kill the nobles upon the plains, will hang them in the forests, and then, having none to defend them, we will kill and hang the people! The Despised will arise in their anger, will array themselves in the might of Jehovah: His Word is Redemption and Love for His people Israel, but scorn and fury for their enemies!
Let us thrice spew them forth to destruction: threefold curses fall upon them!
A tent. A profusion of flasks, cups, and flagons. Pancratius alone.
PANCRATIUS. The mob howled in applause but a moment ago, shouted in loud hurrahs at every word I uttered. But is there a single man among them all who really understands my ideas, or who comprehends the end and aim of that path upon which we have entered, or where the reforms will terminate which have been so loudly inaugurated within the last hour? 'Ah! fervidum imitatorum pecus!'
Women have a great deal to bear in this world. Their lot is in many respects harder than that of men, and neither higher education, nor the suffrage, nor anything else can mend it. But there is one moment at least in which a girl has always the best of it, and that is when she has just accepted her lover. At that blissful epoch she has all the pleasure, with little or nothing of the care. It is he who has to encounter the anxious father or careful trustee. He has to meet the scoff with which those personages receive the trembling announcement of a small, a very small income. He has to think where the money is to come from to set up the new household. She has the best of it for once in her life. Afterwards the tables are turned. Not always, perhaps, but very often; and always, I am inclined to think, when poverty is the lot.
But Mary thought of none of all these things; with her it was all sunshine. She could scarcely keep from bursting out with her great news to everyone she met. To sit down at lunch and eat as if nothing had happened was almost an impossibility. If they only knew! They might have known, indeed, had they looked at her, that something had happened. But nobody took any notice. A slight accident had happened to John, of which he was discoursing at great length. "I thlipped," he said, "on the grass; there was nothing to make me thlip that I could see. It was thlippery with the rain, or because Morton had mowed it this morning. It was the strangest thing I ever thaw. On the grass--the thimplest thing! But I might have thprained my ankle. Yes, I might. I can't think how I didn't thprain my ankle," said John.
"But you didn't, you see, so it doesn't matter," said his father.
"He might have, though; and what a thing that would have been!" Mrs. Prescott remarked, who was more sympathetic, and had a great leaning to her eldest son.
"Yes, it would have been a very bad busineth," said John.
And that was the sort of talk that was going on while Mary sat beaming, and nobody found her little secret out.
THE DISCLOSURE.
Mr. Prescott spread himself out before the fireplace, standing with his legs apart, and his coat tails extended. There was, of course, no fire in the month of June, but an Englishman spreading himself out upon his own hearthrug, like a cock on his appropriate elevation, is more an Englishman than at any other moment. The Squire looked benevolently, yet severely upon the curate, who sat before him, twisting his soft hat in his hands. This was the only sign of embarrassment Mr. Asquith showed, but it was very discernible. He sat with his face turned towards his judge, without any shrinking or quailing, a little pale, very self-possessed and quiet. It was a very serious moment, and that the curate well knew.
"My niece!" Mr. Prescott said, and his countenance cleared a little, for he had thought at first that it must be one of the princesses of his house that this man was wooing. "Mary! why, Mary is not old enough for this sort of thing. How old is she? Why, she is only a child!"
"You have got used to considering her a child, Mr. Prescott; but I believe she is one-and-twenty, if you will inquire."
Mr. Prescott made a calculation within himself, and after a moment said, "So she is: I believe she is in her two-and-twentieth year. Who would have thought it! You must know," he added, "Mr. Asquith--though I don't know what your ideas may be on that subject--that though Mary is my niece, she has no money, not a penny. My sister was sadly imprudent in her marriage. Her orphan child, of course, had a home with me, but there is nothing in the way of fortune, not a sou."
"So I understood," said the curate, "otherwise I should never have ventured to approach her, being myself so poor a man."
"Ah!" said the Squire, looking at him doubtfully; then he added with cheerfulness, "You are still on the first step, Mr. Asquith, there is no telling how far you may go."
"I am not the stuff of which bishops are made," said the curate, with a short laugh.
"What is that?" asked the Squire hastily.
"It is, I suppose, what you call yeomen in the South."
"Oh!" said Mr. Prescott. He recovered from this shock, however, in shorter time than might have been expected; for a substantial yeoman is a very respectable personage, and there are often nice little hoards of money behind them; and then it was only Mary, after all.
"This is a very strange statement, Mr. Asquith," the Squire said.
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