“Hold,” cried Rob as Joseph turned away, “you will come to the church to-morrow, will you not. You will wish to see Rose married?”
“Rob!” exclaimed Joseph, in a tone of deep reproach, “no—I can bear to know you are going to marry her—I can hope for you, and pray for you both—but to see her married to another! You will not need me there.”
When he finished speaking Joseph went off quickly on his way, and Rob Horn pursued his path home; the only answer he returned to Joseph’s grief was a smothered laugh, which stifled as it was in the stillness of the night, the disappointed seeker of peace heard distinctly.
All that night Joseph Rancy sat on the opposite bank of the ravine where he might look on the dwelling-place of Rose May, and all that night he prayed for her happiness, and strove hard to banish all unfriendly thoughts toward Rob Horn from his mind. But when the morning came, long before the sun rose he wandered away among the mountains, that he might be far off from the place where she would be given to another.
Rob went on to his home—the cot was still as sleep, for his father and mother had hours before retired to their rest. He went to his chamber, and soon upon the easy couch he slept. And then Rob dreamed; of course there was but one he could dream of all that night, his young and beautiful bride, the girl he would be so proud to hear the old priest pronounce his wife. But though he could only dream of her, it does not follow that his night visions were pleasant—far enough from pleasant was the truth in this case.
He fancied that the spirit of the mountain, (the same in whose existence he had doubted for so long,) came to him with an angry frown on her spirit countenance. He trembled, yes he, the strong iron-willed youth trembled when he looked on her; he had never feared or quailed before. When she had come quite close to his bedside, and rested her hand upon his shoulder, where it lay like lead, and gazed so sternly upon him, Rob said to her:
“Why dost thou come here to disturb me, and trouble my dreams, thou terrible shape?”
And the spirit answered:
“Tell me instead, what is it thou art about to do?”
“That is quickly told,” said Horn, “to-morrow I shall marry Rose May, the loveliest maid the sun ever shone upon.”