Cleveland was conscience-struck, and remained silent for an instant, ere he replied, “There, indeed, I was wrong; but he is, I thank Heaven, recovered, and welcome to an honourable satisfaction.”
“Cleveland,” said the Pythoness, “No! The fiend who employs you as his implement is powerful; but with me he shall not strive. You are of that temperament which the dark Influences desire as the tools of their agency; bold, haughty, and undaunted, unrestrained by principle, and having only in its room a wild sense of indomitable pride, which such men call honour. Such you are, and as such your course through life has been—onward and unrestrained, bloody and tempestuous. By me, however, it shall be controlled,” she concluded, stretching out her staff, as if in the attitude of determined authority—“ay, even although the demon who presides over it should now arise in his terrors.”
Cleveland laughed scornfully. “Good mother,” he said, “reserve such language for the rude sailor that implores you to bestow him fair wind, or the poor fisherman that asks success to his nets and lines. I have been long inaccessible both to fear and to superstition. Call forth your demon, if you command one, and place him before me. The man that has spent years in company with incarnate devils, can scarce dread the presence of a disembodied fiend.”
This was said with a careless and desperate bitterness of spirit, which proved too powerfully energetic even for the delusions of Norna’s insanity; and it was with a hollow and tremulous voice that she asked Cleveland—“For what, then, do you hold me, if you deny the power I have bought so dearly?”
“You have wisdom, mother,” said Cleveland; “at least you have art, and art is power. I hold you for one who knows how to steer upon the current of events, but I deny your power to change its course. Do not, therefore, waste words in quoting terrors for which I have no feeling, but tell me at once, wherefore you would have me depart?”
“Because I will have you see Minna no more,” answered Norna—“Because Minna is the destined bride of him whom men call Mordaunt Mertoun—Because if you depart not within twenty-four hours, utter destruction awaits you. In these plain words there is no metaphysical delusion—Answer me as plainly.”
“In as plain words, then,” answered Cleveland, “I will not leave these islands—not, at least, till I have seen Minna Troil; and never shall your Mordaunt possess her while I live.”
“Hear him!” said Norna—“hear a mortal man spurn at the means of prolonging his life!—hear a sinful—a most sinful being, refuse the time which fate yet affords for repentance, and for the salvation of an immortal soul!—Behold him how he stands erect, bold and confident in his youthful strength and courage! My eyes, unused to tears—even my eyes, which have so little cause to weep for him, are blinded with sorrow, to think what so fair a form will be ere the second sun set!”
“Mother,” said Cleveland, firmly, yet with some touch of sorrow in his voice, “I in part understand your threats. You know more than we do of the course of the Halcyon—perhaps have the means (for I acknowledge you have shown wonderful skill of combination in such affairs) of directing her cruise our way. Be it so,—I will not depart from my purpose for that risk. If the frigate comes hither, we have still our shoal water to trust to; and I think they will scarce cut us out with boats, as if we were a Spanish xebeck. I am therefore resolved I will hoist once more the flag under which I have cruised, avail ourselves of the thousand chances which have helped us in greater odds, and, at the worst, fight the vessel to the very last; and, when mortal man can do no more, it is but snapping a pistol in the powder-room, and, as we have lived, so will we die.”
There was a dead pause as Cleveland ended; and it was broken by his resuming, in a softer tone—“You have heard my answer, mother; let us debate it no further, but part in peace. I would willingly leave you a remembrance, that you may not forget a poor fellow to whom your services have been useful, and who parts with you in no unkindness, however unfriendly you are to his dearest interests.—Nay, do not shun to accept such a trifle,” he said, forcing upon Norna the little silver enchased box which had been once the subject of strife betwixt Mertoun and him; “it is not for the sake of the metal, which I know you value not, but simply as a memorial that you have met him of whom many a strange tale will hereafter be told in the seas which he has traversed.”