The Day of Judgment.

by Joseph Hocking.

PROLOGUE

Three young men sat in an old inn not far from the borderline which divides England from Scotland. They were out on a holiday, and for more than two weeks had been tramping northward. Beginning at the Windermere Lakes, they had been roaming amidst the wild mountainous scenery which is the pride and joy of all lovers of beauty who dwell in that district. For two of them the holiday had practically come to an end, and now, smoking their pipes after dinner in the old inn, they were reviewing their experiences.

"I envy you, Douglas," said one whose holiday was practically finished.

"We have to get back to work but you have yet nearly three weeks before getting into harness again. It must be glorious, too, this going into Scotland."

"Yes," said the other, "and somehow Scotland is different from England.

I believe, if I knew nothing about the geography of the district, that directly I put my foot on Scottish soil I should know it. Everything is different there: the outlook on life, the customs, the laws and the prevailing sentiments of the people. Why, we cannot be far from Gretna Green now--think of the scenes which took place around here a few years ago!"

"Have the laws changed much in relation to marriage?" asked the first speaker. "You are studying for the Bar, Douglas, you ought to know."

The young man who had not yet spoken was different from the others. He was cast in a more intellectual mould, and, although bronzed by the sun and wind of the c.u.mberland Hills, his demeanour suggested the student.

"I really don't know much about Scottish laws," he replied, "they are so different from those of England. It is wonderful how people living so close together could have framed laws so entirely dissimilar. Of course, marriage laws have been a curious business both in England and Scotland. Before Lord Hardwicke's Act the marriage arrangements in England were very peculiar, but with that Act things took a different course. In Scotland, however, I believe they remained pretty nearly the same as before. As a matter of fact, marriage in Scotland is very difficult to define."

"In what way?"

"Well, I believe, even now, a marriage is valid even although there are no witnesses, no minister, no religious ceremony, and no formula whatever."

"But, my dear fellow," said one of the others, "that is surely impossible."

"I think not," replied the young man called Douglas. "I was talking with an old Scotch lawyer only a few months ago, and he was telling me that even yet Scotch marriages are about as loose as they can possibly be. He explained to me that Scotch marriage is a contract const.i.tuted by custom alone, and although generally of a well-attested nature, a marriage may be completed by a solemn and deliberate consent of the parties to take each other for husband and wife, and that such a marriage is absolutely binding. No writing or witnesses are necessary.

He also explained to me that a marriage could be legally const.i.tuted in Scotland by a _promise_ to marry followed by the parties living together for a few hours. By the way, I wonder whether in this old inn there is an encyclopaedia of some sort. Yes, here is one; evidently it has not been opened for years. Here we are, 'Marriage,' yes, 'Scotch Marriage':

"A marriage will also be const.i.tuted by declarations made by the man and the woman that they presently do take each other for husband and wife. These declarations may be emitted on any day, at any time, and without the presence of witnesses, and either by writing or orally, or by signs of any nature which is clearly an expression of intention. Such a marriage is as effective to all intents and purposes as a public marriage. The children of it would be legitimate, and the parties to it would have all the rights in the property of each other given by the law of Scotland to husband and wife."

"But if there are no doc.u.ments, how can anything be proved?"

"I cannot say," replied Douglas, "but there it is. Of course, at Gretna Green, which, as you say, is not far away, the blacksmith used to witness marriages, although his presence was unnecessary. Old stories have it that the contracting parties jumped a broomstick or a pair of tongs, or something of that sort, but whether there were any signatures I really do not know. Anyhow, the law in Scotland, as I have been informed, is that if a man and a girl agree to take each other as husband and wife, a marriage is legally performed, and is as binding as if it took place in Westminster Abbey and was performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury."

There was silence for a few minutes, then one exclaimed, "I wonder we do not hear more of divorces and marriage difficulties in Scottish law courts."

"Oh, these Scotch are canny people and wonderfully logical. They seem to regard present arrangements as inevitable, and act upon them. After all, what is marriage when one comes to think about it? It is really the promise of the man and the woman to take each other as husband and wife. All the rest, Church services and legal doc.u.ments, are mere attestations to the fact. Marriage, true marriage, is simply a matter for the parties in question who have determined upon union."

"Evidently you are not a High Churchman," remarked one of the others.

From this the conversation drifted on to other matters, and presently dwindled down to mere s.n.a.t.c.hes, freely punctuated by yawns. Then the young men, having finished their pipes, retired to rest.

Two days later, Douglas Graham found himself alone. He had made arrangements to pay a visit to a house near the borders of Scotland.

He was of Scotch descent on his father's side, while his mother's family had always lived in the South of England. For that matter the Grahams had lived in the South for three generations, so that, while he was greatly interested in Scotland, he always called himself an Englishman. The characteristics of both countries were clearly expressed in both his mind and character. The Scotch side of him was intellectual, practical, with, perhaps, a suggestion of hardness; but to counteract this, he had inherited the gentleness and the softer elements which appertain to the Southern peoples. He was only just three and twenty; he had taken a good degree at Oxford, and then set himself to qualify for the Bar. His personal appearance likewise indicated a mixture of races--tall and well-knit, he suggested a strong and determined nature; on the other hand, there was something almost effeminate in the regularity of his features, and his lips were somewhat sensuous. A pa.s.sing stranger would be immediately attracted by him. Blue eyes, brown hair, and well-formed features, together with a sunny and kind-hearted disposition, had made him a popular man.

While very ambitious, he also possessed a happy disposition which made him the best of companions. He was now on his way to visit a distant relative on his father's side, and looked forward with exceeding interest to spending the last weeks of his holiday in an old Scottish stone mansion, situated among the wild hills.

As a lover of beauty, he could not help being charmed by the scenery through which he pa.s.sed: the purple heather, which was now in its glory, made the wild moorlands wondrous for their beauty, while the valleys through which the rushing streams pa.s.sed simply enchanted him.

Presently he came to a lonely valley in a district which seemed almost entirely uninhabited. Not a soul was in sight, and scarcely a sound disturbed the silence. On each side of him, great heather-covered hills sloped up to the sky, while at his feet a stream coiled its way down the valley. Tramping along the narrow road which skirted the stream, he presently saw some cattle rushing wildly around, and he judged by the cries he heard that someone was greatly distressed. It was not long before he saw what this meant. A young girl was trying to keep some cattle together, but they, being in a turbulent mood, refused to go the way she wished. Vainly she went hither and thither, seeking to guide them into a path which led over the hills. For two or three minutes Douglas Graham watched her, and then, seeing her dilemma, went up to her.

She was evidently a Scotch peasant girl, as indicated by the clothes she wore and by her hard, toilworn hands. Nevertheless, at first sight of her Douglas was attracted, and for good reason--the face of the girl, once seen, was not soon forgotten. During the time he had been in Scotland it had seemed to him that the Scotch women were hard-featured, uninteresting, and altogether unlovely; but this girl was different. There was something of the savage in her, and yet she possessed a charm which fascinated the young man. Her black hair hung in curling and tangled tresses over her shoulders; her eyes were almost as black as her hair and shone brightly. A kind of gipsy beauty she possessed, and her eyes, her sensitive mouth, her square chin spoke of a nature out of the ordinary.

"If you will tell me what you wish," he said, "I will help you."

She looked at him with a start of surprise, and for a moment he thought she shrank from him. She seemed as shy as a young colt, and was apparently frightened at his sudden appearance. As she looked at him, however, her confidence came back. He was different from the raw Scottish youths to whom she was accustomed. His pleasant smile and laughing eyes rea.s.sured her. "I am trying to take the kine home," she said, "but I think the witches have got hold of them. I never saw them like this before." She spoke with a strong Scotch accent, and was evidently what she seemed, either a servant at a farmhouse or, perhaps, the daughter of some small tenant farmer who lived in the district.

"We'll see if we can't destroy the witches' power," laughed Douglas, and set to work to gather the cattle. It took some little time, but the feat was accomplished at last. Then the two walked side by side, driving the beasts before them.

The romance in the young man's nature was aroused. There, amidst the wild moorland scenery and in the light of the setting sun, it was vastly pleasant to be walking beside this young creature, so instinct with life.

"Is your home far away?" he asked.

"It must be more than two miles," she replied.

"And do you know the house called 'Highlands'?"

"It will be where Mr. Graham lives, I expect."

"Yes," he said.

"Then it will be only a mile beyond my father's farm," was her reply.

"Oh, that is capital!" laughed Graham. "I shall get there before dark, and be able to help you with the cattle at the same time."

"But you are not the son at 'Highlands,'" she said, looking at him curiously.

"Oh, no," he replied. "The Grahams are distant relatives of mine, that is all. There is just a little Scotch in me, that is why I love Scotland so. Of course, you love Scotland too?"

A far-away look came into her eyes. "I don't know," she said.

"Not know if you love your own country?" And he laughed as he spoke.

"I am not sure that it is my own country," was her reply. "You see----" And then she stopped. "It will be nothing to you," she added after a minute, and for some time they walked along together in silence.

"It must be just lovely to live amid such surroundings as these; still, I should find it lonely sometimes," he ventured at length.

"You would, if--if--" And then the girl looked at him curiously. "But I expect you'll not be understanding what I mean," she added.

Again they walked on in silence, Douglas longing to ask her what she meant, and yet shrinking from taking what he felt might be a liberty, for there was something about the girl that kept him from speaking freely. Dressed like a peasant as she was, he instinctively felt that here was no ordinary farmer's drudge. She had uttered nothing beyond commonplaces, but the look in her eyes, the tremor of her lips suggested romance and mystery and poetry.

"You see," she said a minute later, as if talking to herself, "I have no mother. I never saw her; at least, I cannot remember ever seeing her, and she was not Scotch."

"No?" said Douglas. "Then we have something in common: my people on my father's side were Scotch, but all my mother's people belong to the South."

"And mine, too," said the girl. "But what can it be to you?" And again she seemed to be thinking of something far away.

"Do you know," said the young man, "you are the first person I have spoken to since morning? I have been on the tramp all the day. I had my lunch by the side of a stream, and I have kept away from every house. I wanted to be alone. I expect that is why I want you to tell me why you don't seem happy."