The Portland daily press., 1881-05-14
THE PRESS.
Macha.
A Sketch If Irish Character.


OtllCl slut VI inC hOilu.
And the girl sobbed wildly on her moth
er's shoulder.
''Send him off then, acushla machree.
Why need you break your heart about what
nobody Is going to bid you do? Your moth
er before you never wore fine gown; and
we will be hungry together as we always
were."
Macha's weeping subsidized little; but on
!y to break out again as fiercey as before.
81 cannot send him away, mother! love
him, as well as you. o, why did he ever
come over the mountain? Better it had been
him that lives down in the laker'
The mother stood aghast. '.Holy Virgin! |"
she cried; land tits only score of days
since we saw him first. Then if you love
him like that, my daughter, you are bound
10 be his wife. You must go-even to En-
gland over the sear'
you don't know what you arc saving,
mother. How could l live without seeing
your face?''
''As many have to live, my Macha. May
be he would bring you back to see us. And
you might be able 10 send us the potato
seed. or piece of good flannel to keep us
warm
Mscha looked piteously in her mothers
eyes, and then round the familiar cabin the
storm came down again upon her heart, and
she flung up her arms and fell into swoon,
Her lover, arriving up the mountain, fonnd
her lying white oil the heather outside the
door, with her head on her mothers knees,
a.d was thus led into uttering promises
which, else, he might never have made.
Its only the heart that is too strong in
her." said the poor mother sorrowfully. sit
is i'll to love stranger that must part you
from your own.'
II swear to bring her back" said the
man, eagerly. "She shall come whenever
she pleases and bring as many good things
as she likes. We might even build house
in the valley below"
At this the color began to return into Ma
cha's cheeks; and the comfortable promises
sank deep in her mind.
Little by little the struggle between the
new love and the old was softened away:
the will of the stranger prevailed, and the
marriage took place in little rude mount
ain chapel, where Macha had been baptized.
and where travelling though hail, rain and
storm, she had knelt every Sunday, since
she had been able to walk. At the church
doors the husband reiterated the promise
that be would bring her back; very soon she
should return to the mountain. He almost
tore his bride away, weeping and half faint
ing, from the embraces of her people, from
the cllnging of their thin brown hands, and
the kisses of their weather beaten faces.
And in spite of the promises he had Just re-
peated, he was glad to think that he had
probably seen the last of this wild mountain
tribe.
Sir Humphrey Gilbert dressed his wife in
lady's garb, and surrounded her with all
the appointments that were suited to her
new station. The first jar to his happiness
wss given by his perception that, beautiful
as was Macha in her silks and laces and
friDkets, musical as was her speech graceful
as were her m0vQmlnfc fbpro
thing wanting in her to maze her bride
that could be presented, without risk of crit
icism, to his friends The ENCHANTING
mountain gill, with her picturesque beauty
and wild, charming ways, was no more.
The lovely Lady Gilbert was a little too I'M
conventional, with her soft brogue, her Wv
i'd and fgurative language, her quick natur-
al gestures, her little slips in grammar and
artless' habitual utterance of the truth.
But Sir Humphrey was very patient with
her, and set to work to polish his precious
gem in the rough.
A long time passed over, and the husband
felt no desire to revisit the highlands of Con-
naught.
Dear" said his wife to him one dav.
when are we going back to see my mother?''
She was standing before him in flowing
robe of soft white stuff, with her honey-coi-
ored hair dressed by French maid, with
breast.
looking such picture of beauty and refine
ment that even the peculiar intonation that
sun chung to her speech could not declare
her other than lady. Macha possessed in
high degree the power of adapting herself
to the ways of those around her Her hus-
band recognized this power in her. and re-
lied upon it tocarry him through the conse-
quences of his own rash and extraordinary
conduct. He was grateful to his wife for
m nc l,n
knowing she was influenced solely by love
of him, for she took but little interest in the
pleasures that surrounded her. He did not
know how far she was influenced by anotb |
er motive also, the desire to earn a reward
in the fulfllment of his promise to bring
her back TO her native hills
so long ago did it seem, that folly that
had married him to peasant wife, that all
recollection of the details of the circumstan-
ces had almost passed away from his mind.
He was man of quick, overpoweriDg i'm
pulses, and memories that faded with ease.
Things that were full of pathetic interest to
him yesterday were very likely to be folies
to him to day. Yet he was faithful in his
affection for Macha; and the sight of her
struggling with her difficulties, laboring to
make herself all that he could wish. and
succeeding by the inspiration of something
like genius, touched and delighted the best
feelings OF his nature. He was The more
disposed TO be satisfied with the results of
his marriage because his wife's low extrac-
ton was secret from Lis associates 1t
was believed that she was the daughter of a
noble but impoverished Irish family: that
she had been neglected in her early wears.
and educated by her husband. A pretty ro- |
nance had been constructed, how or bv
whom Sir Humphrey did not know. His |
vines gentle grace was the real foundation
for it; and at all events he had not the cour- |
age to contradict the tale.
With all this good luck there was some |
thing wanting to their happiness. Macha |
did not fall into raptures at the splendor of |
her home, nor with the amusements of soci- |
ETY., nor with the batteries and triumphs
that fell to her share She only half lived |
IN luxury by her husbands side; the other |
half of her lived on the mountains among |
the privations to which she was born. I'm. |
der her rich sables she shuddered at the
cold ON her mother s limbs; and by her own |
glowing fireside she kept counting the sods |
OF turf that might have been saved from the |
rainy season to keep warmth in the aged |
withered frame. She heard
the little sisters saying, ''What is Macha do |
mgr Macha is so happy she has forgotten
us!' The heart within her was getting ev-
cry day more chill, because as vet her hus-
bands promise had not seemed likely to be
fIlhlled. AT last she had summoned cour-
age, and asked him the question.
when will you let me see my mother?o
Sir Humphrey was troubled. He was quite 4
resolved never to let Macha return to her
people, and he had hoped that the desire to
30 to them would have faded away from her
before now. There was something in her
face which he could not understand. but
which made him feel he must deal very gent
" with her.
1T is out of the question at present, love-"
he said; "but you shall send her any present
you please"
She shut her eager lips seeing that her
husband would not bear to be urged. he
went hurriedly out of the room, and Macha
stood silently by the fire, with strange
gray cloud overshadowing her face. The
bird Summer had gone by, and now again
he Winter was passing, and she seemed
,arther than ever from attaining the great
iesire of her heart A minute she stood
where he had left her, climbing in spirit the
'ough ascent to the mountain cabin. In i'm
igination she threw herself at her mothers
eet, begged her forgiveness, assured her of
Ter love, pleaded her inability 10 keep her
word. Then, with long sigh, she Enclosed
1er eyes, unbent her brows, and patiently
vent about her occupations. She took adj
vantage of her husbands permission to send
present. cloak for the grandmother and