“‘Tis a fatal boon, that twice-used ring,” cried Sybil; “such a ring my mother, on her deathbed, said should be mine. Such a ring she said should wed me—”
“Unto whom?” fiercely demanded Luke.
“UNTO DEATH!” she solemnly rejoined.
Luke’s countenance fell. He turned aside, deeply abashed, unable further to brook her gaze; while, in accents of such wildly-touching pathos as sank into the hearts of each who heard her—hearts, few of them framed of penetrable stuff—the despairing maiden burst into the following strain:
THE TWICE USED RING1
“Beware thy bridal day!”
On her deathbed sighed my mother;
“Beware, beware, I say,
Death shall wed thee, and no other.
Cold the hand shall grasp thee,
Cold the arms shall clasp thee,
Colder lips thy kiss shall smother!
Beware thy bridal kiss!
“Thy wedding-ring shall be
From a clay-cold finger taken;
From one that, like to thee,
Was by her love forsaken.
For a twice-used ring
Is a fatal thing;
Her griefs who wore it are partaken—
Beware that fatal ring!
Set to music by Mr. F. Romer.
“The altar and the grave
Many steps are not asunder;
Bright banners o’er thee wave,
Shrouded horror lieth under.
Blithe may sound the bell,
Yet ’twill toll thy knell;
Scathed thy chaplet by the thunder—
Beware that blighted wreath!”
Beware my bridal day!
Dying lips my doom have spoken;
Deep tones call me away;
From the grave is sent a token.
Cold, cold fingers bring
That ill-omen’d ring;
Soon will a second heart be broken!
This is my bridal day!
There was a deep, profound silence as the last melancholy cadence died away, and many a rugged heart was melted, even to tears. Eleanor, meanwhile, remained in a state of passive stupefaction, vacantly gazing at Sybil, upon whom alone her eyes were fixed, and appearing indistinctly to apprehend the meaning of her song.
“This is my bridal day,” murmured she, in a low tone, when Sybil had finished. “Said not that sweet voice so? I know ’tis my bridal day. What a church you have chosen, mother! A tomb—a sepulchre—but ’tis meet for such nuptials as mine—and what wedding guests! Was that pale woman in her shroud-like dress invited here by you? Tell me that, mother.”
“My God, her senses are gone!” cried Mrs. Mowbray. “Why did I venture into this horrible place!”
“Ask not why now, madam,” rejoined the priest. “The hour for consideration is past. We must act. Let the marriage proceed, at all hazards; we will then take means to extricate ourselves from this accursed place.”
“Remove that horrible object,” said Mrs. Mowbray; “it fascinates the vision of my child.”
“Lend me your hand, Richard Checkley,” said Peter, sternly regarding the priest.
“No, no,” replied the priest, shuddering; “I will not—cannot touch it. Do you alone remove it.”
Peter approached Luke. The latter now offered no further opposition, and the body was taken away. The eyes of Eleanor followed it into the dark recesses of the vault; and when she could no longer distinguish the white flutter of the cereclothes, her labouring bosom seemed torn asunder with the profound sigh that burst from it, and her head declined upon her shoulder.
“Let me see that ring,” said the priest, addressing Luke, who still held the wedding-ring between his fingers.
“I am not naturally superstitious,” said Mrs. Mowbray; “whether my mind be affected with the horrors of this place, I know not; but I have a dread of that ring. She shall not use it.”
“Where no other can be found,” said the priest, with a significant and peculiar look at Mrs. Mowbray, “I see no reason why this should be rejected. I should not have suspected you, madam, of such weakness. Grant there were evil spell, or charm, attached to it, which, trust me, there is not—as how should there be, to a harmless piece of gold?—my benediction, and aspersion with holy lymph, will have sufficient power to exorcise and expel it. To remove your fears, it shall be done at once.”
A cup containing water was brought, together with a plate of salt (which condiment the devil is said to abhor, and which is held to be a symbol of immortality and of eternity; in that, being itself incorruptible, it preserves all else from corruption), and, with the customary Romish formula of prayer and exorcism, the priest thrice mingled the crystal particles with the pure fluid; after which, taking the ring in his hand with much solemnity, he sprinkled it with a few drops of the water which he had blessed; made the sign of the cross upon the golden circlet; uttered another and more potent exorcism to eradicate and expel every device of Satan, and delivered it back to Luke.