Chapter VIII: Part 8

Several years had passed away before Mary Macleod thoroughly recovered from the effects of the shock produced by her bitter disappointment. She mourned long and sorrowfully for her absent lover, and feared she would never see him more. Her lamentations were so pitiful, she grew so terribly thin and wan, that her father was sorely grieved that he could not undo what he had done. ‘Woe to me,’ he often exclaimed, ‘for killing my daughter. She is rapidly sinking to an untimely grave.’ Although some of Mary’s former admirers returned with the full ardour of their love as soon as Campbell had left the island, and pressed their suits with renewed zeal, she politely but firmly rejected their proposals, with the saying, ‘I am not yet a widow.’

Five years had now almost passed away since Mary Macleod and Archie Campbell parted, and still no tidings reached her of his whereabouts. She knew not whether he was dead or alive. At that time some of the sailors belonging to a large ship which came into Loch-Seaforth for shelter called one evening for milk at Marrig House; and in conversation with them it transpired that their vessel, then in Loch-Seaforth, was the identical ship in which Campbell sailed from Stornoway five years before; that he never left her until he was accidentally drowned in the Bay of Biscay four years afterwards; that, by his kind and obliging manner, he became a general favourite with all his comrades, all of whom deeply lamented his loss. This unexpected intelligence acted upon the forlorn and broken-hearted maiden as if struck by lightning. She uttered a wild and piercing scream, and fell fainting on the floor. During the excitement that followed the sailors made their exit, and proceeded to their ship, which weighed anchor next morning and disappeared; so that the fair maiden had now lost further opportunity of obtaining any additional information she might desire about her lover. Sad and melancholy as she had been hitherto, she was now depressed and cheerless in the extreme. Refusing to be comforted, she moaned and sighed day and night for weeks and months together. Nothing apparently could rouse her spirits from the deep melancholy which had taken possession of her. She continued thus for nearly two years, during which time she was all but a hermit. She was often visited, it is true, during those solitary years by many admirers, who used all the fair words at their command to press their suit upon her, but she invariably answered that she ‘did not yet tire of her widow’s weeds.’ Eventually, however, she became gradually more cheerful, and took some pleasure in society; and ultimately went and sang and danced at local balls and other fashionable gatherings as in days long gone by.

Of all Mary Macleod’s admirers Macleod of Hushinish was her greatest favourite; and some three years after she obtained intelligence of Campbell’s death, she consented to become his wife, with the full consent of the father and other relations, and the day of their espousal was fixed. The preparations for the wedding, which was to be on a grand scale, were necessarily extensive. The liquors consisted of whisky, rum, gin, and brandy. The marriage ceremony was, according to the usual custom, to be performed in her father’s house, whither the officiating clergyman had been invited several days previously. For some days prior to the marriage a strong gale of wind blew from the south, and the barometer gave every indication of its continuance. This proved a fortunate circumstance for the bride’s father, whose stock of gin and brandy had become somewhat limited at the very time when it was most required; for, two days previous to that of the marriage, a foreign vessel had put into Loch-Seaforth to shelter from the storm, and from this ship he procured an addition to the necessary supply of spirits. On account of the liberal terms on which the captain supplied him, Fear Mharig invited him and the first mate to the wedding. The captain—a middle-aged burly man, with a well tanned face—was, as became his position, dressed in a suit corresponding to his rank; but the mate, who seemed about thirty years of age, with brown, but well-fared face, of ordinary height and handsome figure, was dressed in the garb of an ordinary seaman.

The number of people collected at Marrig House was so large that the marriage ceremony had to be performed in the large barn, where as many as it could contain were requested to go and witness the proceedings. In the general rush the captain and his mate were left outside. But being the greatest strangers, and anxious that they should see the ritual, some of the leading Harris men gave up their own seats in favour of the sailors, who thus received front positions. They had scarcely occupied them when the bride and her maids entered, followed almost immediately by the bridegroom and his party. The bride, attired in her magnificent marriage robes, looking beautiful, and spotless as an angel, was greeted with vociferous cheering. This enthusiastic welcome over, and just when the minister was about to commence the service, the mate, who chanced to be exactly opposite to the bride, interrupted the proceedings by saying in the blunt but pointed manner peculiar to sailors, ‘I presume that all the ladies and gentlemen present have already presented the bride with their presents. I haven’t yet had a proper opportunity of giving mine; and although it is but small, and apparently trifling, I trust the young lady will, nevertheless, accept and appreciate it as a token of my constant love and devoted affection.’ He then handed to the bride a neatly folded paper parcel, about the size of a small-sized envelope. She nervously tore it open, and on examining the contents, she, to the great astonishment of the assembly, exclaimed, ‘Archy, Archy, my dear! my long absent Archy,’ and springing forward she embraced him again and again. It is almost needless to say that the sailor’s gift was the identical knot of blue ribbon given by Mary Macleod to Archibald Campbell some eight years before. Mary and her betrothed, Archibald Campbell (for it was he), were for several minutes locked fast in each other’s embrace, and she, after the commotion produced by this unexpected meeting had somewhat subsided, said, in an audible tone, that she was now ready to fulfil her original engagement to her first love, and that her father, she was quite sure, would now offer no objections to their marriage. Fear Mharig at once replied that he had already suffered quite enough of harrowed remorse for the part he had previously taken in their separation to offer any further objection. He would therefore give his full consent, for the whole matter seemed to him to have been arranged by Providence. Young Macleod of Harris, Campbell’s University companion, now stepped forward, and shook the sailor warmly by the hand, giving him a thousand welcomes, and congratulating him on coming so opportunely to claim the hand of Mary Macleod; and Fear Mharig suggested that, as all the arrangements were ready, and the clergyman standing there, the marriage ceremony had better be proceeded with; which proposal was acted upon, and Archibald Campbell and Mary Macleod were there and then made man and wife. During the proceedings, young Hushinish, the disappointed bridegroom, stood a silent spectator and quite dumbfounded.

The marriage ceremony over, Campbell entertained the company, relating his travels and all the peculiar incidents which occurred during the eight years that elapsed since he left Harris, one of which was how his ship came to Loch-Seaforth three years before, as already noticed, how that he himself formed one of the party of sailors who then called at Marrig House for milk, and personally reported that he had been drowned in the Bay of Biscay. His object in making this untrue statement was to test his Mary’s affection; for finding that her father was still alive, he deemed it prudent not to make himself known. He then solemnly assured them, corroborated by his Captain, that his coming to Loch-Seaforth two days ago, driven by the storm, was by the merest accident.

It need hardly be said that the vessel left Loch-Seaforth minus the first mate, who was from his marriage-day henceforth called Fear Mharig. From Mary Macleod and Archibald Campbell, descended all the Campbells in Harris, Lews, Uist, and Skye many of whom became famous in their day and generation.

AN DEIREADH.