THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING.

Manawatu Herald, Volume III, Issue III, 22 September 1891, Page 4

THE MYSTERIOUS WEDDING.

A DANISH STORY. | On the north-west of the Isle of Zealand stretches a small peninsular district, fertile und studded with hamlets, and connected with the mainland by a narrow strip ol sandy waste. Beyond the only town which this little peninsular possesses the land runs Into the restless waves of the Cattegat, and ! presents an awfully wild and sterile appearI Mice. The living sands have here obliterated , <:very trace of vegetation; and the storms I vhich blo-.v from all points of the wild ocean i »>re constantly operating a change on the fluctuating surface of the desert, whose hills of sand rise and disappear with constant . alternation, restless as the waves which roar j *round them. In travelling through the I country I spent upwards of an hour in this I district, and never shall I forget the impression which the scene made upon my mind. While riding alone through the desolate region, a thunder-storm rose over the ocean towards the north—the waves roared—the clouds were driven along before the wind — the sky grew every instant more gloomy, 1 menacing earth and sea" —the sand began o move in increasing masses under my .lorse's feet —a whirlwind arose and filled '•he atmosphere with dust —the traces of the path became invisible —my horse floundered deeper and deeper in the sand —while sky, earth, and ocean seemed mingled and blended :ogether, every object being involved in a doud of dust and vapour. I could not dis>em the slightest trace of life or vegetation '-the storm howled above me —the waves of ihe sea lashed mournfully against the shore • -the thunder rolled in the distance—and scarcely could the lurid lightning-flash pierce the heavy cloud of sand which whirled i round me; my danger was evident and extreme, when a sudden shower of rain laid the sand, and enabled me to push my way to the little town. The storm I had just encountered was a horrid mingling of all elements. An earthquake has been described as the sigh which troubled Nature heaves from the depth of her bosom : perhaps not more fancifully this chaotic tempest might bave typified the confusion of a wildly distracted mind, to which pleasure and even hope itself have been long strangers —the cheerless desert of the past revealing only remorse and grief-—the voice of conscience threatening like the thunder, while awful anticipations shed their lurid light over the dark spirit —till at la«t the long dried-up sources of tears open a way to their powerful floods, and bury the anguish of the distracted soul beneath their waves. I In this desolate country lay, in former i times, a village called Roerwig, about a mile 1 distant from the shore. The moving sands have buried the village, and the inhabitants j —mostly shepherds and fishermen —have ■ removed their cottages close to the shore. A single solitary building, the village church, which is situated upon a hill, yet rears its head above the cheerless shifting desert. This church was the scene of the following mysterious transaction. In an early part of the last century the ; Venerable cure of Roerwig was one night seated in his study, absorbed in pious meditations. It was near midnight. The house lay at the extremity of the village, and the simple manners of the inhabitants were so little tinged with distrust that bolts and locks were unknown amongst them, and every door remained open and unguarded. The night-lamp burned gloomily —the sullen silence of that dark hour was only interrupted by the rushing noise of the sea, on whose waves the pale moon was reflected, when the cure heard the door below open, and, presently after, the sound of men's steps upon the stair. He was just anticipating a call to administer the last holy offices of religion to some of his parishioners on the point of death, when two foreigners, wrapped up in white cloaks, stepped hastily into the room. One of them approached him with politeness: "Sir," said he, " you will have the goodness to follow us instantly. You S must perform a marriage ceremony; the bride and bridegroom are already waiting your arrival at the church. This sum," continued the stranger—exhibiting to the i old man a purse full of gold —" will suffij ciently recompense you for the trouble and • alarm our sudden demand has given you." | The cure stared in mute terror upon the strangers, who seemed to have something ! fearful —almost ghastly in their looks; the I demand was repeated in an earnest and j authoritative tone. When the old man had I recovered from his first surprise, he began I mildly to represent that his duty did not | allow him to perform so solemn an action i without some knowledge of the parties, and the intervention of those formalities required by law. The other strangerhereupon stepped forward in a menacing attitude: " Sir," said he, " you have your choice; follow us, and take the sum we now offer you —or remain, and this bullet goes through your head." He levelled his pistol at the forehead of the venerable man, and waited his answer; whereupon the latter rose, dressed himself, and informed his visitants —who had hitherto spoken Danish, but with a foreign accent — that he was ready to accompany them. The mysterious strangers now proceeded silently through the village followed by the clergyman. It was a dark autumn night, the moon having already set; but when they emerged from the village, the old man perceived with terror and astonishment that the distant church was all illuminated. Meanwhile his companions, wrapped up in their white cloaks, stepped hastily on before him through the barren sandy plain. On reaching the church they bound up his eyes ; j a side-door opened with a creaking noise, I and he felt himself violently pushed into a crowd of people; all around him he heard a murmuring of voices, and near to him a conversation carried on in a language quite unknown to him, but which he thought wa* Russian. As he stood helpless, blindfolded, pressed upon from every side, and in the utmost confusion, he felt himself seized upon by a man's hand and violently drawn through the crowd. At last it seemed to him as if the people fell back, the bandage was loosed, and he found himself standing with one of the strangers before the altar. A row of large lighted tapers, in magnificent silver candlesticks, adorned the altar, and the church itself was splendidly illuminated by a profusion of candles If before, while standing blindfolded, the murmur of the surrounding crowd had filled his soul with consternation, not less amazed was he now at the unbroken silence which reigned throughout the church; the side passages and all the seats were crowded to excess, but the middle passage was quite clear, and he perceived in it a newly opened grave, and the stone which had covered it leaning against a bench; around him he only saw male figures, but on one of the distant benches he thought he indistinctively perceived a female form The silence lasted for some minutes, during which not a motion could be detected in that vast multitude. 1 hiis, when a spirit is bent on deeds of d.iikness, a silent ploomy brooding of soui o'teu precedes the horrid action. At las.t a man, whose magnificent dress distinguished htm from all the rest and Lc-Lpokf his elevated rank, rose and walked lmstily up tlm c:npl\ passage As lie r-asbtd aloiu, bis f.lep- resounded tli;o\i;;h the building, nnd every eye was mined upon him : he at ; rare.l to be ol nuekilo. t'.ature will) br'-i-.d'v.!ioukl'.;rs ftiul slior:;; ILubs. hi'% pnit v.-p..-. t:':ir,,ncindir.^, his coirr-lcxi^r. ol a, yiiKv!*!! i>i";w», »"J M* hai* i'Hvei bin** j (To w gpnttytipd,)