Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Augusta Seminary Annual. Pictures in the Life of Lady Macbeth. I. THE shep])erd has ceased shouting on the mountain tops ; the fisherman witli wet nets is plodding homeward ; the moor is desolate and lifeless save for a strange-looking pair, walking silently hut hastily over the rougli ground. The peasant woman, from her cottage, must have noted the incongruity of the two, for, shading her eyes from the setting sun, she watched them out of sight and called to her husband, smoking within the door, The Thane ' s little lady and her faithful Kenneth ; where are they going ' ' . The two upon tiie moor are as silent as Nature around them until the man, a big fellow with a broad, good-natured face, says in an awed voice : Are you not afraid, my lady? No; why? Tlie child lifts her face so that the light sliines clearly on her steady blue eyes, and lips strangely firm in a childish face. Are you sure she is there? he asks again. Old Roderick saw her as he came past the big cliffs. He ran home, trembling and white. They come upon the crags and high, ragged cliffs, skirting the edges of one of Scotland ' s lochs, whose waters gleam through the crevices in the piles of rock roughened with moss and lichens. Before advancing towards the shore of the bay the man stops beneath the shadow of a hitrh rock and draws a long; breath. The child takes his hand, and something in the touch of her cool, stead} ' fingers seems to reassure him, for he steps quickly out with her to the edge of the bay. There she is, on yonder rock, says the child in a low, quiet voice. She does not notice the weirdness of the scene, or if she does, it fails to impress her. She stands hand in hand with the broad-shouldered Scotchman as quietly as if she were in her own little room at the big castle.

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The Augusta Seminary A inval. 5 until ;it last slic can stand im more, and tinds rest f(ir a while in nnconseionsiiest;. It is lucbeth now who takes the lead. He ueedH no 5uiding hand upon the downward road. Conseienee no lontrer sheds lior dim lii ht in the twili«;]it of his soul. Henceforth He sliall spurn f ' ati , scorn ileatli, And bear his liopes ' bove wisdom, love and fear. Slie can go no further. Her marvelous self-possession never fails her before her husband, but when alone tliiek-ooming fancies throw tlieir shadows over her, and she realizes that he has reached a point in his career when her sympatliy and sustaining hand can do no more for him. From tliis time he must work out liis fate, even to tlie crack of doom, ' alone ; and it is with a fearful sick- ening at lieart and hopeless despair, after the baiKpiet scene, that she answers his questions, How goes the night V with the words, Almost at odds with morning, which is which. Her whole after life is one long ex])iation for her crime. Amid the sleep of nature her conscience cannot sleep, and the will, wdiicli, when waking, no human power could bend, asleep, refuses to obey her. In the dim moonlight of memory she reviews each moment of that awful night and tries in vain to wash the blood off her little hand. Duncan is in his grave : After life ' s fitful fever, he sleeps well ; but she, who to gain her peace, sent Duncan to peace, can find no peace. Hers is a mind diseased, The memory of a rooted sorrow, and she dies ; all the sunny dreams of her youth buried forever in the darkness and horror of her death. Margaret Laxe.

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The Au(pif f i Serni7iary Ainnml. 7 The (MH ' iiiiii; Id-cvzc lil() her li»iiu , tjiji- Imii- acros.- licr dolipatc fcatiiro, and except I ' m the lixed iiiteiitiie s it ' lier aze, wliicl) sets eiirioiisly on so yonn ;; !i I ' aee, one could mark no mental ex- citt ' nient. The seene, tlie time and tlie secluded nature of the place Would tend to ci-cate feelings of terror e cn in a hri ' ast not naturally timid. On the edii ' e of a clilT, in the lull and Kriiliant liijht of the set- tiiii!; sun, its a curious, da . .liui;- ci ' eatui-e -the meniiaid— famous in the old Scotch le :;ends. Comhin - out her lon , fair liair she sings a song, the weird tones of which reach the cars of the pair across the bay. The little Lady Gruoch, after the first intent gaze, turns to her coinpaiiiou, IS ' ow, Kenneth, (juick before she sees us — I will come with you. AVhat, man, you are not afraid ! She looks at him with that steady light in her blue eyes, and, inspired by her look, he advances quickly towards the mermaid, wdiose white shoulders gleam in the fading light. The Lady Gruoch follows. Kenneth reaches the mysterious creature unob- served, and ] auses irresolute. The child whispers — Coward. The mermaid has time only to scream before two brawny arms are around her, and she lies passive against the cliff. What want you, man ? says she, in an unnatural but sweet voice. Wishes two for the lady yonder. The prophesy runs that she shall have a rival in love. The Thane ' s daughter must come out the victor. The Scottish throne is near to my lady. A queen she must be. Quit and have, replies the mysterious being, and pressing her fish-like body against the cliff, she springs into the sea. Her white shoulders gleam for an instant, and then vanish beneath the green depths of the water. 11. Within the castle all is youth and happiness. From the win- dows brilliant lights are streaming — gay voices and merry jests ring happily out upon the sweet quiet. The laughter ceases and all becomes still. The strains of the harp, accompanying a wild Gaelic air reach the ears of a man and woman standing in a se- cluded and shadowed part of tlie grounds surrounding the castle.