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1852.]
ed, as he tore himself away from the land
where remained all that he now coveted.
And Katerina, too, felt as if her existence
was a blank ; and, as the vessel sailed
from the port, she breathed short; and
when not even her white and lofty top
gallant sail could be discovered as a
speck upon the blue line of the horizon,
she threw herself on her couch and wept.
And McClise as he sailed away, remain
ed for hours leaning on the taffrail, call
ing to mind, over and over again, every
lineament and feature of the peerless
Katerina.
Two months passed away, during
which McClise was busied, every ebb of
the tide, in superintending the work on
the rock. At last all was ready, and
once more was to be beheld a gay pro
cession—but this time it was on the wa
ter. It was on a calm and lovely sum
mer morning, that the abbot and the
monks attended by the authorities, and
a large company of others, who were so
much intested in the work, started from
the shore of Aberbrothwick, in a long
line of boats, some decorated with holy
banners, and all with gay flags and de
vices. The music floated along the wide
waters, and the solemn chaunts of the
monks were heard, where never yet they
had been before, or ever will be again.
McClise was at the rock, in a small ves
sel, purposely constructed to carry the
bell, and with shears, to hang it on the
supporters imbedded in the solid rock.
In an hour the bell was fixed in its place,
and the abbot blessed it, and holy water
was sprinkled on the metal, which, for
the future, would be washed by the waves
of the salt sea. The music and the
chaunting were renewed : and, as it con
tinued, the wind gradually rose, and,
with the rising of the wind, the bell tolled
loud and deep. The tolling of the bell
was the signal for return ; it was a warn
ing that the weather was about to change;
and the procession pulled back to the
shore of Aberbrothwick, and landed in
good time; for one hour more, and the
rocky coast was again lashed by the
waves, and the bell tolled loud and quick,
although there were none there but the
sea-gull, who screamed with fright as he
wheeled in the air at this unusual noise
upon the rock, which, at the ebb, he had
so often made his resting-place.
McClise had done his work. The bell
was fixed, and once more he hastened
with his vessel to Amsterdam. Once
more was he an inmate of Vandermae
len’s house—once more in the presence
of the idol of his soul. This time they
spoke; this time their vows were exchang
ed for life and death, yet Vandermaelen
knew not the state of their hearts. He
looked upon the young seaman as too
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
low, too poor, to be a match for his daugh
ter; and, as such an idea never entered
his head, so did he never imagine that
he would have presumed to love. But
he was soon undeceived, for McClise
frankly stated his attachment, and de
manded the hand of Katerina; and, at
the demand, Yendermaelen’s lace was
flushed with anger.
“My nheer McClise,” said he, after a
pause, as if to control his feelings, “when
a man marries, he is bound to show that
he hath wherewithal to support his wife
—to support her in that condition, and
to afford her those luxuries, to which she
has been accustomed in her father’s house.
Show me that you can do so, and I will
not refuse you the hand of Katerina.”
“As yet I cannot,” replied McClise :
“but lam young, and can work. I have
money, and will gain more. Tell me
what sum do you think that 1 should pos
sess, to warrant my demanding the hand
of your daughter.”
“Produce twelve thousand guilders,
and she is yours,” replied the merchant.
“I have but three thousand.” replied
McClise, mournfully.
“Then think no more of Katerina. It
is a foolish passion, and you must forget
it ; and, Mynheer McClise, I must not
have my daughter’s feelings tampered
with. iShe must forget you, and that can
only be effected by your not meeting
again. I wish you well, Mynheer Mc-
Clise, but I must regret y<>ur absence.”
McClise departed from the presence of
the merchant, bowed down with grief
and disappointment. lie contrived that
a letter, containing the result of his ap
plication, should be put in the hands of
Katerina; but Vandermaelen was inform
ed of this breach of observance, and Ka
terina was sent to a convent, there to re
main until the departure of her lover;
and Vandermaelen wrote to his corres
pondents at Dundee, requesting that the
goods forwarded to him might not be
sent by the vessel commanded by the
young Scotchman. Os this McClise re
ceived information. All hope was nearly
gone —still he delayed his departure.—
lie was no longer the active, energetic
seaman —he neglected all, even his attire.
Me knew in which convent his fair Ka
terina had been immured, and often
would he walk round its precincts with
the hope of seeing her, if it were but for
a moment; but in vain. llis vessel was
now laden, and he could delay no longer.
He was to sail the next morning, and
once more did the unhappy young man
take his usual walk to look at those walls
which contained all that was dear to him
on earth. His reverie was broken by a
stone failing close to his teet. He took
it up —there was a small piece o. f paper
attached to it with a silken thread. He
opened it—it was the hand-writing of
Katerina, and contained but two words,
‘The Bell.’ ”
The Bell ! McClise started, for he im
mediately comprehended what was meant.
The whole plan ran like electricity through
his brain. The Bell was worth twelve
thousand guilders—that sum had been
offered, and would now be given by
Isaacs, the Israelite. He would be happy
with his Katerina, and he blessed her in
genuity for devising the means. For a
moment or two he was transported, but
the reaction took place. What was he
about to attempt? Sacrilege! cruelty!
The Bell had been blessed by the holy
church—it had been purchased by holy
and devout alms ; it had been placed on
the rock to save his brother seamen, and
were he to remove it, would he not be
responsible for all the lives lost? Would
not the wail of the widow, and the tears
es the orphan, be crying out to heaven
against him? No, no—never! The
crime was too horrible, and McClise
stamped upon the paper thinking he was
tempted by Satan in the shape of a wo
man. But when woman tempts, man is
lost. Hhe recalled the charms of Kate
rina—all his repugnance was overcome,
and he resolved that the deed should be
accomplished, and that Katerina should
be gained, even if he lost his soul.
Andrew McClise sailed away for Am
sterdam, and Katerina recovered her lib
erty. Vandermeelen was anxious that
she should marry, and many were the
suitors for her hand—but thev sued in
vain. She reminded her father that he
had pledged himself, if McClise counted
down twelve thousand guilders, that she
should be his wife, and to that pledge she
insisted that he was bound fast—and Van
dermaelen, after reasoning with her, and
pointing out to her that twelve thousand
guilders was a sum so large that McClise
might not procure It until his old age,
even if he were fortunate, acknowledged
that such was his promise, and that he
would, like an honest man, abide by it,
provided that McClise should fulfil his
part of the agreemnet in the space of two
years, after which he should delay her
settlement no longer, and Katerina raised
her eyes to heaven, and whispered as she
clasped her hands, “The Bell.” Alas!
that we should invoke heaven when we
do wrong—but mortals are blind, and
none so blind as those who are impelled
by passion.
It was in the summer of that year that
McClise made his’ arrangements. Hav
ing procured the assistance of several
[awless hands, he had taken the advan
tage of a smooth and glassy sea, attd
high tide, to remove the Bell on his own
vessel, a work of little difficulty to him,
as he had placed it there, and knew well
the fastenings. He sailed away for Am-
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