Sister Helen,And he says that he would speak with you."
"Oh, tell him I fear the frozen dew
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother, Why laughs she thus, between Hell and Heaven?) "The wind is loud, but I hear him cry, Sister Helen, That Keith of Ewern's like to die." "And he and thou, and thou and I, Little brother," (O Mother, Mary Mother, And they and we, between Hell and Heaven!) "Three days ago, on his marriage-morn, Sister Helen, He sickened, and lies since then forlorn." "For bridegroom's side is the bride a thorn, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Cold bridal cheer, between Hell and Heaven!)
We now can surmise the story from the girl's own lips. There are wrongs that a woman cannot forgive, unless she is of very weak character indeed. But this woman is no weakling; she can kill, and laugh while killing, because she is a daughter of warriors, and has been cruelly injured. Notice the bitter mockery of every word she utters, especially the exulting reference to the unhappy bride. We imagine that she might be sorry for killing a man whom she once loved; but we may be perfectly sure that she will feel no pity for the woman that he married.
"Three days and nights he has lain abed,
Sister Helen,
And he prays in torment to be dead."
"The thing may chance, if he have prayed,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother, If he have prayed, between Hell and Heaven!) "But he has not ceased to cry to-day, Sister Helen, That you should take your curse away." "My prayer was heard—he need but pray, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother,> Shall God not hear, between Hell and Heaven?) "But he says till you take back your ban, Sister Helen, His soul would pass, yet never can." "Nay then, shall I slay a living man, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, A living soul, between Hell and Heaven!) "But he calls for ever on your name, Sister Helen, And says that he melts before a flame." "My heart for his pleasure fared the same, Little brother." (O Mother, Mary Mother, Fire at the heart, between Hell and Heaven!) "Here's Keith of Westholm riding fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white plume on the blast." "The hour, the sweet hour I forecast, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is the hour sweet, between Hell and Heaven?) "He stops to speak, and he stills his horse, Sister Helen, But his words are drowned in the wind's course." "Nay hear, nay hear, you must hear perforce, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What word now heard, between Hell and Heaven?) "Oh, he says that Keith of Ewern's cry, Sister Helen, Is ever to see you ere he die." "In all that his soul sees, there am I, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, The soul's one sight, between Hell and Heaven!) "He sends a ring and a broken coin, Sister Helen, And bids you mind the banks of Boyne." "What else he broke will he ever join, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, No, never joined, between Hell and Heaven!)
It was a custom, and in some parts of England still is a custom, for lovers not only to give each other rings, but also to divide something between them—such as a coin or a ring, for pledge and remembrance. Sometimes a ring would be cut in two, and each person would keep one-half. Sometimes a thin coin, gold or silver money, was broken into halves and each of the lovers would wear one-half round the neck fastened to a string. Such pledges would be always recognised, and were only to be sent back in time of terrible danger—in a matter of life and death. There are many references to this custom in the old ballads.
"He yields you these, and craves full fain,
Sister Helen,
You pardon him in his mortal pain."
"What else he took will he give again,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother, Not twice to give, between Hell and Heaven!) "He calls your name in an agony, Sister Helen, That even dead Love must weep to see." "Hate, born of Love, is blind as he, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Love turned to hate, between Hell and Heaven!) "Oh it's Keith of Keith now that rides fast, Sister Helen, For I know the white hair on the blast." "The short, short hour will soon be past, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Will soon be past, between Hell and Heaven!) "He looks at me and he tries to speak, Sister Helen, But oh! his voice is sad and weak!" "What here should the mighty Baron seek, Little brother?" (O Mother, Mary Mother, Is this the end, between Hell and Heaven?) "Oh his son still cries, if you forgive, Sister Helen, The body dies, but the soul shall live." "Fire shall forgive me as I forgive, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, As she forgives, between Hell and Heaven!)
This needs some explanation in reference to religious belief. The witch, you will observe, has the power to destroy the soul as well as the body, but on the condition of suffering the same loss herself. Yet how can this be? It could happen thus: if the dying man could make a confession before he dies, and sincerely repent of his sin before a priest, his soul might be saved; but while he remains in the agony of suffering caused by the enchantment, he cannot repent. Not to repent means to go to Hell for ever and ever. If the woman would forgive him, withdrawing the curse and pain for one instant, all might be well. But she answers, "Fire shall forgive me as I forgive"—she means, "The fire of Hell shall sooner forgive me when I go to Hell, than I shall forgive him in this world." There will be other references to this horrible belief later on. It was very common in the Middle Ages.
"Oh he prays you, as his heart would rive,
Sister Helen,
To save his dear son's soul alive."
"Fire cannot slay it, it shall thrive,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother, Alas, alas, between Hell and Heaven!)
Rive is seldom used now in prose, though we have "riven" very often. To rive is to tear. The last line of this stanza is savage, for it refers to the belief that the black fire of Hell preserves the body of the damned person instead of consuming it.
"He cries to you, kneeling in the road,
Sister Helen,
To go with him for the love of God!"
"The way is long to his son's abode,
Little brother!"
(O Mother, Mary Mother, The way is long, between Hell and Heaven!) "A lady's here, by a dark steed brought, Sister Helen, So darkly clad, I saw her not." "See her now or never see aught, Little brother!" (O Mother, Mary Mother, What more to see, between Hell and Heaven?)
As the horse was black and the lady was all dressed in black, the child could not at first notice either in the shadows of the road. On announcing that he had seen her at last, the excitement of the sister reaches its highest and wickedest; she says to him, "Nay, you will never be able to see anything in this world, unless you can see that woman's face and tell me all about it." For it is the other woman, who has made forgiveness impossible; it is the other woman, the object of her deepest hate.
"Her hood falls back, and the moon shines fair,
Sister Helen,
On the Lady of Ewern's golden hair."
