Love is rich in his own right,
He is heir of all the spheres,
In his service day and night,
Swing the tides and roll the
years.
What has he to ask of fate?
Crown him; glad or desolate.
Time puts out all other flames,
But the glory of his eyes;
His are all the sacred names,
His are all the mysteries.
Crown him! In his darkest day
He has Heaven to give away!
-CARL SPENCER.
Arms are fair,
When the intent for bearing them is just.
In the meantime Sunna was spending
the evening with her grandfather. The old gentleman
was reading, but she did not ask him to read aloud,
she knew by the look and size of the book that it would
not be interesting; and she was well pleased when
one of her maids desired to speak with her.
“Well then, Vera, what is thy wish?”
“My sister was here and she
was bringing me some strange news. About Mistress
Brodie she was talking.”
“Yes, I heard she had come home.
Did she bring Thora Ragnor a new Easter gown?”
“Of a gown I heard nothing.
It was a young man she brought! O so beautiful
is he! And like an angel he sings! The Bishop
was very friendly with him, and the Ragnors, also;
but they, indeed! they are friendly with all kinds
of people.”
“This beautiful young man, is
he staying with the Ragnors?”
“With Mistress Brodie he is
staying, and with her he went to dinner at the Ragnors’.
And the Bishop was there and the young man was singing,
and a great deal was made of his singing, also they
were speaking of his father who is a famous preacher
in some Edinburgh kirk, and -”
“These things may be so, but
how came thy sister to know them?”
“This morning my sister took
work with Mistress Ragnor and she was waiting on them
as they eat; and in and out of the room until nine
o’clock. Then, as she went to her own home,
she called on me and we talked of the matter, and
it seemed to my thought that more might come of it.”
“Yes, no doubt. I shall
see that more does come of it. I am well pleased
with thee for telling me.”
Then she went back to her grandfather
and resumed her knitting. Anon, she began to
sing. Her face was flushed and her nixie eyes
were dancing to the mischief she contemplated.
In a few minutes the old gentleman lifted his head,
and looked at her. “Sunna,” he said,
“thy song and thy singing are charming, but
they fit not the book I am reading.”
“Then I will stop singing and
thou must talk to me. There has come news, and
I want thy opinion on it. The Ragnors had a dinner
party today, and we were not asked.”
“A great lie is that! Conall
Ragnor would not give Queen Victoria a party in Lent.
Who told thee such foolishness?”
Then Sunna retailed the information
given her and asked, “What hast thou done to
Conall Ragnor? Always before he bid thee to dinner
when the Bishop was at his house? Or perhaps
the offence is with Rahal Ragnor? Not long ago
thou spent an afternoon with her and black and dangerous
as a thunder storm thou came home.”
“This day the dinner was an
accidental gathering. Rahal knows well that I
have no will to dine with Mistress Brodie. Dost
thou want her here, as thy stepmother?”
“If Mistress Brodie is not tired
of an easy life, she will turn her feet away from
this house. If Sunna cannot please thee, thou
art in danger of worse happening. Yes, many are
guessing who it is thou wilt marry.”
“And which way runs the guessing?”
“Not all one way. For thee,
that is not a respectable thing. Thou should
not be named with so many old women.”
“I am of thy opinion. An
old woman is little to my mind. If I trust marriage
again, I will choose a young girl for my wife-such
an one as Treddie Fae, or Thora Ragnor.”
“Thora Ragnor! Dreaming
thou art! I am sure Barbara Brodie has brought
this young man here for Thora’s approval.
Can thou stand against a young man?”
“Yes. Adam Vedder and fifty
thousand pounds can hand any young man his hat and
gloves. Thy father’s father is not for thee
to make a jest about. So here our talk shall
come to an end on this subject. Go to thy bed!
Sleep, and the Good Being bless thee!”
Sunna was not yet inclined to sleep.
She sat down before her mirror, uncoiled her plentiful
hair, and carefully brushed and braided it for the
night, as she considered the news that had come to
her.
“This beautiful young man, this
singing man, is one of Barbara Brodie’s ‘finds.’
Not much do I think of any of them! That handsome
scholar she brought here turned out an unbearable encumbrance.
I believe she paid him to go back to Edinburgh.
That Aberdeen man, who wanted to invest money in Kirkwall
had to borrow two pounds from grandfather to take
him back to where he came from. That witty, good-looking
Irishman left a big bill at the Castle Hotel for some
one to pay; and the woman who wanted to begin a dressmaking
business, on the good will of people like Barbara
Brodie, knew nothing about dressmaking. This
beautiful young man, I’ll warrant, is a fish
out of the same net. As for the Bishop being
taken with his beauty, that is nothing! The poorer
a man is, the better Bishop Hedley will like him.
So it goes! I wish I knew where Boris Ragnor is-I
wish -
“Pshaw! I wonder what kind
of a dress Mistress Barbara Brodie brought Thora.
Not much taste in either men or clothes has she!
Too large will the pattern be, or too strong the colours,
and too heavy, or too light, will be the material.
I know! And it will not fit her. Too big,
or too little it is sure to be! With my own dress
I am satisfied. And if grandfather asks no questions
about it, I shall count it a lucky dress and save
it till Boris comes home. I am going to forgive
him when he comes home-perhaps -Now
I will put the hopes and worries of this world under
my pillow and be off to the Land of Dreams -Tomorrow
is Sunday, Easter Sunday-I shall sing the
solo in my new dress-that is good, I like
a religious feeling in a new dress-I think
I am rather a religious girl.”
Alas for the hopes of all who wanted
to dress for Easter. It was an uncompromising,
wet day. It was oil skin and rubber for the men;
it was cloaks and pattens and umbrellas for the women.
Yet, aside from the rain, it was a day full of good
things. The cathedral was crowded, there was
full cathedral service, and the Bishop preached a
transfiguring sermon. The music was good, the
home choir did well, and Sunna’s solo was effectively
sung; but after she had heard Ian Macrae’s “Gloria,”
she was sorry she had sung at all.
“Grandfather!” she commented,
“No private person has a right to sing as that
man sings! After him, non-professionals make a
show of themselves.”
“Thou sang well-better than usual,
I thought.”
“I was told he was such a handsome
young man! And he has black hair and black eyes!
Even his skin is dark. He looks like a Celt.
I don’t like Celts. None of our people
like them. When they come to the fishing they
are not respected.”
“Thou art much mistaken. Our men like them.”
“Boris Ragnor says they are poor traders.”
“Well then, it is to fish they come.”
“What they come for is no care
of mine. Boris is ten times more of a man than
the best of them. No notice shall I take of this
Celt.”
“Through thy scorn he may live,
and even enjoy his life. The English officers
do that.”
“This chicken is better than
might be. Wilt thou have a little more of it?”
“Enough is plenty. I have
had enough. At Conall Ragnor’s there is
always good eating and I am going there for my supper.
Wilt thou go with me? Then with Thora thou can
talk. This beautiful young man is likely at Ragnor’s.
It was too stormy for Mistress Brodie to go to her
own house at the noonday. Dost thou see then,
how it will be?”
“I will go with thee, I want
to see Thora’s new dress. I need not notice
the young man.”
“His name? Already I have forgotten it.”
“Odd was calling him ‘Macrae.’”
“Macrae! That is Highland
Scotch. The Macraes are a good family. There
is a famous minister in Edinburgh of that name.
The Calvinists all swear by him.”
“This man sang in a full cathedral
service. Dost thou believe a Calvinist would
do that? He would be sure it was a disguised mass,
and nothing better.”
Adam laughed as he said, “Well,
then, go with me this night to Ragnor’s and
between us we will find something out. A mystery
is not pleasant to thee.”
“There is something wrong in
a mystery, that is what I feel.”
“Thou can ask Thora all about him.”
“I shall not ask her. She will tell me.”
Adam laughed again. “That
is the best way,” he said. “It was
thy father’s way. Well then, five minutes
ago, the wind changed. By four o’clock
it will be fair.”
“Then I will be ready to go
with thee. If I am left alone, I am sad; and
that is not good for my health.”
“But thou must behave well, even to the Celt.”
“Unless it is worth my while, I do not quarrel
with any one.”
“Was it worth thy while to quarrel with Boris
Ragnor?”
“Yes-or I had not quarrelled with
him.”
“Here comes the sunshine! Gleam upon gloom!
Cheery and good it is!”
“They say an Easter dress should
be christened with a few drops of rain. That
is not my opinion. I like the Easter sunshine
on it. Now I shall leave thee and go and rest
and dress myself. Very good is thy talk and thy
company to me, but to thee, I am foolishness.
As I shut the door, the big book thou art reading,
thou wilt say to it: ’Now, friend of my
soul, some sensible talk we will have together, for
that foolish girl has gone to her foolishness at her
looking glass.’”
“Run away! I am in a hurry for my big book.”
Sunna shut the door with a kiss-and
as she took the stairs with hurrying steps, the sunshine
came dancing through the long window, and her feet
trod on it and it fell all over her.
At four o’clock she was ready
for her evening’s inquest and she found her
grandfather waiting for her. He had put on a light
vest and a white tie, and he had that clean, healthy,
good-tempered look that pleases all women. He
smiled and bowed to Sunna and she deserved the compliment;
for she was beautiful and had dressed her beauty most
becomingly. Her gown was of Saxony cloth, the
exact colour of her hair, with a collar, stomacher
and high cuffs of pale green velvet. The collar
was tied with cord and small tassels of gold braid;
the stomacher laced with gold braid over small gilt
buttons, and the high cuffs were trimmed to match.
Very handsome gilt combs held up her rippled hair,
and a large red-riding-hood cloak covered her from
the crowning bow of her hair to the little French
pattens that protected her black satin slippers.
She expected to make a conquest, and her thoughts
were usually the factors of success.
A little disappointment awaited her.
She was usually shown into the right-hand parlour
at once, and she relied on the bit of colour afforded
by her scarlet cloak to give life to the modest shades
of her spring colours of pale fawn and tender green.
But servants were setting the dinner table in the
right-hand parlour; and Conall and Rahal and Aunt
Barbara had taken themselves to Conall’s little
business room where there was a bright fire burning.
There, in his big chair, Conall was next door to sleeping;
and Barbara and Rahal were talking in a sleepy, mysterious
way about something that did not appear to interest
them.
At the sound of Adam Vedder’s
voice, Conall became wide awake; and Barbara’s
face lighted up with a fresh interest. If there
was nothing else, there was a chronic quarrel between
them, which Barbara was ready to lift at a moment’s
notice. But Sunna was not dissatisfied.
Conall’s quick look of admiration, and Rahal’s
and Barbara’s glances of surprise, were excellent
in their way. She knew she had given them a subject
of interest sufficient to make even the hour before
dinner appear short.
“Where is Thora?” she
asked, as she turned every way, apparently to look
for Thora, but really to allow her admirers to convince
themselves that her dress was trimmed as handsomely
at the back as the front-that if the stomacher
was perfect in front, the sash of green velvet at
the back was quite as stylish and elaborate.
“Where is Thora?” she asked again.
“In the drawing room thou wilt
find Thora with Ian Macrae,” said Rahal.
“Go to them. They will be glad of thy company.”
“Doubtful is their gladness.
Two are company, three are a crowd. Yet so it
is! I must run into danger, like the rest of women.”
“Is that thy Easter gown, Sunna?” asked
Mistress Brodie.
“It is. Dost thou like it?”
“Who would not like it?
The rumour goes abroad that thy grandfather sent to
Inverness for it. Others say it came to thee from
Edinburgh.”
“Wrong are both stories.
I am happy to say that Sunna Vedder gave herself a
dress so pretty and so suitable.”
With these smiling words she left
the room and the elder women shrugged their shoulders
and looked expressively at each other. “What
can a sensible man like Boris Ragnor see in such a
harum-scarum girl!” was Rahal Ragnor’s
question, and Barbara Brodie thought it was all Adam
Vedder’s fault. “He ought to have
married some sensible woman who would have brought
up the girl as girls ought to be brought up,”
she answered; adding, “We may as well remember
that the management of women, at any age, is a business
clean beyond Adam Vedder’s capabilities.”
“Adam is a clever man, Barbie.”
“Book clever! What is the
use of book wisdom when you have a live girl, full
of her own way, to deal with?”
“Conall chose the husbands for
his daughters. They were quite suitable to the
girls and they have been very happy with them.”
“Thora will choose for herself.”
“Perhaps, that may be so.
Thora has been spoiled. Her marriage need not
yet be thought of. In two or three years, we will
consider it. The little one has not yet any dreams
of that kind.”
“Such dreams come in a moment-when
you are not thinking of them.”
In fact, at that very moment Thora
was learning the mystery of “falling in love”;
and there is hardly a more vital thing in life than
this act. For it is something taking place in
the subconscious self; it is a revolution, and a growth.
It happened that after dinner, Conall wished to hear
Ian sing again that loveliest of all metrical Collects,
“Lord of All Power and Might,” and Thora
went with Ian to do her part as accompanist on the
piano. As they sang Conall appeared to fall asleep,
and no more music was asked for.
Then Ian lifted a book full of illustrations
of the English lake district, and they sat down on
the sofa to examine it. Ian had once been at
Keswick and Ambleside, and he began to tell her about
Lake Windemere and these lovely villages. He
was holding Thora’s hand and glancing constantly
into her face, and before he recognised what he was
saying, Ambleside and Windemere were quite forgotten,
and he was telling Thora that he loved her with an
everlasting love. He vowed that he had loved
her in his past lives, and would love her, and only
her, forever. And he looked so handsome and spoke
in words of the sweetest tenderness, and indeed was
amazed at his own passionate eloquence, but knew in
his soul that every word he said was true.
And Thora, the innocent little one,
was equally sure of his truth. She blushed and
listened, while he drew her closer to his side calling
her “his own, his very own!” and begging
her to promise that she would “marry him, and
no other man, in the whole earth.”
And Thora promised him what he wished
and for one-half hour they were in Paradise.
Now, how could this love affair have
come to perfection so rapidly? Because it was
the natural and the proper way. True love dates
its birth from the first glance. It is the coming
together of two souls, and in their first contact
love flashes forth like flame. And then their
influence over each other is like that gravitation
which one star exerts over another star.
But much that passes for love is not
love. It is only a prepossession, pleasant and
profitable, promising many every-day advantages.
True love is a deep and elemental thing, a secret
incredible glory, in a way, it is even a spiritual
triumph. And we should have another name for
love like this. For it is the long, long love,
that has followed us through ages, the healing love,
the Comforter! In the soul of a young, innocent
girl like Thora, it is a kind of piety, and ought to
be taken with a wondering thankfulness.
An emotion so spiritual and profound
was beyond Sunna’s understanding. She divined
that there had been some sort of love-making, but she
was unfamiliar with its present indications.
Her opinion, however, was that Ian had offered himself
to Thora, and been rejected; in no other way could
she account for the far-offness of both parties.
Thora indeed was inexplicable. She not only refused
to show Sunna her Easter dress, she would not enter
into any description of it.
“That is a very remarkable thing,”
she said to her grandfather, as they walked home together.
“I think the young man made love to Thora and
even asked her to marry him, and Thora was frightened
and said ‘No!’ and she is likely sorry
now that she did not say ‘Yes.’”
“To say ‘No!’ would
not have frightened thee, I suppose?”
“That is one of the disagreeable
things women have to get used to.”
“How often must a woman say
‘No!’ in order to get used to it?”
“That depends on several small
things; for instance I am very sympathetic. I
have a tender heart! Yes, and so I suffer.”
“I am glad to know of thy sympathy.
If I asked thee to marry a young man whom I wished
thee to marry, would thou do it-just to
please me?”
“It would depend-on my mood that
day.”
“Say, it was thy sympathetic mood?”
“That would be unfavourable.
Of the others I should think, and I should feel that
I was cruel; if I took all hope from them.”
“Thou wilt not be reasonable.
I am not joking. Would thou marry Boris to please
me?”
“Boris has offended me.
He must come to me, and say, ‘I am sorry.’
He must take what punishment I choose for his rudeness
to me. Then, I may forgive him.”
“And marry him?”
“Only my angel knows, if it
is so written. Men do not like to do as their
women say they must do. Is there any man in the
Orcades who dares to say ‘No,’ to his
wife’s ‘Yes?’”
“What of Sandy Stark?”
“Sandy is a Scot! I do
not use a Scotch measure for a Norseman. Thou
art not a perfect Norseman, but yet, even in Edinburgh,
there is no Scot that could be thy measure. I
should have to say-’thou art five
inches taller than the Scot at thy side, and forty
pounds heavier, and nearly twice as strong.’
That would not be correct to an ounce, but it is as
near as it is possible to come between Norse and Scot.”
“Thou art romancing!”
“As for the Norse women -”
“About Norse women there is
no need for thee to teach thy grandfather. I
know what Norse women are like. If I did not know,
I should have married again.”
“Well then, Barbara Brodie is
a good specimen of a capable Norse woman and I have
noticed one thing about them, that I feel ought to
be better understood.”
“Chut! What hast thou understood?
Talk about it, and let thy wisdom be known.”
“Well then, it is this thing-Norse
women always outlive their husbands. Thou may
count by tens and hundreds the widows in this town.
The ‘maidens of blushing fifteen’ have
no opportunities; the widow of fifty asks a young
man into her beautiful home and makes him acquainted
with the burden of her rents and dividends and her
share in half a dozen trading boats, and he takes
to the golden lure and marries himself like the rest
of the world. Thou would have been re-married
long ago but for my protection. I have had a very
disagreeable day and -”
“Then go to thy bed and put an end to it.”
“My new dress is crushed and
some way or other I have got a spot on the front breadth.
Is it that Darwin book thou art looking for?”
“Yes.”
“Would thou like to read a chapter to me?”
“No, I would not.”
“Grandfather, I can understand
it. I like clever men. Can thou introduce
me to him-to Darwin?”
“He would not care to see thee.
Clever men do not want clever wives; so if thou art
thinking of a clever husband keep thy ‘blue stockings’
well under thy petticoats.”
“And grandfather, do thou keep
out of the way of the widows of Orkney or thou wilt
find thyself inside of a marriage ring.”
“Not while thou remains unmarried.
Few women would care to look after thy welfare.
I am used to it, long before thou had been short-coated,
I had to walk thee to sleep in my arms.”
“Yes,” laughed Sunna,
“I remember that. I felt myself safest with
thee.”
“Thou remembers nothing of the
kind. At six months old, thou could neither compare
nor remember.”
“But thou art mistaken.
I was born with perfect senses. Ere I was twenty-four
hours old, I had selected thee as the most suitable
person to walk me to sleep. I think that was
a proof of my perfect intelligence. One thing
more, and then I will let thee read. I am going
to marry Boris Ragnor, and then the widow Brodie would-take
charge of thee.” She shut the door to these
words and Adam heard her laughing all the way to her
own room. Then he rubbed his hand slowly over
and over his mouth and said to himself-“She
shall have her say-so; Boris is the only man on the
Islands who can manage her.”
After the departure of the Vedders,
Rahal and her sister Brodie went upstairs, taking
Thora with them. She went cheerfully though a
little reluctantly. She liked to hear Ian talk.
She had thought of asking him to sing; but she was
satisfied with the one straight, long look which flashed
between them, as Ian bid her “good night”;
for-
He looked at her as a lover can;
She looked at him as one who awakes,
The past was a sleep and her life began.
Then she went to her room, and thought
of Ian until she fell asleep and dreamed of him.
For nearly two hours Ian remained
with Conall Ragnor. The Railway Mania was then
at its height in England, and the older man was delighted
with Ian’s daring stories of its mad excitement.
Ian had seen and talked with Hudson, the draper’s
clerk, who had just purchased a fine ducal residence
and estate from the results of his reckless speculations.
Ian knew all the Scotch lines, he had even full faith
in the Caledonian when it was first proposed
and could hardly win any attention. “Every
one said a railway between England and Scotland would
not pay, Mr. Ragnor,” said Ian.
“I would have said very different,”
replied Conall. “It would be certain to
pay. Why not?”
“Because there would be no
returns,” laughed Ian, and then Conall laughed
also, and wished that Boris had been there to learn
whatever Ian might teach him.
“Hast thou speculated in railway stock yet,”
he asked.
“No, sir. I have not had the money to do
so.”
“How would thou buy if thou had?”
“I would buy when no one else
was buying, and when everyone else was buying, I would
keep cool, and sell. A very old and clever speculator
gave me that advice as a steady rule, saying it was
’his only guide.’”
This was the tenor of the men’s
conversation until near midnight, and then Ragnor
went with Ian to the door of his room and bid him a
frank and friendly good night. And as he stood
a moment handfast with the youth, his conscience troubled
him a little and he said: “Ian, Ian, thou
art a wise lad about this world’s business, but
thou must not be forgetting that there is another
world after this.”
“I do not forget that, sir.”
“Bishop Hedley is a greater
and wiser man than all the railway nabobs thou hast
spoken of.”
“I think so, sir! I do
indeed!” and the mutual smile and nod that followed
required no further “good night.”
It was a lovely, silent night.
The very houses looked as if they were asleep; and
there was not a sound either in the town on the brown
pier or the moonlit sea. It was a night full
of the tranquillity of God. Men and women looked
into its peace, and carried its charm into their dreams.
For most fine spirits that dwell by the sea have an
elemental sympathy with strange oracles and dreams
and old Night. In the morning, Conall Ragnor
was the first to awaken. He went at once to fling
open his window. Then he cried out in amazement
and wonder, and awakened his wife:-
“Rahal! Rahal!” he
shouted. “Come here! Come quick!
Look at the town! It is hung with flags.
The ships in the harbour-flying are their
flags also! And there is a ship just entering
the harbour and her colours are flying! And there
are the guns! They are saluting her from the
garrison! It must be a man-of-war! I wonder
if the Queen is coming to see us at last! If
thou art ready, call Thora and Barbara. Something
is up! Thou may hear the town now, all tip-on-top
with excitement!”
“Why did not thou call us sooner, Coll?”
“I slept late and long.”
“But thou must have heard the town noises?”
“A confused noise passed through
my ears, a noise full of hurry like a morning dream,
that was all. Now, I am going for my swim and
I will bring the news home with me.”
But long before it was within expectation
of Ragnor’s return, the three women standing
at the open door saw Ian coming rapidly to the house
from the town. His walk was swift and full of
excitement. His head was thrown upward, and he
kept striking himself on the right side, just over
the place where his ancestors had worn their dirks
or broadswords. As soon as he saw the three women
he flung his Glengarry skyward and shouted a ringing
“Hurrah!”
As he approached them, all were struck
with his remarkable beauty, his manly figure, his
swift graceful movements and his handsome face suffused
with the brightness of fiery youth. Through their
long black lashes his eyes were shining and glowing
and full of spirit, and indeed his whole personality
was instinct with verve and fire. Anyone watching
his approach would have said-“Here
comes a youth made to lead a rattling charge of cavalry.”
“Whatever is the matter with
you, Ian?” cried Mistress Brodie. “You
are surely gone daft.”
“No indeed!” he answered.
“I seem at this very hour to have just found
myself and my senses.”
“What is all the fuss about, Ian?” asked
Rahal.
“England has gone to war at
the long last with the cruel, crafty black Bear of
the North.”
“Well then, it is full time
she did so, there are none will say different.”
“And,” continued Ian,
“there is a ship now in harbour carrying enlisting
officers-you may see her; she is to call
at the Orkney and Shetland Islands for recruits for
the navy, and Great Scot! she will get them!
All she wants! She could take every man out of
Kirkwall!”
“The Mayor and Captain Ragnor
will not permit her to do so. She will have to
leave men to manage the fishing,” said Rahal.
“I thought the women could do that,” said
Ian.
“You do not know what you are
talking about. It takes two or three men to lift
a net full of fish out of the water, and they are about
done up if they manage it. Come in and get your
breakfast. If your news be true, there is no
saying when Ragnor will get home. He will have
some reasoning with his men to do, he cannot spare
many of them.”
“I have a good idea,”
said Mistress Brodie. “I will give a dance
on Friday night for the enlisting officers, and we
will invite all the presentable young men, and all
the prettiest girls, to meet them.”
“But you will be too late on
Friday. The cutter and her crew will leave Thursday
morning early,” said Ian.
“Then say Wednesday night.”
“That might do. I could
tell the men freshly enlisted to wear a white ribbon
in their coats -”
“No, no, no!” cried Rahal.
“What are you saying, Ian? A white favour
is a Stuart favour. You would set the men fighting
in the very dance room. There is no excuse in
the Orkneys for a Stuart memory.”
“I was not thinking of the Stuarts.
Have they not done bothering yet?”
“In the Scotch heart the Stuart
lives forever,” said Rahal, with a sigh.
But the dance was decided on and some
preparations made for it as soon as breakfast was
over. Ian was enthusiastic on the matter and Thora
caught his enthusiasm very readily, and before night,
all Kirkwall was preparing to feast and rejoice because
England was going to make the great Northern Bear-“the
Bear that walks like a man”-stay in
the North where he belonged.