The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1876-12-24

would have been his, with all it's chances of
high Prefsrment.
| the heat Of my anger. / sout for my son and
almost cursed him. Idrove bin from my house;
| 1 forbade him ever to set his foot In IL or al
dress me as his mother again. 1 was more
cruel still told him that had never loved
| him. and never could
"Your father heard me patiently until then;
shall never forget bis face when he listened
| to those cruel words. 1t grew white even 10
"Hosh, mother he said, 'evon Git be true.
$50 It is true" cried passionately, hope
and wish may never see You again. Leave
my house, which you have dsgraced: Never,
| unless you return to your senses. and give up
| this folly, never let me hear of you more
Gertrude, my poor boy kissed my angry
! face. God help me. mother he SAID, oelieVe
you speak truly; believe you have never loved
me and never will. will go from you as you
| wish it, never to RETURN
"Hs went, and have never seen MIN since;
For some years my angry pride was hot and
bitter as ever. Listen how God punished me.
"My handsome debonnaire son Edgar, whom
loved so passiopateiy, was taken from rom me.
rious promise. For years Afterwards never
smiled. left the Manor House at Berton, the
home of my family for many generations; let
| it 10 strangers and came here, away from the
world, where I conld hide my sorrow and my
most bitter remorse. For, Gertrude, from the
| grief over my dead son love for the one had
| lost, though living. grew strongly upon me. my
heart began to yearu for him whom had SO
cruelty treated. l resolved to fad him, and
atone for the pact; but, alas! all my efforts
| were vain. He bad written to me three times;
each letter in my anger had burned unopen-
| ed, In the whole wide world knew not where
| to search. would not advertise, would not
| lay open to the worlds cartons gaze this one
spot that darkened my life. spent large sums
| of money in conducting private search for
my lost son. It years before any trace of
him was found. discovered then that he had
been engaged since he left England in manag-
ing branch of business in Austria, and that
he was supposed to have saved some money. L
heard he had married an English Catbohc
la6v, the daughter of English parents resident
in Vienna BuJ, alas he had left Austria when
/ received this information and had taken his
family to hiannheim, where more lucrative
post had been offered him. He was traced to
town called Alsace. There all clue to his
whereabouts was lost until those employed in
the search discovered in the little cemetery a
plain stone cross at the head of a green grass
covered grave; on it was engraved;
ITO the memory of Arnold Isle, who died
August 15, Is; on whose soul may sweet Je-
sus have mercy!'
al have prayed for pardon with weeping eyes
and aching heart. 1 believe He has heard my
prayer, and that is why He lets me clasp my
sons child in my arms. Gertrude, can you ever
forgive me and love me"
The young girl kissed the pale, mournful
face bent anxiously over her. She could not
answer in words.
ain this pocket book" continued Mrs. Eyrle
"are the only mementoesI have of my lost son;
there is lock of his hair cut off one day
when
his grave from the little cemetery in Alsace,
and the papers containing memoranda OF the
search:
, dear to me Arnold's father had two made, just
alike, with the motto of his family, 10y atty
and love- engraved upon them. He gave one
to ma and wore one himself. On his deathbed
he gave the ring to his son, and told him never
| to part with it,"
. - He wore it until few hours before hi:
> DEATH said Gertrude; then he placed 1t or
| potE r,e 6pu AVID al her q OF
me, and never 10 let it pass into etran ge hands
, g Did your father ever mention me I" asked
e Mrs. Eyre.
az do rot remember. He told us all that b.
2 bad offended his family, and they would neve
. be reconcilsd TO him again. never Temembe
f hearing your name"
I Your rnotLer will, perhaps" said the lady
eyes, my mother will; my father had IA
J., secrets from her.
|. "Gertrude," cried Mrs. Eyrle, r sing, g let N
d | 60 with you to your mother now
l. For the first time ia her life, Gertrude 500
n found herself seated in q luxurious carriage
V She smiled abe pictured TO herself Lily
/ surprise when that gay eQulpage stopped
q Mrs. Fame was somewhat batter that morn
@ ing Another of the golden pieces had bee
u changed, and bottle of wine procured. Toi
d had revived her; she lay upon the couch in tb
q meagerly furnished little parton One chee
AZ was flushed with a hectic color, the otbe
N looked white and sunken. Sue appeared ag
Ii tstSd when she saw the tall, stately lady VII
re Gu tered the room with Gertrude.
OF ne young girl vent up W hFl ob
,r clasped her soft arms around her neck. " Mau
sr ma dearest" she said, 90 do not he frightened
OF this lady was my fathers friend.'
g. II knew your husband many wears ago" sal
! Mrs. Eyrle, knew all his family we'll, cat
a not understand why you call yourself Fame.
is IF you, knew my husbands family sal
ed Mrs. Fame. lyon would understand why. e
ID asked me on his deathbed to resume my mai'
Id en- naue, so that his mother could not dIscoVt
US. cannot tell what he feared"
q. "His mother has discovered you. said Mr
of Eyre, and she is come to beg that pardo
be from her sons wife that she would fam be
ly from him!'
d. Gertrude never forgot that scene. The stat
~ lady with her gray head bent IN such low
T." Submission and her mothers raining tears
Oh she recon uted TO her husbands mother the il
cidents of his laborious, troubled life.
no Golden haired Lilly was persuaded at lengt
to sit upon grandma's" knee, and piaye
~ timldly with the wonderful chain and bracele
er the lady wore.
cit That night Beech Cottage was empty, al
a. NJ. 3 Graud-cte=cent was euliyeued By I'll
er, sounds of glad young voices and the briSh
E ,Frl, faoo