The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1891-03-22

AtAROh5 tAAA AAN ~ AA - 4uAsS
original handwriting uncouth and needless
and moreover incorrect in photography.
The medium started and looked troubled; a
wave of interest ran around the circle; she
bent forward and spoke out the words, II
must speak with MIR. Hawthorne, / want
his sympathy" -4
My father laughed. He had deprecated
and made fun Of the whole business from
the beginning. But with the courtesy of a
man of the world and An tex-consul of the
United States he consented to listen to a
communication which seemed to convey
such urgency. Who was the vehement pc
t%itioner?
In the course of the next half hour we
had as much OF her story as she ever con-
6ded to us. Her name was Mary Rondel.
She WAS born in Boston a hundred years
before. She had died there IN pain and
misery while still a young woman. Her
troubles had their source in a certain men,
Der of our own family, with whom she had
been intimately ACQUAINTED. She was not
happy even yet, and Mr.. Mawthorne's SYM
pathy she must and would have.
But how shall l indicate the weird, cur
ious and yet pathetic impression that was
produced, not more by the matter than by
the manner Of her communications? Mary
kondel was bitterly in earnest; she would
be heard; she upset the propriety of all our
other spiritual friends; it was in vain that
they attempted to assure us that she was a
UdO, Improper, uubfutulul, AFOREMENTIONED
creature. In the midst of their pious hon.
lilies she would swoop down. snatch the PEN
oil. and send it staggering in violent evolu-
tions along the stage; her. l~anguage..was any
thing but conventional: nay, it sometimes
became indisoreet, if not scandalous. o.
casionally our fir little medium would
protest, and remove her hand from the
table. But no sooner did she resume, then
Mary was at it again. She would not be
denied. She was q temperament, a
will, a person. Or all our long
procession of communicates, she alone
showed an unmistakable and vivid individ-
uality. We would have known her had we
ing in the dark void of the unseen world,
for the better part of a century, for an OPP
p%ortunity to declare herself, and she was
not going to let it 90 unimproved. And yet
the poor creature knew not what to say
only that she desired Mr.. Hawthorne's
or by what right she demanded it, we were
not informed. He assured her that he
would not and did not sympathize with
her, heing thereby to pacify her and SO get
rid of her. But no-she chung to us all the
tighter. Having at length found a sympa-
1t soon became impossible to get communi-
cations from anybody except Mary Rondel,
and, since the atmosphere she brought with
her was clearly unheavenly, the seances
were finally abandoned, and that was the
end of Mary, SO far as we were concerned.
Now, the sequel was strange, we returned
to America two or three years later and four
years after that my father died. Some
venerable maiden cousins Of our sent us,
some months subsequently, a box of old
books and papers that had belonged to our
family in the last century. Among the
books was a dllapidated copy of Sir Philip
Sydney's "Arcadia," bearing date 1886. On
tho Ay 1oovao uroro thu orfprroVho ~ r.
number of our ancestors. from the first
emigrant down to Daniel Hawthorne, who,
history says, commanded a privateer dur
ing the revolution. And on the broad
margin at the bottom of the tenth page was
inscribed, in faded brown ink. a woman's
name, "Mary Rondel." 1t is before me as
l write, an i'll formed name, but showing
character.
After some reflection, I remember the
circumstances under which l had seen that
name before. Searching further into the
book, / came upon the love sonnets and
stanzas in the latter part of the volume; but
several of these had been marked round
with a pen, and such CLOSES written in the
margin as Pray, mistris, read this;' or,
Read this as if l myself spake it," Some
of these writings were in the chirography
of Daniel Hawthorne; others, in another
hand. l surmised that the book had once
been read, jointly, by two lovers, who had
taken this indirect means of intimating
their sentiments.
TIL longer l meditated upon the matter.
the more interested l became. At last |
wrote Il letter to those old maiden cousins,
and, without saying anything about the
spiritual experience in the Italian villa, l
enquired whether they we're cognizant OF
any family traditions connected with a
person called Mary Rondel. Here is their
reply: c:
Rondel, of Boston, knew one of your great
uncles. Daniel Hawthorne, about 177b. The
story will not interest you, it ia not credit
able to either party. It ended unfortunate
ly; there had been some talk of a marriage,
but their relations were broken OF, and l
am unable to sny what became of the young
Your uncle afterwards fitted out
n privateer," etc., etc.
No; l don't pretend to explain 1t. I sim
ply give you the facts. Take on the shade
from the lamp. That is enough for one