The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1892-07-12
BROKEN HEARTS.
Tho Pathetic Romance of ca Old
Cathedral

and lovclicst part of Yorkshire. Such
quaint old houses, rooted with bright
rcd tiles, such green meadowS and vel
low cornfclds, such great Ovcr-shadow-
ing trees, und such sweet old-fashioned
gardens, shall never see again. But
the great charm to my young fancy was
the solemn old cathedral and the cool,
silent courts of houses that clustered
round it. The dreamy, peaceful life
enchanted INC | thought that could
live forever among the dim aisles of
the grand old church and the shady
gardens of tho handsome houses.
This is court of peace" said
Surely no shadow of discomfort or
sorrow can ever come within it
But this | said in my has1e and my
Ignorance At the end Of the first week
of my visit, as I was wandering in my
friends garden, which touched tho
graveyard of the cathedral, l heard tho
widest, strangcSt, most sorrOwful
music coming from it. knew the yes
per service was over. ] knew this was
not the organist's playing, and my in
tcrcst and curiosity triumphcd over my
fear, and led me to take the keys of the
vestry, which were at my command,
and satisfy myself. No human cry of
agony was ever more intelligiblc.
OWNED ut once that some poor, break
ing heart was pouring out itself into
the Divine ear, which understands NIL
speech ard language, and SO / stole
away ngnin, ashamed and sorry for my
intrusion.
Frequently, after this-sometimes
carly in the morning, sometimes deep
in the gloaming-I heard tho same
musician At last spoke to tho friend
with whom was staying. She looked
troubled as she answered:
ut Is the poor old dean. am glad
he has this consolation Do not disturb
him"
few days nftcrward. ns we wcro
walking up the court, we met the dean
lie begged my friend to go into his
house and see his daughter Mary, and
then / soon understood what mighty
grief it was which had struck tho key
note of his passionate, pleading prayer.
She was dying; no one but q parent
could have doubted it for one minute.
The earnest of eternity was in her eyes,
which looked rs if they had seen some
vision that had forever separated her
from time. She lay upon couch drawn
garden thick with green shade, and
bright with many Il sweet flower whose
name is now forgotten gazed on her
with admiration. do not think it ever
entered my mind TO pity her. Preserved
that feeling for the gray misery of her
father, and for the hopeless, rcsentful-
looking distress I saw in the face and
manner of n handsome man whom
fr,lr To 1><.
however, some element in the sorrow
of that dying room that did not under
stand then, though soon afterwnrd.
when / knew Mary IIarlowe's history,
it was clear enough to me.
She was tho only child of her father,
who had received her in exchange for
his young wife's life. Among tho silent
rooms of the great house, and in the
pleasant old gardens belonging to the
church property. she had grown up to
sweet and lovely girlhood-
When about seventeen years Of age,
her cousin, bernard IIarlowc, was sent
to her fathers cnre, whiIo he prepared
for taking orders. Tho young man was
not rich. and was never likely to have
any inheritance but tho handsome per
son, the clear head and tho warm heart
nature had given him. But Mary loved
him almost from the first day of his ar
rival. and bernard thought himself
richer in that Love than tho bishop in
his see, or the king in his crown.
Tho dean was not SO wrapped up in
spiritual matters rs to bo oblivious OF
what was transpiring under his own
roof, yet he made no rcmonstrancc; so.
though there was no positive engage
mcnt. Bernard and Mary Harlowe con-
sidcrcd themselves as one heart and one
soul for time and for eternity.
zinc afternoon the sunny stiffness OF
the court was broken by the galloping
of horses and the rattle of a carriage.
1t stopped at the deans door, and
bernard recognized young carl IA
nous for his wealth and church patron
age, who owned magnificent seat
about three miles distant.
There is some dispute between nv
lord bishop and the earl" he said TO
Mary. II wonder how the dean will
manage between them?"
But the carl's visit seemed TO them n
matter of the very smallest Importance
Wandering under tho trees, pulling ripe
berries, or idly gathering some flower
faircr than all its mates, they did not
even speculate ON the length of his
visit or watch for his departure. It
was therefore. with some surprise they
SAW him and the dean como slowly
walking down the main avenue to-
gcthcr
Mary would have escaped the inter
view by taking a private walk to the
house, but bernard. with some strange
instinct of being on the defensive, drew
hor arm through his and awaited their