The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1892-07-22
BROKEN HEARTS.
The Pathetic Romance of an Old
Cathedral


and Ioveliest part of Yorkshire. Such
quaint, old houses, rooted with bright
red tiles. such green meadows and yell
low cornfields, such great over-shadow-
ING trees, and such sweet old-fashioucd
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 me. l thought that l could
live forever among the dim aisles Of
the grand old church and the shady
gardens of the handsome houses.
This Is "a court of peace" l said.
'.Surely no shadow Of discomfort or
sorrow can ever come within it
But this l said in my haste and my
ignorance. At the end Of the first week
of my visit, rs ] was wandering i'm my
friends garden, which touched the
graveyard of the cathedral, heard the
widest strangcSt, most sCrrOwful
music coming from it. l knew the yes
per service was over. l knew this was
not the organist's playing, and my in
tercst and curiosity criumphed 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 inrclli-iblc- l
OWNED 1T once that some poor. break
ing heart was pouring out itself into
the Divine ear, which understands all
speech and language, and 50 l stole
away again. ashamed and sorry for my
intrusion.
Frequently, after this-sometimes
early in the morning. sometimes deep
in the gloaming-I heard the same
musician. At last l spoke To the friend
with whom | was staying. She looked
troubled as she answered:
1T i the poor old dean. l am glad
he has this consolation. Do not disturb
him
\ few days afterward, as we We're
walking mp the court. we met the dean
He begged my friend 10 go into his
house and see his daughter Mary. and
then | soon understood what mighty
grief IL WIS which had struck the key
note OF his passionate, pleading prayer
She was dying; no one but a parent
could have doubted II for one minute
The earnest Of eternity was in her eyes.
which looked as IF they had seen some
vision that had forever separated her
from time. She lay upon couch drawn
close t. the open window looking into
garden thick with green shade. and
bright with many a sweet flower whose
name i now forgotten. l gazed on her
with admiration. / do not think il ever
entered my mind 10 pity her. Preserved
that feeling for the gray misery of her
father. and for the hopeless. resentful-
looking distress / saw IN the face and
manner Of a handsome man whom /
took TO be her brother. There was.
however. some element in the sorrow
of that dying room that l did not under
stand then. though soon aftcrward,
when | knew Mary Harlowe's history,
il was clear enough 10 me.
She was the only child of her father,
who had received her in exchange for
his young wife's life. Among the silent
rooms Of the great house, and in the
pleasant old gardens belonging To the
church property. she had grown up To a
sweet and lovely girlhood.
When about seventeen years Of age.
her cousin. Bernard IIarlovc. was sent
TO her father care. while he prepared
for taking orders. The young man was
not rich. and was never likely to have
any inheritance but the handsome per-
son. the clear head and the 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 the bishop in
his sec, or the king in his crown.
The dean was not 50 wrapped up in
spiritual matters as To be obliviOuS of
what was transpiring under his own
roof vet he made no remOnstrancc; SO,
though there was no positive engage
ment, Bernard and Mary Harlowe con-
sidered themselves a one heart and one
soul for time and for eternity.
One afternoon the sunny stiffness Of
the court was broken 10y the gallopinE
of horses and the rattle Of carriage.
1t stopped at the deans door, and
Bernard recognized young earl. IA
nous for his wealth and church patron
are. who owned n magnificent seat
about three miles distant.
There is some dispute between nv
lord bishop and the earl" he said to
Mary. i wonder how the dean viii
manage between thcm?"
But the earl's visit seemed TO them
matter OF the very smallest Importance.
Wandering under the trees, pulling ripe
berries, or idly gathering some flower
fairer than al its mates. thcv 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 come slowly
walking down the main avenue to-
gether.
Mary would have escaped the inter
view by taking 4 private walk TO the
house, but Bernard. with some strange
instinct of being on the defensive, drew
her arm through his and awaited their
approach. The dean seemed annoyed
at the attitude He introduced his
daughter and his nephew. and then
bade Mary go to prepare for dinner
which Earl Grey" he added, bowling.
will do me the honor to eat with me. 8"
The young nobleman languidly as
scented. following Mary with his eyes
until she was hidden from view by the
shrubberE. Surely, loving and hating
come by nature" for ere the earl had
spoken, Bernard hated him, and long
before the night was over he fancied he
had good cause TO do 50.
He was angry at Mary for looking so
beautiful; he was angry at the earl for
looking AT her beauty. He thought his
uncle disgustingly subServient TO the
young mans rank; he thought Mary
unusually cool TO him. All night long
he was his own tOrmentor, and this was
but the beginning of sorrowS-
The earl, charmed with Nary's fresh
young beauty, SO different from the
clever, intriguing women with whom he
had danced and trified away all the last
season, fancied himself deeply in love
with the simple, innocent girl. He
came again and again, at first inventinl
all sorts OF excuses, finally without any
excuse at all.
1t required, indeed, small persuasion
10 obtain the deans full permission L
WOO his daughter. Then stormy scene:
ensued; uncle and nephew came to bit
terest strife. while Mary's defense o-