The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1892-09-01
BROKEN HEARTS.
The Pathetic Romance Of an Old
Cathedral.

Many years ago, stayed awhile in
an old cathedral town in the richest
and lovelicst part of Yorkshire. Such
quaint, old houses, rooted with bright
red tiles, such green meadows and yell
low cornfelds, such great over-shadow-
ing trees, and 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 me. ! thought that could
live forever among the dim aiSlcs of
the grand old church and the shady
gardens of the handsome houses
This is n court OF peace" | said.
"Surely no shadow Of discomfort or
sorrow can ever come within it,"
But this / said in my haste and my
ignorance. At the end Of the first week
of my visit, as l was wandering in my
friends garden, which touched the
graveyard of the cathedral, l heard the
widest, strangest, most sorrowful
music coming from it. | knew the YES
per service was over. l knew this was
not the organist's playing, and my in
fear, and led me to take the keys Of the
vcStry, which were at my command
and satisfy myself. No human cry of
agony was ever more Ineligible.
OWNED at once that some poor, break
ing heart was pouring out itself into
the Divine ear, which understands all
speech and language, and so 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 l was staying. She looked
troubled rs she answered:
ut is the poor old dean. am glad
he has this consolation. Do not disturb
him."
few days aftcrward, as we were
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 the key
note Of his passionate, pleading prayer.
She was dying; no one but Il parent
could have doubted it 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 n couch drawn
close to the open window looking into
garden thick with green shade, and
bright with many sweet flower whose
name is now forgotten. | gazcd on her
with admiration. l 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 | saw in the face and
manner Of a handsome man whom I
took to be her brother. There was,
however, some element in the sorrow
of that dying room that did not under
stand then, though soon aftcrward,
when l knew Mary Uarlowe's history,
1T was clear enough to me.
She was the only child of her father,
who had received her in exchange for
his young wifc'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 Il
sweet and lovely girlhood.
When about seventeen years Of age,
her cousin, Bernard IIarlowe, was sent
to her fathers 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 see, or the king in his crown.
The dean was not SO wrapped up il
spiritual matters as to be oblivious Of ,
what was transpirng under his own |
roof, yet he made no rcmonstrance; so,
though there was no positive engage !
mcnt, Bernard and Mary IIarlowe con-
Sidcrcd themselves as one heart and one
soul for time and for eternity.
One afternoon the sunny stiffness of |
the court was broken 10y the galloping
of horses and the rattle of a carriage
1t stopped at the deans door, and |
Bernard recognized n young earl, IA
nous for his wealth and church patron
age, who owned magnificent seat
about three miles distant.
There is some dispute between nv |
ord bishop and the earl" he said to |
Mary. 81 wonder how the dean will |
between thcm?"
But the earPS visit seemed to them Il !
matter OF the very smallest importance.
under the trees, pulling ripe
berries, or idly gathering some flower
fairer than all it's mates, they did not !
even speculate on the length Of his |
visit or watch for his departure. 1t
was, therefore, with some surprise they
saw him and the dean come slowly |
down the main avenue to-
gcthcr
Mary would have escaped the inter
view by taking n private walk to the
house, but Bernard, with some strange
instinct Of being on the defensive, drew
her arm through his and awaited their
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, bowing,
will do me the honor to cat with me-"
The young nobleman languidly as
sented, following Mary with his eyes
until she was hidden from view by the
Surely, Glowing and hating
come by nature" for ere the earl had