The News-Herald. [volume] (Hillsboro, Highland Co., Ohio) 1886-1973, 1892-07-07
BROKEN HEARTS.
Tho Pathetic Romance Of "a Old
Cathedral

an old cathedral town in the richest
and loveliest part of Yorkshire. Such
quaint, old houses, rooted with bright
red tiles, such green meadows and yell
low cornfields, such great ovcr-shadow-
Ing trees, and such sweet old-fnshioned
gardens, shall never see again. But
the great charm to my young fancy was
the solemn old cathedral nnd the cool,
silent courts of houses that clustered
round It Tho 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 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 wcck
of rny visit, as was wandering In my
friends garden, which touched the
graveyard of the cathedral, heard the
widest, strongest, most sorrowful
music coming from it. knew the ves-
per service was over. knew this was
not the organist's playing, and my In
terest and curiosity triumphed over my
vestry, which were ut my command,
and satisfy myself. No human cry Of
agony was ever more intelligiblc.
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 ! stole
away again, ashamed and sorry for my
intrusion.
Frequently, after this-sometimes
early in the morning, sometimes deep
in tho gloaming-I hoard the same
musician. AT last spoke to the friend
with whom I was staying. She looked
troubled as she answered:
sit is the poor old dean. am glad
he has this consolation Do not disturb
him."
A few days afterwartl, as we were
walking up the court, we met the dean.
He 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 q 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 couch drawn
close to the open window looking into
a garden thick with G-ccG shade, and
bright with r.a2y G sweet flower whose
name is now forgotten. gazcd on her
entered my mind to pity her. I reserved
that feeling for tho gray misery of her
father, and for the hopeless, rescntful-
looking distress I saw in tho face and
manner of q handsome man whom
took to be her brother. There wns,
however. some element in the sorrow
of that dying room that did not under
stand then, though soon aftcrword.
when knew Mary Harlowe's history,
it was clear enough to mo.
She wGs 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
sweet and lovely girlhood.
When about seventeen years Of age,
her cousin, Bernard Hnrlowe. was sent
to her fathers care, whilc he prepared
for taking orders. The young man was
not rich, and was never likely to have
any inheritance bnt 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 in
spiritual matters ns to be oblivious of
what was transpiring under his own
though there was no positive engage
mcnt, Bernard and Mary Harlowe con-
sidered themselves as one heart and ono
soul for time and for eternity.
One afternoon the sunny stiffness Of
the court was broken by the galloping
of horses and the rattle of q carriage.
It stopped ut the deans door, and
Bernard recognized young earl IA
nous for his wealth and church patron
age. who owned a magnificent seat
about three miles distant
There is some dispute between my
lord bishop and the earl" he said to
Mary. II wonder how the dean will
manage between them?"
But the eurl's visit seemed to them a
matter OF the very smallest Importance.
Wandering under the trees, pulling ripe
berries. or idly gathering some flower
fairer than all its 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
walking down the main avenue to-
gether.
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
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
4. n Il L.