A Pure Heart's Dream of Love

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 221, 24 September 1887, Page 1

A Pure Heart's Dream of Love

Let mo say a word or two about that country church, for circumstances connected with it had a strange influence on my future life. It was a plain, unpretending building without ornament, inside or outside — standing in its graveyard, where the grass always looked fresh and green. The walls were whitewa&hed, -within and without, and no graceful carving met the eye at any point. The pews were all in a line, so narrow as to contain only one form, which could accommodate about five persons. The vicar, Mr Home, often h ad pupils living in his house. These young gentlemen worenearlyalways of respectable families, butone youth particularly struck my lancy ; ins air was noble, his face beautiful as an ideal vision ; his eyes soft, meditative, charming. I am certain that this boy never once noticed myself at the little church of Weston Cricket, but his presence there, Sunday after Sunday, was fraught to me with interest, an interest, too, wholly unconnected with any idea of self. I never dreamed of speaking to the object of my adoration ; to think of him was enough. I invested him with marvellous attiibutes, and felt convinced that he would no more think of cheating Mr Home about his lessons, or of robbing an orchard, than lie would dream of flying. 1 think I see that rural little church as it appeared to me in those days. Mr Home, with his placid face and simple manner, preaching the sermon -which I fear I never listened to ; Mrs Homo sitting at the head of her pew, wearing tho unfailing large black bonnet and unpretending cloak which she had worn for years ; and then my beautiful youth, looking so distinct among his companions, so unmistakably of gentle blood. I regarded him as one might regard a work of art ; he was a poetic passage to me, a glimpse into a higher sphere. Upon one memorable occasion I dropped my Prayer-book when going out of church. My hero passed by at the time, and, though walking with a friend, he stopped and picked it up ; but ah, dear reader, he did not give it to myself— he handed it with a sweet smile and a gracofullitblcbow to mamma. Thcaction charmed me, and it had also an effect upon my mother. When she returned home she mentioned the occurrence to papa, observing that Mr Home had got a very handsome, gentlemanly pupil. " Yes," said papa, ' ' I know the lad you mean ; his name is Gore — Curzon Gore. He is of a very good family. His mother was a daughter of Lord Lugmoro."' Toothing morn remarkable was said then, but ,2had learnen enough. My charming youth was well-bore, and his name was Curzon Gore. . Wheat he was about sixteen he left the vicaragey to pursue his studies elsewhere. Whadblank there was to me then. When he was gone I thought of him more than ever, but never in sorrow. I had not the presumtion to fret about his departure ; but when I read a poem that carried me away beyond earth, or sat in summer evenings in the green wjurm fields, with tho lazy hum of | insects in my ear, my thoughts nearly always turned to the memory of that dreamylooking youth who seemed the embodiment , of a beautiful idea. — Myself and My Eela1 lives.