HAWTHORNDEAN.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume IV, Issue 182, 22 September 1876, Page 6

HAWTHORNDEAN.

-f. fr _ CHAPTER XVIII. KEMINISCENCES." DuitlXG the Christmas holidays, when Kosine had nearly given up hope that she might renew her acquaintance with Miss Greenwood, ' there came a voto, wondering if Kosine had entirely forgotten her, accompanied with a pretty souvenir in the shape of a henUier, beautifully carved in Parian marble, representing an angel holding the font, on one side of which a grape-vine trailed its fruits and leaves ; while on the other, beards of wheat were carved in delicate tracery. The note urged in warm tones llosine's promise that 6he would make an effort to come to the Commodore's house for the sake of her friend. Dr. Hartland pressed upon his father the propriety of making the first call Avith Hosine, « Inch was forthwith accomplished, and matters were put on such a fiiendly footing, that the omnibus which passed the Favy Yard stopped quite often, to drop or take up our young friend, on her visits to Miss Greenwood" The Colonel, who was somewhat old-fashioned in his notions, questioned once or twice the propriety of so young a miss taking so long a drive alono in an omnibus ; but the Doctor reminded him that l-ime3 and customs had changed since he was young, and women were considered quite competent to traverse the round globe without other protection than their own innocence, and it was well for Rosa to take her first lesson of " the rough and tumble " in a route of six miles ov so, in an omnibus by broad daylight. These meetings were a source of much pleasure, as well as profit, to Eosinc. She found herself always welcomed, pressed to btay, urged to come again, but her visits were never returned. She Baw no one in her calls but her friend, the grandfather having been taken to his rest, and the Commodore never

appearing. Miss Dora's parlor, to which she soon found her way without a servant, overlooked on one side the Nary Yard with its groups of tasteful buildings, the parade ground, and the busy life of the shipbuilders. The sunny side of the room hung as it were over the ocean ; and the neighboring city, with the constantly passing and repassing white-sailed ships and majestic steam vessels, was in full view. r lhe interior was suggestive of comfort, but not of luxury ; though taste and refinement were visible everywhere, they were displayed at small expense. A. deep alcove, well stored with books, occupied the side of the room between two doors leading tolMlier apartments, which Eosine had never entered. The windows|rWere filled with choice exotics, and the sunlight streamed in during the winter's day. This with the well filled and well ignited grate, gave the apartment », cosy, homelike look, which won Eosine' s admiration always. An unexpected holiday occurring in midwinter' she remembered her promise to her friend for a whole day, and eager for the pleasure, sne forgot to consult the time, till she was safely deposited by the faithful 'bus at the gate of the Navy Yard. A. sight of the large church clock not far off, made her pause and ask herself if it would be an intrusion to have come so early, but it was too late for that consideration, and she made her way, as usual, to the pleasant parlor. Bosine entered after her light tap, but found no one within ; though the door to one of the inner rooms was ajar, and she was startled by the sound of sobs and bitter weeping coming from within ; at a loss what to do, her instinctive delicacy led her to take a position at the farthest window and gaze intently across the waters. The sounds continued many minutes, mingled with faint ejaculations, as if of prayer ; presently all was quiet, and after a moment, Dora came forth, evidently not expecting to meet any one, the tears still on her cheek. A faint flush overspread her features as her young friend came forward to greet her, and as she clasped her in her arms, Rosine could feel the quick throbbing of her heart. "My sweet child," she said, " I am glad of your happy face today. I have been at my prayers ; it is the golden hour, as the Italians call it, but I see I have lengthened it," she added, looking at her watch. Eosine apologized for her early appearance, with a glance toward the half-open door through which Miss Greenwood had come. " Ah, my sweet confidant, I will show you what is very sacred to me," said Dora, and taking her hand, she Jed the way towards the oratory. The tiny room was oval in form, lighted by a dome of diamond panes colored with dark rich shades ; in the very apex of the dome was a dove with spread wings pictured in the glass. The floor was inlaid with wood of different colors and shape, forming figures and anagrams ; at the end of the room opposite the door was a large marble crucifix, on a broad pedestal of the same mateiial. Against the wall above the cross hung a Madonna and child, a very ancient painting, evidently by the hand of a master. The stations of the cross were represented around the deep blue walls in fourteen cameolike pictures. Eosine km It with her friend as she entered this place made sacred by prayers and tears ; no word was spoken as they paused before each representation. When they returned to the parlor a heavy sigh escaped the young girl's lips. " I have made you sigh," said her friend, kissing her, and drawing her towards a couch opposite the windows looking down the bay. "It is but right I should tell you why you find me so sad. To-day is my lost brother's birthday, and I cannot forget him, especially there," ahe added, pointing to the oratory. " I mean to talk with you of him, if it will not pain you." " O, thank you," said Eosine, slipping her hand into her friend's ; " I should love to hear more of him ; the Doctor once spoke of him in the most affectionate terms, but I never dared to ask any more than ho chose to tell." "Ah, yes," replied Dora, "Edward Hartland could speak of him from the heart as I can, for he loved him well." She paused a moment to recover herself from the agitation some memory had produced. " You have found me, Rosa," she resumed, " when the old grief is aggravated by a new ; this must be my apology for my want of self-control. My brother Harry's ship is in the offing ; we expect him soon, perhaps to-day. You have heard of his resignation ; my father is incensed against him, and against me also, because I cannot think he has done otherwise than nobly, to renounce all wordly advancement for the right. You do not know what it is to have knojgi duty clash with parental commands ; Gk>d, in mercy, spare you tflft trial. Harry returns true, noble-hearted boy, to a home where be is unwelcome, and to companions who will throw cowardice in his teeth, because he will have nothing to do with this unjustifiable movement towards Mexico. If his resignation is accepted, he stands at the age of twenty-three without a profession and almost without means, ex- | cept what firm health and a stout heart give him. But he will only grieve to have brought upon himself the continual frown of his father ; upbraiding will be dreadful to one of his affectionate home-loving i nature. I don,t know why it is," she continued, turning her face to I Eosine, " but somehow, though you are many years younger than I, i it is good to speak to you of what I mention to one else ; and I can talk to you of Earnest and my early days. Since our first meeting at | the beach, before I knew who you were, I had this same wonderful I heart-drawing towards you, like an elder sister's confiding love." ] Eosine pressed the hand she heH in hers, she could not 6peak, , but she looked with her tearful eyes into the face of her friend, with a look that told at once how fully she reciprocated her warm affection. | "Dear Rosita, I wish you to know that I did not always live as 1 jdo now. My childhood's home, for which I sometimes have such a longing as I cannot describe, was in a lovely country town, among the ' birds and bees, and I was gay and happy as they. My father's pay as ' Lieutenant was small, and his long absences left my mother to manage the affairs of the family as she chose. Colonel Hartland's sons Avcre at school in the town where we lived for some years, and boarded with I us ; I may say wo grew up together. It was then and there the I friendship, the like of which I have never seen, was formed between Imy brother Earnest and Edward Hartland. They were perfectly in-

separable, nnd shared each other's every feeling. In their case is the only proof I liave ever Been", that the love that vre are told existed between David and Jonathan is still possible. At the age of sixteen my father insisted, as he had many times before threatened, that Earnest should join the navy ; but my brother was determined on college-life with Edward Hartland j they both abhorred the service in either army or navy. He was a resolute, daring boy ; I wonder at his daring, as he stood before his father, perfectly respectful, "but determined ; no threats of punishment could induce him to swerve from his purpose, and my father turned him adrift into the world ; but his friend and he clung together, and shared every thing. Colonel Hartland "was verytofnorous to his son, and, by great economy and self-denial, they madAyhat was meant for one provide for two. I have known them botlrgo out and teach school for three months, to assist Earnest in getting on with his classes. " About this time my poor mother was taken from us, and. I was left, at the age of eighteen, with the care of Harry and the house, my father being no more at home than formerly ; you will guess that all I could spare went to aid Earnest in his studies. Matters went on in this way, till Harry was placed at the naval school sorely against his will ; he was as resolute as Earnest, but he had an instinctive, I think I may say a religious, dread of braving a parent's displeasure. I(- was my father's secret hope that before Earnest could complete his college course he would be obliged to come to him for help ; here he was disappointed. Angry with the whole Hartland family, he hnd a special aversion to Edward. He returned from the Pacific seas after au absence of more than two years ; it was the autumn of the graduation of Dr. Hartland and my brother. He found the affairs of the family in such a state — ." Miss Greenwood here faltered in her recital, grew extremely pale, and Eosine perceived her trembling. " Ah, that was a dreadful time," she said at length j " the memory of it is like a withering blast ; it was as if the hot breath of a furnace should pass over these japonicas and roses," pointing to the window, " andcbiume them in a single moment of time to dry and withered sticks. Our beautiful country home was broken up, my brother was ordered to choose between his own kindred and his friend ; he made his choice, and was forever separate from his family. I had the same choice to make, Rosa," she said, tightly clasping the hand she held, " and my conscience would not let me give up my father, and — )es, the good God has shown me I was right, for through grief and sorrow I learned the way of the Cross, which I had never been taught ; but lam wearying you with these memories," she added, as fiosine laid her brad upon her shoulder and hid her face. "Go on, please," she replied in a voice almost inaudible from emotion, " you must let me weep with you." "Thank you, darling," continued Dora, " I am afraid I am selfish, but it is a sweet solace to speak to you of these things, and the knowledge of them will lead you to know Dr. Hartland better ; but the saddest, saddest tale is yet to tell. The young men finished their professions with high honors. Earnest did not appear to mourn continually for his friends, as I did, but when we met (as we did occaeionally by stealth) he could speak but little, only pressing me to his heart, a^d begging me to do as he had done, pleading for others as well as himself. Colonel Hurtland proposed to the young men a voyage to Europe, to recruit his son's health, which was impaired, and a sojourn in Paris for a while as a help to their profession. My father would neither take leave of Earnest, nor suffer me to have one parting word, and O ! it was the last time ; we had never been wholly separate till I felt the awful sea between us. I cannot tell you of that voyage," she continued, checking the sobs that would have entirely overcome one of less resolute nature, " the papers were full of it at the time — the brave, the good, the great, the abandoned, and the dissolute, went down into one common grave, and three only of the hundreds that crowded that ill-fated steamer, remained to tell what they had seen. Edward Hartland was one of the three, and from him no one has been able to learn the most minute particular. It was long before ho reached home, and longer yet before he took his place again among men. My grief at that time was, thnt my poor longing eyes would never look again upon my beloved brother ; but now there is a deeper grief. I mourn for his soul — so uncared for, unwashed, uncleansed. Can it be, that God will forever banish from His presence one so untaught in truth ? O, my child, it is for this I weep and pray, if perchance there may be hope even now."