CHAPTER XXXII.
FINALE. The sun rose brightly on the second day of October, the Feast of the Holy Guardian Angels, shining through the purple haze of autumn, and tinting with rosy fingers the scattering clouds of vapor that lingered near the horizon. The high Altar in the Church of Our Lady of Angels was decorated with rare and beautiful flowers. The usual hour of the morning Sacrifice had been a little delayed for the administering of another Sacrament. Harry Greenwood and his bride knelfc in devotion before that altar, offering to God the vows they were there to make ; while Captain Hartland and his restored wife bent the knee with the bridal party, and as the priest, receiving the ring from the bridegroom, placed it upon the proper finger of the bride, Aleck Hartland, unseen, slipped the bright circle he had so long worn with a heavy heart, upon the finger of his wife, now nearer and dearer to him than ever. Mass for a newly-married pair was celebrated, Harry and Rosine still worshipping at that altar, where they together received the Living Bread, while at the conclusion of the services, Father Roberts pronounced the .solemn nuptial benediction. It was a peaceful, holy scene, where the purest joys of earth mingled with the treasured hopes of heaven, not a jarring thought, not a passing shadow even on those young hearts, here pledged to each other, and together to their dear present Lord, for all time and eternity. Marion had contrived to steal from her princely home with the little Lily, to witness a ceremony that recalled to her only weary, heart-saddening memories. Mr Bdnton could not be persuaded to come to town for even this occasion ; but the mother was with her beloved daughter. Colonel Hartland gave awoy the bride, the little Philomena, now a fine grown girl, standing as brides-maid, while Harold hid come all the way from St. Louis, as ho asserbeA agiin and again, solely to do his duty as " best man." That was a charming bridal party as they took the cars for dear Hawthorndean, not one missing, and only one with the old heart-ache clinging to her — the drooping Marion ; the li^ht-hearted, out-spoken joy, contrasted with her own desolate well-remambereA bridal, followed by no nuptial benediction. Harold brought news, which he told privately to his mother, of the reported engagement of Horatio Leighton with so.ne grand lady in Washington. "O, Marion ! what did she want with that old fool?" he inquired contemptuously, as he ende I his communication. "Hush, my boy," said his mother, laying'her han I reprovingly on his lips ; " he is your brother." Dr. Hartland and his father had had quite a little friendly quarrel about giving the bride away, Ned declaring that it was his right, but here the Colonel was positive, so the soa was obliged to submit. " I haven't given you away, Rosa," he said, as the wearied party reached the lovely home at Hawthorndean, " and to-morrow I want you for Paradise, Sunny Nook and Purgatory. Shall I have to ask his permission ? " he added, looking quizz'cally at the bridegroom. '•Never," sr.id Harry, smilinj, "she is just as truly your 3, only I may sometimes break in on your tC-le a tele." '•You mean to keep that right, ha; Well, we'll circu.nvent him, wont we, Rosa? What does he know of the lovely places about Hawthorndean ? " It was suggested by the Doctor next day in that ramble, which 1 perhaps it is unnecessary to siy was not made without Harry, thifc Eosa could not possibly be spared to set up a separate establish- ' uient ; what were two lone men like his father and himself to do ? At- first the husband's resolution was quite fixfd, that it was only 1 right and proper that they should make a home for themselves ; but his persistence was shaken by the earnestness and war .nth of the Doctor and Rosa ? "It would be so nicp, Harry, to have th? dear Colonel and Ned at our table ; " and at last he g.ive his consent to the pleading look of those brown eyes, and the touch of that little hand as it lay in his, to laave things as they were at present ; to give up the rooms he had proposed to take till they could get a house, and suffer Rosine still to be the head of the Colonel's family. Colonel Haitland had provided very generously for his beloved daughter, but to keep her in his house ! — how he longed for it, but I his delicacy had forbidden him to make the request. When he heard of the decision made under the sweet skies of Sunny Nook, he was like a boy again, thanking H irry with so much emotion an I simplicity, that the young man almost blame J his own heart for the •wish to have her all to himself. Dr. Hartland could not as yet be quite cordial in his mann3i* to Laura, there was for some time a restraint between them; cold, 1 formal politeness on his part ; but at length, the quiet, shrinking course which she maintained, wore its way even into his obdurate hearr. As for the restored wife, she knew no pleasure now but Aleck's wishes, and the tiny cottage below the lawn was a hoin^ of sweet content, made sweeter by grateful loving hearts, that had both drank deeply of the bitter cup of sorrow. The young growing parish at H iwthorndean, with its increasing numbers, afforded a field for L tura's energies, so freely employed at the Home of the Orphans, and the poor and the sick, thj destitute and forsaken, found in her a friend and helper, — and she had the pleasure in time of marking a growing- interest in the3e things in her husband's heart. Willie, the dear blind boy, was at
first a little grieved and sensitive about Mrs. Hartland coming as she did between him and the dearest love and fondest care of the Captain, but Laura's affectionate nature soon won the boy to herself, and in the end he came back to his own little room in the cottage, and was quite as much at home there as at his grandfather's. Philomena Nelson, or " Mina," as she was called, had beerfnis playmate, but she was now gone back to her brother; much to the regret of Laura, who, though older (now her heart was at rest), was no graver than the sedate little girl, and they had become the fondest of friends. Dear, patient reader, you who have kindly travelled through so many years with me, shall I impair the romance of this story, founded on unquestionable fact, by bringing down my living heroes and heroines to this gracious year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-five ? or shall I leave the remainder of their lives to your fertile imagination? Preferring the latter, you can here close the book, leaving these few last pages for the prosaic eyes of your Uncles and Aunts. Dear Hawt 1 orndean ! lovely, unsurpassed as ever, with thy verdant hill-tops crowned with the rich and varied hues of autumn tide ! Time, the great innovator, has wonderfully spared the beauties of this lovely region. The village has not developed into a. country town, the same undisturbed quiet, lanes open their stores of beauty to the eye and to the heart of the seeker. The mighty steam-power has not dared to invade these hills, but ah, in the distant valley, ay, in the very shadow of " Paradise and " Purgatory," the fire-horse darts through the embowered beauties of " Sunny Nook ; " ' friendly hands sought to save from desecration this well-beloved spot, but railroad corporations have no souls. Hawthorndean boasts now an hotel, all the business of the region crowding toward the valleys, consequently the multitudes of summer strangers from the cities, who import into our plain country homes tteir artificial town customs, and laugh at our rural habits, are just beginning to find out our snug quarters. But our j early friends from the city, linked by ties of blood and friendship [ with the Hawthorne estate, have never forsaken lovely Hawthorndean. In the old mansion, Philip Benton and his wife, in " gentle life's descent," wait hand in hand their summons ; full of peace and calm joy, their last days their happiest. Our kind-hearted ' Colonel, on the retired list of his country's servants, passes his I time between his two homes, equally at head-quarters in town or country. In the year of our Lord above named, on such a morning in "yellow clad autumn," our Rosine stood where she stood one well- | remembered June day long ago, when she pointed out to Mr. i Greenwood, for the first time, the beauties of that spot. Har.y it j by her side; they are many years older, but the fresh, kindly look ! that never grows old, shines from both their faces; his bearing | expresses always that same deferential admiration of his wife, j which says so plainly, '• The heart of her husband trusteth in her. " They are prolonging the vacation from their busy town life for their children's sake ; they are now watching a party on the lawn, earnestly engaged in a game of croquet. 1 speak advisedly when I say " earnestly," for persons never in earnest elsewhere ''are j aroused to energy here. Beyond tho band of players, two ladies of ! mature age are also watching intently the nearly completed ga-me. j Down go the mallets at length, the winning party running to the veranda. A blooming young girl was the first to reach the destination, and bring the news. " There, mamma," exclaims the little i Hebe, addressing Rosine, " Uncle Ned and I beat Uncle Aleck and i Cousin Lily." | " Yes, Isa, we did it handsomely. Come, sit on my knee ; j chairs seem to be a scarce article in these quarters." j At once we are carried back to the voice and manner of our old I friend, Dr. Hartland, now considerably past middle age, but as J erect in his carriage, and curt in his speech as erst. , " I wont come if you call me Is — sy," replied the pouting young damsel, drawling out the name. "Well, Dora then; Isadora, my beloved, will you condescend I to rest yourself in these arms ? " j Then began a tustle, and the bird was at length captured by ' the all-conquering Doctor ; evidently very glad was the Miss of her seat on his knee. "Has anybody told you the news, Harry ? " he said, when the little lady had fixed herself to her mind ; turning to the father and mother who watched with delight the fond friendship ripening each day between dear old Ned and their first-born darling. " I saw by the ' Times ' last week (I don't suppose you read newspapers in this hermitage) that Leighton's brigade, which includes Harold's regiment, were all ordered to report in New York to be mustered out; a very sensible arrangement in the Department, as most of the soldiers belong west ot the Mississippi. Father is as pleased with the uncommon praise they shower on this brigade as if his own son were the commanding officer."
The memory of Andrew Johnson still survives in Tennessee. A»sentleman writing from Greenville, the former home of the exiAsident, says: — "The veritable tailor's shop is standing, and may be seen by any visitor. Mine host worked with Andy on the bench. Mr. Johnson's old home, a plain and simple structure bearing the impress ot time, is on a retired street. The house in which Mr. Johnson lived when he first came to Tennessee is a small onestory frump, twelve by fourteen feet, two doors and one window. His tailor's shop was much the same kind of a structure, with a plain board sign, without border, two and a-half feet long and eighteen inches wide, blackish base, with yellowish-red letters, •A. Johnson, Tailor/ The house in which he last lived is a very plain but neat two-story, with a two-story wing running from one. end. His son low occupies the home. Crape hangs on the doorknob yet."
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New Zealand Tablet, Volume IV, Issue 203, 23 February 1877, Page 3
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2,025CHAPTER XXXII. New Zealand Tablet, Volume IV, Issue 203, 23 February 1877, Page 3
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