HAWTHORNDEAN. CHAPTER XXXII.

New Zealand Tablet, 2 March 1877, Page 3

HAWTHORNDEAN. CHAPTER XXXII.

FINAL E.

" Ye*," replied Mr. Greenwood, " no brigade has seen more constant, active, honorable service than this, and the Heads of the De» partment make special mention of General Leighton aud Colonel Benton. I suppose Harold will be ready to marry now." " Yes, Dora dear." interrupeed the Doctor, " yon will have a real fighting Colonel all to yourself for awhile, who will play croquet with you all day long." "O, that will be much nicer than ' old Uncle Ned !' " cried th« child giving his hair a smart pull as he pinched her blooming cheek. " But he's going to bo married," he retorted, •« and will care no more for you."

" Dora knows better than that," said the mother. " Uncla Harold's heart is a large one ; but did you know, Ned. the marring* may be here ? Father Nelson lias been ordered by his physicians, at well as his superiors, to try a change of climate, and he is to bring hi» sister with him. His health is much broken, and papa hopes to per* suade him to rest here this winter, aud we all think perhaps you may be able to help him." Dr. Hartland shook his head. "No hopa for a Catholic prieit,' he said, "if lie once begins to run down, for they will not stop work. I have had several on my haad? — never succeeded in saving one " There was a grave pause for a moment, when Mr. Greenwood re» marked: " Then we may really have a wedding in our midst before we think of it. I'm sure the young couple have waited patiently for this r cruel war ' to be over."

" A double wedding, possibly !" said the Doctor, Bhrugging hii shoulders, and elevating his e,\ebrows as of old, when the lady in black approached the verandah with her companion. " What, a>e you going to be married, Uncle?" inquired the play, ful, teazing child, who still held her position on his knee. " No, darling," he replied ; "I'm waiting for you, so make hasto and grow up." " Indeed !" she said pertly, drawing herself up ; "I guess it isn't right to marry uncles. I heard Father .Roberts say cousins mustn't marry."

" Little pitchers !" whispered the Doctor, in quite too serioua & tone ; for the small miss jumped from her seat with a great frown on her face, and ran to meet her Aunt Marion. There was aye y sweet, subdued f-tce under ihat w.dow's cap ; ten years of heavy or >ss-bear-ing had graven their lines on her ch<ek ; she was still the elegant, graceful Mrs. Stapleton, with money a id servants at commaud, but ia the early stamping out of her earthly ambition by the heel of shame and sorrow, like those plants that give out sweetest odors when ciushed, her better nature had revived, and she had learned fchrougli much tribulation, that there are nobler ends in life than the applause or envy of the world ; in training her little Lily came many a lesson to her own aching heart, and in teaching her infant lips to pray, she had learned the use of thi*, the human soul* most powerful weapon. Pust suffering was written on her brow, bub more plainly was it written in her warm sympathy for suffering in others. She had mado many dear Iriends, but like all true bouls, the earliest was the best loved. A week at H .wthorndean with her daughter, who in spite of Dr. Hartlaud's prophecy of early death, had grown into a quiet, lovely young woman, brought to Marion more of happines9 tnan years of style and splendor in the city. Mr. Stapleton had died after a lingering illness, leaving in his will a derelopnvnt of his meanness which he had never displayed during his life. The widow who had so faithfully tended his days and nights of terror, and wasted her bloom in efforts to chase away the phantoms that surrounded him, was left the recipient of all his wealth with this restriction, she was always to remain his widow ; failing this, his riches were placed in trust for his child. Such things are ; but if any man wishes his name branded with odium, let him go and do likewise. Marion had now been a widow fire years, and though the sadness of disappointed hope was iudelible on her countenance, she moved with a f i eer air, and was more like her former self in cheerfulness, than Ro-ine had thought was possible. Aleck Hartland did nob come to the piazza withjthe others of tlis croquet party, but lingered among the wickets, talking with a small boy who was evidently demanding something for the letter which he held. At length the conference ended, and Captain Hartland ca>no forward, with the missive between his fingers, held aloft above his head. " A telegra-u !" he cried, "Harold will be here to-night wi>h his friend."

"Who can he be?" innocently inquired Rosine, turning to her husband. A. glance between the Doctor and Harry just then struck her as peculiar, and Aleck looked at her keenly, with his finger on his lip. '' What can they mean?" she thought. Her question seemed for a moment to damp the whole company, save Laura and Marion; they mused away together, in • sof b drony voices, app irently uninterested, or unnoticing the thought that had sealed the mouths of the rest of the company. At length Mrs. Stapletmi seemed to awaken to a new impression. "Did jou say Harold comes to-night, and Philomena and Father Nelson next week ? Then I suppose comes thu wedding. I wish I might stay, but it is time Lily was at her books agrin." " Marion, my child i" spoke the clear, full vo.ce of Philip Ben« ton, who joined tue group, " You keep Lily too closely to her studies ; a month longer out of school will be a biessing io tier ; you know her cough is not gone — you must be careful of our delicate casket." The fair young creature rested her head on his breast, and whis« pered, '• Deai Cr.andjjapa." " Besides," added Mrs. Benton, mildly, \et decidedly, " you know, Marion, that Mina has the promije of Lily and L-adora for bridesmaids."

Harold did not come that night ; weary eyes kept vigil till near dawn, but there vrat no arrival. About sunrise next morning, two

gentlemen on foot came brushing through the woods that skirted the Hawthorne estate ; the family had Bunk into that heavy slumber which succeeds watching, save Marion; her years of restless life had made her a light sleeper, and she had gone forth for the c «rly morning air. She waß in the garden, gathering the few lili<-s and asters which the frost had spared for her mother's oratory; she was stooping over a Neapolitan violet, to find the hidden prize which betrayed itself by its precious perfume, when a soldier knelt by her side, his arms about her neck " Why, Harold, how you frightened me ! Did you drop from the •lies, or come up from a lower sphere ?" she exclaimed, raiding herself and adjusting the cuils which bad been loosened from their hiding place by his embrace"Well, I oime from New York last, and they ?ay that isn't far from the lower sphere ; but here ia my friend, I came near forgetting him — General Leighton." He darted off, as he pronounced the name, leaving Mai ion transfixed with astonishment; some spell rooted her to the ground, she neither raised her «>es, nor spoke, but let the flowers she had gathered drop from her fingers. r * Allow me," said the General, in a low, well remembered tone, stooping for her fallen treasures, and seeing her utter want of selfpossession ;so different from the old self-a-aured way. It would not have been possible for Marion to have reached the house at that moment ; all fortitude had forsaken her, all the prowess and heroiim that had dared for so many years phantoms and appariiions, quailed before this presence that had burst upon her like a thunderbolt. Most heartily ashamed of herself for this exhibition of cowardice, she would gladly have hidden where no eye could look upon her shame. But the true heart near her, saw through all ; he had borne the most bitter wrong from her, and never transferred the love he had given to any other. Once in years long passd, he had been .-oiely tempted ; not one would have blamed him had he yielded, but he put aside the thought and remained faitlful to his early spoken vows. Honor he had won ; both civil and military honors had bten heaped upon him ; reputation, but not wealth. He had often heard through others of M-.rion's bitter life-draught ; and on the eve of his first battle he beard from a brother officer of hef release from the dreadful slavery of an unloving, and unloved wife; then he had made his own resolve, that if the end of the warfare found him living, his first thought should be for her. It was in that morning r< contra, nmong the tiick j falling leaves and desolate remnants of the flower garden, th.it Marion j learned the depth of the wrong she had done Hor >tio Leighton ; and it was there she gave up wealth and all that riches can purchase, f r one loving heart. I Thus came the fulfilment of Edward Hartland's prophecy ; for at J the Festival of All Saints, Father Nelson, with the per i ission of the j parish priest, administered the sacrament of m irriage to four of his 11 dear children," as he called them. This wus his last official act ; his untiring efforts for the flock over which the G>od >hepherd had ' placed him, with his life of penance and fasting, had worn out a fr.ime ' not the most robust. He had not strength to return to die at his post, as he ha-i intended, after caring for his fister. On Christmas | morning, as the children in the far west, whom he had gathered into ' the Assoc ation of the Holy Childhood, were chanting theca'olshe had taught them, he fell asli ep in Jesus ; resting in the arms of his long-tiied constant friend, Philip Bentou. [Concluded.]