DREAMS

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 32, 11 August 1904, Page 23

DREAMS

• Before half the voyage between Qlueesistown anti New YorK was over, the Man of Experieace ha^cl decided to his own satisfaction whose was tiie mobt interesting personality in all the mixed assembly that foi'injed his fellow-passengers

That he was a youngish man may be inferred from the fact that he narrowed the sphere of his observations to the womankind on board.

There were many indeed that would seem to be fascinating studies, women who were beautiful and brilliant, witty ajid wealthy, but the ' most interesting ; waa none of these.

She was generally alone, unless whein the Man of Experience joined! hex,- 1 looking «>head in the direutipn, the ship was going, with a most eagex intensity im 1 her ga#e,, as if she would fain urge tine swift vessel «to g,o faster still. She was a small, slight figure, quite unnoticeable indeed,, unless one chanced to cat<:h a flash frpm, 1 the magnificent dark eyes under the long black laajifis>. Then one noticed the contrast between the duskiness of her eyes and the straight black brows, and the pale goldi of tjhe hair which siie wore coiled tow* on her shapely little head. -It was tfliose eyes x>f hers that first attracted the man's attention. So full of fire were they, and' of eager questionings ; yet, deeper than • the fire and eagerness, there lay the absorbed look of one who dreamt dreams in a land that was more real to her than the world she livQd in. And her dreams seemed, to he happy ones to the man who was watching her. He siaw that she was living in Anticipation of aj happiness surpassing great, absolutely headless of the present, rapt up entirely in what the future was 1 to hjold. And knowing-— he was sorry for her. B(ut, guess as he might, what 1 lay behind tfros-e b/uming eyes anjd tensd white face, it remained an umsolved problem to. him. They had, ndeed, struck up an odd kind of friens&hip. He knew that her name was Kate Moore,, that she had been twelve years in America, and that now she was going home, to lisvo in KerryBut t,o his mind these bald facts were not enough to accotunt for the look in her eyes. Her .very candor puz,zled him.

On the evening they; first sighted the Irisßi ' coast they were leaning over the ship's side together, and he said : ' I am always wondering what yo)u are thinking of that brings such a light on yaur face *! *

1 Why, of home, of course,' she answered simply. ' Just think, for twelve long years I have been longing for it, dreaming of it night and day, and now at last there is my heart's desire coming nearer and nearer every miruute, and she pointed to where the soft blue at the horizon was forming itself into the blue hills of Ireland.

' I almost think I can. smell the turf smoke anfl the sweet furze blossoms, and the salt wind that creeps up intfc* our" little valley at nightfall,' she went on, as if to her/self, throwing back her head in a very ecstacy of anticipation.

And looking at her sparkling eyes atfd flushed cheeks the Man of Experience gave his warning wit|h harsh •deliberation.

' Well, now ! ' he) said, ' don't you think it ' very risky to stake all your hopes of happiness cm one ■bhxow. like that ? 'After all, a long-dherisd'.ed memory changes character almost imperceptibly, ajnid it may be th£*t the reality will be very unlike what you hawe been pict/uring to yourself all that time; them, there will be only a rude awakening for you out ,of your dream of years. Ydu know we can only keep our dreams by piutting spaces between them atid their realities,' She qruoted' softly. ' Ah ! yes, 1 she laughed, c but that really only applies to.-* persons ; don't you tihink so ?. It is only peaplej qhange, and I have no people to care about. My dlream is all about a hollow between tlhe hills and the sea, .where the blue smoke curls up from numbers of little white houses in the day, a,nd where towards night the small fishing boats slip out one by one into the darkness from the little landing-place in tlhe break* betweam the 'clifSs. A common pi ace dream enough, isn't it ? ' she added, growing saiddetoly shy of hex enth'u,siasm. ' Rut you see, it is of my home.'

1 It is a 1 pretty safe dream, as far as it gpes, anyhow,' he said, with a curious smile, adding spftly, 'God keep it so.' ; He never dould have understood all .that this homeaomitag meant to Kate, unless he knew the history of the proud old rate of which she was the last representative. A race that had numbered many bards and

scholars among its members ; aye, and men and women, too, of a high and noble courage, ever found ready in their places when the cry of battle rang thxqugh the land : a race that greatly loved their cou;nt|ry, and that had greatly suffered,, as tfciis is the lot imevitable of those that love much.

And this silight, dark-eyed woman had the grea f . brave heaxt of her warlike ancestors, a mind stored with noble thoughts aatd poetic fancies, and a passionate love for Ireland, especially for her dwn beautiful wild valley, fax back in Ivcxagh, looking out to where the Ko.ek of S'kelligs rises grey and shadowy out of the sea like another ' Island of Dreams.'

Twelve years before, she had left that Valley a lonely] little girl, without kith or kin, save what lay unider, the daisies in the graveyard, to face litfe In the big, bus^ country across the sea's. And. ever since she had. slaved through the years— she could haiidly be said to have lived them— with the one all-absorbmg idea before her, to earn enough money to go home to livq for ever in her belo.ved valley in Iveragh. She worked on through the feverish crowded days "in an immense city, giving, like many of her compatriots, the best that was in her— hex youth, her freshness, her charm— in the sftrjug/gie to atttain her heart's desire. Wjhile cvejr before her was the picture of the hills and the sea at home in Kcwry,. witlh the spires at Skelligs peeping o^er a bjelt of soft. white mist, and the bxo'kejn clouds scunxymg before the saa-wind oVer the hillK, till oftentimes a keen J^eartaohe came upon hex fox all the txiviul lifi^ilto things Uia!t' make life in a valley in -tthe, hills of Kexxy.

Ihis one-mUidefdnoss kept an atmosphere of aloofness roumd hex In that stxeriuo'us oVor-crowded community. Yet Lo.ve the Pilgrim came her way a few tiriiec,, and -begged admission int© the sanctuary of her hoart.; but sbc could not open tio him, her heart was quito f.'ull of her longing for home.

Now, at last, that longing was realised. Sihe was tack once more in Ireland with the money that meant so m}iich. Pity ! that go little should nwaai so much. It meant ycaa's of self-suppression arxd a nature starve»d ; it meant the hopes and dreams of a lonely g^rlhovCd anl womanhood.

B;u,t aU that was forgotten when s>3ie floomd herself tiajlcen into the hearts of the. kindly people of the Glen. Sometimes as she watched the brown-sailed boats of the Aiklow fishing-fleet moving slowly about the sun-lit bay, her quick eye would catch a glimpse of a loirg, tjrai'l of smoke far tout on tlhe h'tfrrzoia, the last trace of one of the big American liners ; and the sight of it gave her a pang as of ah old wound smarting, and sihe thanked God that America alnd all tiliiat it meant would never again be anything miore to hex than a pjapsins dark cloud on the hoiritfon of heir life.

Happiness the beautifier toudhod her with its magic vanjd in, th.at tgioTio'us spring-time. Her heart pulsed with, a new life and vigor, and tlhe reid tilde of youth came Hushing to her cheeks, enm seta ing hex lips, giving an added brilliancy to the bright eyes glowing under their dark fringe of lashes.

The veidiot of the Glen was that Kate Moore waa not at all like a ' returned Yank ' ;fre,sh as a daisy was she, not half-parched as too many of them come back. Besides, she was natural, amd so unaffectedly glad to be home again among the old people, passing no strictures, nor uncomplimentary remarks upon their backwardness, nor lauding the ways of the Westerners to their 'disparagement. Tr.uth to Icll, all the Glen was as a gloriiield vision to Kate ; no s,un ever shone like tihis ; no heather even was so delicately perfumed ; never fell rain sio silivery| stott ; never were clouds so softly grey as tjhose thaitl lifted slowly ,ofi the hifls she lo,ved ao well., Jt was all a pieco of her dream of years, and no whit of it all woluld e/he change. No, not for a king's ransom. Uto, those days she thought of what the Man of Experience; had said to her in warning. 'If only I could let hi.ni know what the awakening lias been,' sine said t 0 herself regretfully. For half-unwillingly his woi\ds had instilled a vague uneasiness hi her heart at the time.

But she was o<nly dreaming that she hiad wakened. The real awaken'ng was not yet, for her heart was still asleep. There arc sonic that never do awake, lujcky people that dream on to the ewd, whem they fall from) one sleep into' another that is deeper and longer. But Kate was not one of these.

■A day or two after her return, the gossip of the Glen met oiu Tade Dineen at the fair in Cahirciveen.

' Guess who 1 came home from America,' said she. " Who, now ? answered Tadc, without much show of i'nttircst. ' That little daughter of Da,ti Moore's*, God rest his soul ; and 'tis she has a power of money, they say. She'll 'be the good match )iow for a»iy likely boy' — this said in view of the well known fact that Tade Djneein was on the look-out for a well>-dowereid wife for his only child, Sh&meen.

The old man had much to reflect on in this bit of news. The Moores- were a line old stock, as nine as tnero was in this county or the next one to ft. Dan Mooire a;id he had bec*n old friendb , and tiic girl's mother,, sweet Kate U'llaia, the "belle of liallmablowne, had been dearer to him than a'uy friend, when they wore growing up boy and gul m neighboring farms. But all t^e wealth ;.he had was 1 in her henit and m the golden head of her , so, sensible man that he was, he married a, woman of many cows, leaving the gill ' he loved with \\hate\er love 'was m him to his friend Dan Moore. His wife, tlie nVother of Shameen, had been a good wife to him \et in his heart, ot hearts he oiicii felt a pajig of pam and remorse at his own sickly cowardice that let poverty stand between him and the woniian of his love— such as it was. He ne\ er knew whether, \\ he had spoken, she would ha\e taken him, there were memories of looks and voids that lay warm at his heart , but it is hard to know what a girl means.

There it lay, anyhow, a poor little half-formed romance at the back of his calculating old head, tor Tade was a hard man at a bargain

The gossip'?, mention of Kate Moore's name sent bacSc his memory to his eaily days ; at the same time he did not forget the hint that stfie had plenty of m.oney. Between, the farm and the fisJung, old Dineem was prosperous enough to be paiticular as to whom his sou .should marry. ' His son's wife should bring a h'dy sum of monov indeed. She should pay well for the fine position hhe would have as Shameeu's wile, f!ie best matpih in Balhnablowne, indeed, and tlie handsmuest yoiu,ng fellow in Kerry to be her husband, though 'tisn't praising our own wo ought to be '—this was tiie tiend of Ins thoughts.' Noi colleen in the place was well enough endowed to be Shameen's equal, s-o t*he father's thoughts turned o,n the girls returned from America with tiheir savings Now, he heard with particular joy of Kate Mooic's amval. The girl ouejlrt to he e\erythmg that was desirable if sihe took after her parents in aught — again his fancy winged batk to the faded httie romance of his } r outh. A\nd fm-all^ he felt r,)ute a glow ot selfcomplacency i*n the idea that in bringing about a marriage between Kate Moore and Shameen h» i-lioiild b^ cotifcUiding a kind y>f truce between senXimcnt ami what he called ' doing well and suitably by his son.' r l hat reminded him he had heard rumors that Shameen was \ery friendly with pretty Molly Brady up be\on'd the bog. Well, that was only the usual boy and g'nl affan, he told himself comfortably ; and, in any ca<-e, his son. was a gotjti lad, ai»d wouhd do what, m Ins elders' and betters' opinion, was best for him

lie himself had done the sensible thing long ago— and again his thoughts strayed tar away Irom Shameen and his attains to his own boyhood's /ears, when liie streiy-hcd before him, an endless \ista of sunhgiit da\ s throljgh which he and sweet Kate O'llata wPic'to vsalk hasmd in hand, lo\eis for o\er. A\e, but all tro soon the chink of money had wakened him out of his dream, for the ring of the coins was sweeter to him than hei low sweet \oitc, and the gleam of tlie metal stirred him more than the sunlight on her hair. Still, one must regret one's dreams ' That brought him Kick to his point again, that if Kate Moore were anything like her motlier, his son should find no dimauMv in liking; her well enough to ask her in marriage Kate's acquiescence he took for granted. And he happened to be right. Shameen had no difficulty in securing Kate's lave, only he ne\er so much as guessed at tiic immeasurable height and dtfpth of what he wen sh easily. Tall 1 and straight was he as a young pine , witii a head of clustering yellow curls ; eyes Muc-gfc-een li^e the sea, with a smile ever hovering m tiheir dcptJis ; and a ringing laugh eKer ready on his lips Sh,amcen of the sMunyi head and heart and the silver tfiiroat — whose voice charmed the oars of those who listened as he sent it linging in some fne old Oaehc srng over the quiet fields at eventide, whe-n he returned home after his day's work, or over the lnisihed sea aX the boats went 1 out at twilight for the labors of the night— smiall wonder till at Xa I c's hungry heart went out to him as her idol, her all First in every game, best at the so>ng and danoc, and withal so carelessly simple and ponerous, he w r as the farorite and the pride of BalluiablowTne.

To Kate ho was the spirit incarnate of her dream of home. Strong anrt resfTul was he, accepting life ga>ily with a song and a laugh for every emergency ; joyously careldss ; so altogiefher unlike the striding and feverish unrest she frad known iti the meji who had offered her love before.

She wa", as it were, floating along on a river of dreams, -with Shameem's bright face ever before her, and his clear in her ears, lulling her to rest securely on his strong true love.

P\s gld SiobbC<l herbelf i 0 slee P cxecynifiht fSo? ii C Krcy daWtl " lth fireat Wack circles under the winsome blue eyes-all because ot her . n 1°?, Shainwn antl Aiol! y »ad been close friends ever srhfol VI *T dy , ll °K eth « the white-washed i Ol i 'VIWV 1W lhu bl r h °y the tiny colleon safe homo to hei mother nvery waning. And when both oto . grown up, and Shameen would be cutting turf at punplc path k) the little cabin wheie Molly was mother and all t» o the |.m« that were younger. A short n i\i t ?l? l a SiUaUu ot S()l 'K would bum; Uie busy nriot .?t <e^", 01lt - antl f«r a brief space she would iorget all the potty cares and worries ot her daily hieand it seemed to her that men the old bog-road so" ckiliy brown doiring every other hour of the twenty-four mci ,l, l r a w^ lin l° XhC » Klory Of lhe ™n-*h« Shamecn trod it beside her, whispering words into her ear that no woman couM e\er forget. They suited each other in evoty way, those two n C ?H Pw an T tAhclr st °P s coincided exactly; and none danced hike her so gracelully and so lightly nor Shamem 7 ° UP aS Sh ° d ' d wllL le ag^e

nH Fl s\V'; hOT . h . e J irt wa u s Wlln Me care of her father ShLneen. chlldren ' the had K»m and to spare for She knew the inexorable law of marriage as understood in me country places of Ireland^mWy, must marry money, though hearts might break. She was far too shrewd to think that hard old Tade Dineen rr UilU i1r CVC » r <V U \>T marry any Colleen *> P°or herself hu tihe ifltWness thai thought cMailed was too much fen her, so deliberately she put it aside. Before Shameen himself came to tell her the news reached the htlle house beyond the bog thnjt he was to be married to Kate Moore, a ' returned "iank ' with heaps of money They specula! od rdly down in the I n , I^T Ollv Harry woul(1 ukc lhc news. But .she haakcrt (,nd that her huie home was isolated and lut no cunons e> es could pry upon her van while ace and shadowed ryes , uniil at least she should h«b\e learnt better to hide her stneknn heart One evening, though she tried to avoid him, knowing that he ucus haunting the house, she met Shameen ; hc .j »1J H'strng p hu . c . ii c told her ]n a fl d f words that he dm lo\e her, and her alone, Mit did she not understand how he had to do this thing? She listened to hiim in a froven silence, and there was a chilly contempt in her faye as she told him she understood quite well, that there was no need for him to come explaining what she knew already, antf that she had really too mMc-h to do to stay out any longer 1 hen she ran quickly away, leaving him standing angry and disappointed in the nmMle of the old bog road. At last lie strode aw a y, feeling \ cry contemptible, but trying to persuade himself that he was aggrieved. \\nile kn the tiny cabin poor Molly llimg herself down beside net bed, buijing her face in the tamglctd curls of her bahy brother , but soon the tight clasp of his chubby arms round her nock checked the chokmg sobs and his „oft breathing brought a measure of peace into ■her aching heart. Ah ' yes She understood only tco v J? <1 < i **c mcA to hor ' lyirs widened through the night, th>U if she were a imam slie would exorcise a mans light to choose where he loved and marry whom he would , not weighing a life's hapipiness by pounds shillings, and pence She hoped, and expected that Kate was plaun-looking mid middle-aged anyhow She thought she really would not care so much as lone as Shamcen lo\eu her best-Aer alone ho had said

(To be concluded next week.)

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