The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume], August 18, 1878, Morning, Page 2, Image 2

About The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881

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Morning Star and Catnoilc Messenger.
wW ORTLAW . SIRDAr, AUGUST 1e It e.
CASTLE DALY:
re
Story of an Irish Home Thirty Years Ago.
(Coastaeud.)
Ellen bad a severe remonstrance reedy, but
when Connor emerged from the blsoknese at
the end of the cave-hib merry face looking
oat of the folds of the old cloak still wrapped
round his bead-ber anger vanshed ; she had
mothlig to say as she threw her arms round
hie eek but "Oh, Connor, Connor, bow could
yeo do it "
"How could I do what t Play such a nice
game at bide-and-seek with you, Eileen aroon,
e my bi tbday I"
*'Little enough I came into your hoogbte.
Have you frightened Leabia out of her wr a "
SNot at all, it was thinking too much of me
the darling girl was, to be sarprised t see me;
I have made her own it. Was she to keep my
birthday, and I not to appar out of the earth
by magic to.tbank her 1"
"If she were the same little Bab t:e sbe was
last year, and not a great heiress, and if we
did not owe so muooch to her brother, I would
not mind your nonsensical wooinog; but as it
is-don't hate me, Conneor dear-I shall be
obliged to warn Mr. Tbornley, if you hang
about her and try ti get round her in seoret
ways. I cannot let him go away to England
sad leave Leebla under our care, unless you
permise to keep out of the way."
"He is going away to England! Hurrah!
Once let is get rid of his meddling bands and
prying eyes, and we'll do some good here,
D'Aroy and I."
"Bot I shall warn him of your doings with
Leable, and he'll stay."
"You have not the heart. Think what I'll
do for the cause if I get her and her thousands
to help us."
"It would be bsae. Ask your friend what he
would think of such conduct."
"Ask him I will, and welcome; he's too
stanch to stick at anything that would help
on the cause. Would you have him weigh the
good of the country against a dirty bit of
money of anyone's I"
"Well, I have warned 3on; and now I must
go. Mr. Thoroley will be back and miss
me."
"Bow cleverly you got rid of him. I heard
it all from behind the wall, and did not I tin
fle with impatience till Pelham wss fairly off?
twas awkward your bringing him here to-day.
He possibly might have taken it into his head
to refresh his memory with a look round, and
if be had put his head in here, would not he
have got even a bigger fright than he bad
when he fits; made acquaintance with the
place I"
"Was Pelham ever here I"
"Have you forgotten Liotor I Tris is D1n
nla' old still; and here, just where you are
standing, was where Liotor was shot."
"I hate to think of It, Connor; it seems as if
that was the beginning of all our troubles."
"It can't be helped now. Come on. I'll take
yon round the edge of the hill. If Mr. Thorn.
is there, be won't know me from an old
woman, with the cloak round my head, and I'll
answer for little Lesbia having presence of
mind to toss me a halfpenny."
"As they left the shed, Ellen shook hands
with D'Aroy.
"I am glad to have seen you, cousin," she
said.
"And I you, if we never meet again. 1
have too few belonging to me not to value
every chance of changing mty dreams of teem
to remembrances, above anything else that
concerns myself."
"There, what do you think of him t" cried
Connor, triumphantly, when they had emerged
into daylight again.
"I like him. I see what you mean about his
having power 'to draw all creatures living
under the sun. after him, so as you never saw,'
Sliete ito ý '-. . .---- -
"And he'll do it t, some purpose one day,
Eileen aroon: it was quite as much to show
him to you as to speak with Lebiae, that I
wiled you in there. Is not he glorious? I
should like Cousin Anne to see him."
"Why can't you both go like Christians and
stay with Cousin Anne, instead of inrking in
eaves and der a of the earth like "
"Patriots as we are. No, no; we have too
much conscience to involve Cousin Anne unbe
k/ nown to herself in our lawless doings ; but,
Ellen, he wants beyond anything to see the
inside of Castle Daly. His mother need t , talk
to him abJnt the place when he was a little
lad in the wilds of America, and he thinks all
the world of It. I have promised he shall at
least see our old schoolroom, and the black
framed likeness of aunt Ellen that banu s over
the ohhnus'ey-piece."
"Impossible, Connor ; you could not take
him secretly to the Thorole) s' house."
"Could not I What do you say to my hav
ing found the key to the little door to the
north turret, convenient in t;Ie pocket of an
old coat the very day I left Dublin ? I have
been in and o.' that way often enough to
know it, I suppose."
"But the roans are altered; the north wing
Is seldem need, and thedoor of contumnictaton
at the head of the turret it airs is genirally
looked."
"It will be open, you'll see, on thl night we
pay you a visit, wbeu you'll lave the little
trifle of noney we spoke about ready for me. I
can't possibly got back t Dublin without it, I
assure yon."
"Connor, I can't let you drawr Lisbia into
deceit."
' Give me credit for a grain of conscience, at
least; we are not so 1 dly t It for f,,llowere I''at
we need enlist her little frightened witsit, ,
our service. I hitter nmyself that I';t re are
servants in Castle l)ly still that wouil do a
good deal more for me tian for their raster.
Ask Miss Maynard shere she think- the hticll
bunch of forget-metnots sue fouuld iu her
dressing-table this morning came fr,m,."
"Connor, it's too bad. I believe its all j Lke
with you. I quarrelled with Mr. Tl'irili'y a
few utinnt ±s go for accrsing os tf playing at
rebellion; but I do think in's nothing tn ut play
with you."
'Well--hc--the fellow in there, has grim
earnest for t je two of us; and for the rett,
don't be rash. 8ome day, perhaps, when the
opportunity comen, you'll see whether it'r most
earnest or play with me. I don't think I'll be
the worse for getting all the fun I cen oct of
what comes in my way now. it's little enough
pleasure there is in life this year for any one.
There, put your lont on my knee for the last
scramble up the cliffs and over the wall. And
now I'd better vanish, but don't be too downo
bhearted. You have not seen quite the last of
me."
He disappeared for an instant, but before El
len had gone many steps fotrward down the slope
of the hill, hble head wrapped in the old cloak
again emerged from the shelter of the wall,
and be called her back tt whisper, ' Remem
ber, she believes firmly that I came all tbhe way
from Dublin for the sake of seeing her for ten
minutes on my birthday; and if you undeceive
her you'll make me no bettor than a spy and
an informer, and drive me to hang myself. I've
warned yoo fairly."
Ellen found Lebia still oocuopying the pre.
ocei spot where she had left her, and looking
as demore as if she had been employed the
whole time of her absence in gathering sprays
of sundew, and spreading oat the little rayed
dises, on her hand as she was doing then.
"Did youo-did yon dnd the preon you
theght would give ye. se of Ooanor ?
she asked, p .eia up Jt Rlss'. face
II spite of featr v tloon, and anxlety,
Eln old n elp buntsg out Into a hearty
Inuh.
"Babette, at least you and I need not huom
bog easoh other. I want to tell you how sorry
I am that Conneor should have been so silly and
taken eauh a liberty with yen."
"I suppose it was silly such a waste of time,
wben be ought to have been studying, Bride
and John would be very much annoyed if
they knew; they would never think I was safe
agaln,."
"Nobody ovpg.ls angry with Connor, but he
really deserves their anget and yours.
"Of cour.e I am very angry. Yet perhaps
one an bhardly call It a liberty. It wasa long
journey to takeoust for the chansoe of seeing
one for a few mlnutes. I don't think I ever
heard of snob a thing being done for any one
before-did you I'
"Only a wild boy like Connuor would be so
foolish; it is net worth thinking about."
"Oh, I shall certainly not think of it again,
nor mention it ti John and Bride. It is bet
ter not to make them anxious-don't you think
so I"
"Of course, I had rather not have my
brother's folly exposed; but you must do as
you think right, Leabia; I dare not ask you not
to tell."
"One does not like every little thing that
happet a to one to be thought of consequence.
Jost because one happens t, be an heiress,"
said Lesbia, pouting a little.
"It would be nothing to me, if it were not
my brother Connor, for whom I always feel
responsible." said Ellen.
"Ah, well, let us clamber down into the road,
and set out to meet John., and think no more
about it. You will not tell your brother Pel
ham; he must not know, of course. Bat-bnt
I wonder what be would think if he heard
that anybody, say the silliest person in the
world, had t-avelled right across Ireland just
to speak to poor little me, on his birthday. Be
would wonder that anyone should think at
worth while, would not he f"
"I am sure I don't know. We had better
walk on and hasten Mr. Thornley's move
ments Look at the length of our shadows, it
must be very late; Pelbam will be tired of
waiting for us at the landing place."
When John appeared at last, he had to con
fess to having managed to sprain his ankle
badly in leaping back to the shore of the lake
from the island of waterlilies. He brought a
large cluster of buds and flowers, but it only
needed a glance in his face to see that the re
turn walk along the rough road wiith the in
jured ankle had been a severe struggle. Lea
bia's flushed cheeks escaped notice under
cover of concern at her brother's accident; and
during the next uncomfortable hour-while
John Thornley limped along the road, frown
ing with pain and making strenuous efforts to
keep op cheerful conversation with his coom
panions, which neither of them could second
Ellen was brought to reproach herself for a
feeling of relief that had come to her on her
first sight of Mr. Thornley's condition. She
began to be sorry for his sufferings, though
she could not help still hugging the thought
that now at least for some days to come Con
nor and his friend would be safe from observa
tion of the keenest-witted person in the neigh
borhood, and that her diffiloolty about acept
ing the charge of Leebia might now be left
to settle itself. It was a real relief at last
when the boat was reached and Mr. Thornley
subsided into a seat and allowed that be did
not think be could have held on many minutes
longer. He was quite beyond talking when
the necessity for exec t on was over, and lay
back faint and pale, while Ldebla eat by him
and sprinkled him with water, and Ellen and
Pelham took the oars.
The sun had reached his point of disappear
ance behind Lao y-Core by the time they en
tered the lake ; the little island. with its ivy
draped ruin, that, seen in sunshine from the
hill had glowed like an emerald in its setting
of opal water, looked dark and imposing now
in deep shadow. The eastern distance lay
painted in every delicate tint, from intense
purple to softest lilac and grey-blue ; the bare
tops of the Maam Torts, with the son behind
them, stood out against a cloudless sky in a
wondrous haze of crimson fire, their rough ont
lines softened and clothed with a marvellous
tke fond d to theamoss.
phere and the hour.
Mr. Thornley dragged himself up from the
recumbent position which Leebia had enjoined
on him, to etr y the scene.
G'lamonr, is it not t" he said, smiling to
Ellen. "One would think oneself sailing
straight to the fortunate inlts to live on lot e
fruit in peace forever. Who would think it
was all bog and rock, and swamp and water?"
"And famine and strife and woe I" Ellen
cootloned to herself. "And ohl were the
high hopes and the generocs purposes glamour
t o I"
CIAI'TER XXV'III.
'She loverr yen, thee i
One it ish , f hope burst : ihin succeed night,
Atn ari's at darkest now. Impoelble.'"
C,.lo,nbl' B.irttda1,
Mr. Thornley's accident bronught precisely
the resolt Ellen bad foreseen. The proposed
journey to London had to be put, off, and t>
give himself a chtance of undertaking it before
the spring was quite over, he had to submit
to lie up and abstain from all use of the In
jored ankle fur man:v da:ys. Nothing was
heard of Connor, and Ellen ceased to start as
unexpected sounds, and began to look eagerly
for letters iu the hope of seeing Counor' hand
writing on an envolope stamipedl ' D.b'in"
again. The days f Mr. Thornley's captivity
were decidedly pleasant days t j everyone in
the hones. Alter I aperienuoug one or two of
them, Ellen underet'..d the complacency with
which Bride Thoroley congratulated herself
on being bound to a brother who knew how to
stay in the house reaeouably, and conld be cut
fi from his ordinary occupations 'itltout
making himself ando everybody sear hue,
miserable. During the press of the sorrow fat
business of the past winter, some literrary
work, in which Jo'n Tbhornley had previo:bly
,ben nnuch interet 'd, and had to be laid
aside, and now he and Bride turned Ick to it
with a zeal that smetniaes cetIried Elle.n's
suipathies with theire, ht:.! r,~tetines left
iher (4she n t being of the ~iie.ut i l tHudentot
uatiurel lost in astunatlhllmet :at the:r power of
abhtrat lin frowm litre~ent ilnter n e..SI-e sat
once or twice tarongh an hlunr or two of a
rainy af:ernoon, listening t i their eaCer die
cousaione in aluiot abeolute sileuce, while
wonder grew ini her mind, till it was almset
indignation, at the eight of two thoughtful
people occup) iug themselves, while asuftlering
such as she knew of was going on all around,
with discuscions as to the relative merit of
Charles Lamb's and Addison's etyles of essy
writing; the setret cause of Dean Swift's me
lancholy ; or even the shabare which IBonsse~n's
dreams of the perfectibllity of human neture
had had in bringilng about the reckless diseo
gard of individual human life which marked
the first French Revolution. She thought the
talk even more heartless when, instead of for
getting the present tiome, they spoke eagerly
of it for the lake of searchlog out analogies to
its woes in past periods of history ; Bitting
cause and effeot, and probable remote conse
quenees, with a stisfactiou in the complete
ness of the chain of reasoning that made them
appear like dieseetors calmly gathering knowl
edge from the throes of a living subject Then
the recollection of a facsoe writt in over with
deep lines of indignation and pity; of a few
words. lately heard, breathing restless impa
tienoe of wrong, came back to her with a glow
ol sympathetio approval and content. Surely
it was nobler to grow wild with paln at the
sight of a great calamity, and spend oneself
in frantic efforts to arrest its progress, than to
be able to stand aside and chronicle the death
throes and photograph the riotlm's glazing
eyes, and speulate pbhilosophloally on what
was to come when the agony had passed.
Os*e or twlee John divised by She eprss
ee a ws
taken, and when his and Bride's argements
oame t, an end, he tried a little weistflly t
draw out an expresslon of opinion from her,
and gain an oppostonity of setting himself
right in bher eyes. Then the conversation was
apt to take a plunge into depths of metaphy
ales, where the three sometibnes found. stand
ing ground whence they could get glimpee of
eahob other' points or view concerning the
practical matters they seemed to have left far
behind them. John would seknowledge the
hardeing effeet on obaraeter of looking at
lif obiefly from the inolleotual side, and con
fee that even in great questions, of politics
or eoolology, the want of due appreciation of
the subtler emotions sad spiritdal souroes of
individual and national life was a fatal hin
drance to penetrating to the truth of things,
and cansed the caloulations of the science that
takes note only of tangible reenlte to prove it
self folly when tated by experience. Bride,
following her brother's lead, would bring ex
amples from history of great result which
had sprung from some unpremeditated word
or deed of generous enthusiasm, or divine
folly of self-sacrifice. Then Ellen listened
complacently again, thinking of an enthusiasm
which they had pronounced folly a few mine
ntee before, bet which might yet prove itself
to be the very conduot they were now admir
ing. One or two rainy afternoons spent in
s3oh talk had the effect of years of ordinary
itteroourserin making the sharere in it known
to each other. Ellen fell into a habit of refer
ring in thought to the brother's and sister's
standard on all occaseions when a judgment
had t he formed, and began to feel as if she
had spent half a lifetime in their company in
stead of a few days.
The last piece of literary work Mr. Thornley
undertook during his imprisonment was an
eessy on the poetry of Young Ireland. It
grew from his having t, listen to numerous
quotations from the poems of C Onnor's friends,
which had served Ellen for arguments in their
politioal disonussions. At his request she
brought out her store of ballads out from the
N4ation newspaper. And t> secure thatjostioe
should be done to the merits of the verpee, she
undertook to read them aloud herself.
"Who is vt that signs himself 'D'Arcy'?"
asked Bride, looking over Ellen's shoulder, as
she finished a poem whiobh bad called out all
her powers of effective reading; ' there is
surely something of the true ring about his
verses; and how well Ellen always reads
them "
"Give the paper to me. I shall better know
what the poem is worth when I read it to my
self-" Jobhn said, stretching out his hand for
the newspaper Ellen held.
She looked up suddenly, and saw an expres
sion of kesn anxiety in the eyes that, unknown
to her, had been stadying her face as she
read, and she could not help starting and
coloring violently. She had quite forgotten
where she was; the lighted drawing room
had faded away from before her eyes as she
spoke the words, and she had been seeing the
turf shieling under the bill, and the dosty
snnrays streaming through a chink in its roof
odtt a face that, now she had once seen it,
seemed to furnish- a comment on the words
she was repeating. It was startling to .be
called back to her preset t surrounding by the
consciousness that her thoughts were being
guessed at by some one near; and she was
angry. with herself for the agitation that
would Increase the more she thought sabot
it, as if she had been guilty of betraying a
secret. Mr. Tboraley withdrew his eyes from
her face : but as bJe falded and rustled the
paper, she heard a quick impst!eot sigh.
Bride had mea wbhile taken up a sheet that
Ellen had laid aside a few'minutes before, and
was busy with it.
"Surely there is unnsual power of pictur
esque desoription here too. John, just listen
to the first verse again
"'Lon, long ao. hebad the misty space
Of twice a thouena years.
In Erin old there dwelt a mighty race
Taller th. n Roman spears.
Like oaks and towers, they had a giant grace,
Were fleet as deer,
With woods and waves they maE'e their hiding-place,
These western shepherd seers.'
SuBoob pictures in a few words one does not
often get from an unknown young poet."
"How do on know he is young t-that
strikes m.- as practised wrlt g--..
"le is young," said Ellen. "'The author of
those verses is also a friend of Connor's He
began to write very early, I have heard. He
was thrown on his own resources when he
was almost a child, and was editing a paper
in America at eighteen. He is sub editor of
the Nation no Ax."
"And a hero in your eyes, I perceive," said
John.
"Other people have bad t o provide for them
selves at eighteen, and fir their brothers and
sisters too, without anyone taking them for
heroes," said Bride, looking at her brother.
'That has nothing whatever to do with
what we are talking about," answered John,
sharply, and evidently annoyed. "Let me
have all the newspapers. I will "look over
Young Ireland's effasions at my leisoro, and
see what I can make of them. Two of the
poets are at least worth demolishing."
Ellen, who had now recovered her self pos
seesion, p ooeded to collect the newspapers,
and arrange them asooording t, date. "'I hope
I have not done the Young Ireland poste any
harm by reading their verses aloud," se said.
"I want you to write a good review. I know
they feel it hard that no one in England takes
any notoe of what they writ, let it be ever
so powerful. It is like sounding a trumpet
to deaf people. PerhaI s you might act as a
sort of cood ctor, and carry the soonds into
an at norphere that will reaoh more ears."
"I will write my beet after that," said John,
with a glow on hin pale face; "and as for
your rending. I was thiniog, just as you
epoke, that . I were dead, and you were to
cone and read verses of mine over my grave
as you have r' ad those, the sound would stir
the fr . " , blo,,d about my heart, and call me
bick to life an~in. It w-nold be enougi, I
ehotid tay, to ,atiefy any pcet's au.mbion to
hear y on read 1 I, verses occe."
"I t oink .e , t.i I, ter op-u the window to
let o t, I -- ., 'toteal till ttus," remarked Bride
dr3l . "Tt- r om is so full of exaggerrtion
it i g.a*,tegto our betads."
' , t irtto , ic:," 'coaid E len, laughing. "I
knw tell l otlgh that nothing will ever
eati fy Ce n'.,'' ambittion but a paragraph of
oiiit! lt tet IpAiee inl a ,Uarte ly 1ctriei, and
it is Mr. T'ooiniey, not i, who can give Lim
th at."
For the Itext day or two, Mr. Thornley shut
himself iuto his study to wrte, and as Bride
was occupied w'to preparations for the jour
ney to London. which wes fixed for the end of
the week, Ellen spent her time with Lesbia
among her old baunts on the hills and lake.
8ometimes Pelham accompanied them in their
walks; and sometimes Mrs. Daly was per
suasded to take a seat in a boat, or to share a
drive, and in her company Lesbia was always
her beet and sweetest self, not the shy shrink
ing Babette of Whiteoliffa days, nor yet the
self-conscious heiress, who aired little whims
and graes t1 the annoyance of John and
Bride, but a pleasant mixture of coaxing
sweetness and pretty deferenoe that exactly
bit M's. Daly's requirements in a companion
oand brccght out Pelham's conversationsl
powers to snoh an extent that Ellen found
herself at liberty to follow out her own
thoughti undisturbed. She was not sorry to
be hI f. to herself. Jnst for those days, under
neath all the anxiety that possessed her there
was a glow of renewed hope and oonaidence
that colored her musings with a brighter tint
than they had known for many a day. It star
tied her, as falling in curiously with the cur.
rent of her thoughts, when one afternoon,
Pelham, detaloingher for a few minues' con
versation In the garden, a tsr Lsbla bad gone
into the beomse, began hile communications by
akluag l ra ne tone-
--trs viM meaote do youa appose lhes.
account, and make :such acrifies as he dose
to help u I
Sb had been dependlng on his help; but it
had not occurred to her to question the motive
for its being so freely given, till Pelham put
it to her.
"Do you mean anythlng fresh "sbhe asked,
remembering, after a minate's thought, that
the service bshe was most counting on joust
now could act have entered into Pelham's
calculations,
"Every day brings something fresh: and as
I have no one to conelt but you, I want you
to help me to consider whether we are not
letting ourselves be bound by greater obll
gations than it is right for as to accept frim
anyone"
"Dear Pelham, how kind of yeo to consult
me I" said Ellen stroking the arm she bela
fondly, and looking up intp his faee with as
much gratitude as if he had offered her a
crown.
Pelham was touched. "I am sure I don't
want to keep you out of my oo denoe,s he
said, a little bhskily. "I am lowly enough,
and we three ought to hold togeh er, for we
have not much else but each other to hold on to.
If I have net consulted you and Connor hither
to, it is because you always seem to be looking
so far ahead that you have no attention for
what is paseing.
"You shall always flod us ready to attend to
whatever occupies you for the future. We
will make a triple alliance, dear Pelham-so
close, that neither Pelham Court, Pelhams'
nor Thornleys shall ever come between aus
again."
"There is no need to guard against Pelham
Court interference now, Ellen. My chief an
noyance is the cool way in whiob Uncle Charles
hands over our affeirs t John Toornley, leavr
ing him to meet all difficulties as they arise
in the beet way he can. As long as our mis
fortune seemed manageable, Uncle Charles was
ready enough to help, but now that it has
passed beyond his experience, he refcses t3 be
lieve in it-be turns his back upon us, and
leaves things to take their course."
"If Mr. Thornley had done the same i"
"We should have been ruined as utterly as
any of the poor wretches who are turned out
of their little holdings to earn enough Indian
meal on the public works to keep themselves
from starving. Ellen, you and I are almost, if
not quite, as truly beggars, living this year on
charlty, as that gang of men with pickaxes
over their shoulders who are crawling miser
ably past our gets Jost now. I am sorry to
startle you, dear, by saying such a thing, but
it is true."
'"But why is it. so How have things grown
so bad with nef"
"The famine. There has not been a shilling
of rent paid this year on the estate, and will
not be; yet the interest on the mortgages has
to be made up. The holders are ready to come
down on os at the first failure, and are only
held off by the remittances John Thornley
pays out of his own pocket."
"But is he so rich t I thought it was Lesbia
whe had all the money."
"He had a legacy-and he calls paying our
debts speoulatiog with his fortune, and says
he has a right to do what he pleases with his
own."
"Then we are actually depending on him I"
'The rent paid for the Castle has been our
chief resource through the winter; but what a
transparent pretence it is-their choosing to
rent it from as this year. The old residents
are flying the country as if it were plague
stricken, as indeed it is-and they stay on. It
must be for our sakes ; but why I want you
to help me to solve the puazzle and consider
whether we can continue to accept his charity!"
"You expected Uncle Charles to do more for
no t"
"I think he might take a little more trouble.
I think he might be kinder to my mother and
you, and offer you a home, instead of leaving
you to be obliged to comparative strangers for
a shelter."
"Pelham, dear, you make me feel very guilty
when you say that. There is something to be
said in excuse for Uncle Charles, and I have
only been waiting for a good opportunity to
tell you. I bhad another letter from Marma
duke just before we came here."
"And you have answered it t"
"Yes; mamma was very kind, and told me
what-pleased-a-ndif y
be as good to me, Pelham, and ty not to
blame me more than you can help, for keeping
mamma out of her old home-I will be s.
grateful to you."
"I can be sorry for your decision without
blaming you. You have a right to choose for
yourself; but I have always thought Marina.
duke a very good fellow, and that you were
lookv to please him."
"Yes, I know everyJne thought so-certainly
everyone at Pelham Court-and that would
not have made it easier for me to go there as
Marmaduke's wife. I shoould nrt have gone
only to him, but to them all. It would nave
been j ist the same with me as when I stayed
there three years ago; and Pelham, I don't
think I could condemn myself to carry snobh a
sore, angry heart to the end of my life as I bad
then, They di n. t mean to hout me, but their
way of treating me as altogether different from
themselves crept out at every other word.
They were always telling me bow Irish I was.
It was Irish exaggeration, Irish blundering,
Ir'sb romance, whenever I spoke a word that
came frt sh from my head or warm out of my
heart. Yet, for mamma's sake, and to satisfy
you, I thick I could have borne it al', in
any other way than just the way Marina
doke wanted. That would not have te,n
honest. lie likes me as I am, poor fellow, and
would have expected me to go on being myself
in spite of them all, and I am not strong
enough. IIe would have been disappointed,
just as Connor and I used to be disappointed
in ou:r b.tterfly chts e, when we closed our
hands on a purple emperor, and found, on
opening them, tLat there was nithing inside
but broken wings and dust. Don't you think
that there is truth in what I say, Pelbam,
dear You'd like me to be true, above ail,
wooull you not I"
"Yes," said Pelham, deliberately, aft3r a
oneoilet'bi'eunce ; "J ou are quite right, Elle:
and whatever trouble is betore us, I promise
never to reproach Joo with what you have
thrown away. I know more about it than you
suppose. You are not the only one of us who
has felt cut of place at Pelbarn Court. I have
not forgotten what I octl'ered when I first went
t s live there as a little fellow, and they usneed
to show me like a coriosity to their friends, as
their cousin from Connaught, and wonder, be
fore my face, that I had not higher spirits,
and did not make Irish bulls. I used to vow
to myself recver to speak an unnecessary word.
If I am a dull, reserved fellow now, yon must
puot it down to the training in silence I had
then. After all, I am afraid sometimes that I
am as Irish at heart as any of you-if feeling
a great deal more than is convenient makes
me so."
"Oh, Pelham, thank you for saying that!
Now we are real brother and sister."
"But, whatever I mi at the core, I keep the
horror that grew up with me of acting so as
to draw on myself the charges usoally brought
against Irishmen. Conduct that, under certain
olroomstances, I might have been capable of,
becomes impossible to me when I remember
the contsmpt I have heard poured on it at
Pelham Court as the usual resouroe of a
broken-down Irish gentleman."
"Bat what conduct 7"
"Roined Irishmen are always said at Pelham
Court to mend their fortones by marrying
heireses."
"Mamma was not an heiress-they cannot
say that of----"
'No, no f-and yet you must have ncticed
the pitying tone in which they always speak
of our mother there, is if she had, if not de
graded, at leaset done very badly for herself in
marrTing an Irishman."
"Why do you reeal that now 7"
"To a yen back to the question we began
"You are tbinking of Connor and Leebia."
' Of Connor I On no, he never wase n ear
nest."
"Jest and earnest are so mixed up tegether
in Connor, one oannot say. It would nct have
been another person's earness, but I believe it
was his."
"The worst for us all. There is no use in
shutting our em to faots. Day by day we
are sainking lowwr and lower, and every step
down brings with it another link in the chain
of obligation to the people who any day may
possess themselves of all we are losing. Do
yon think John Thornley'e'lindness is meant
in any way to lay an obligation on me not to
try-not to win--lin short, las he, do you
think, the Pelham Court noWion of an Irisb
man's method of repairing his broken fortunes t
and does be intend by every service he forces
on us to show me that it would be treachery
in me to-the thought is intolerable His
mea log or not meaning it changes nothing In
the fo-ts-but I oould not bear to be taking
bribes; to feel that it was eb:igation, not my
own sense of honor alone, that g,'arded every
woid and look."
"My poor Pelham ! how I wish it was not
such deep earnest with you."
"I can't understand such a thing being at
all, if it is not earnest. Of course I know per
feotly well that there is to be no end ti it.
Let the worst fortune come that can come, I
will never be the seedy Irishman that worms
himself into idle comfort again through a wo
man's good will, nor shall Connor so degrade
himself, if I cnn prevent it."
''And sapprse poor little Lesbia should love
the one or the other of you '"
"You have no reason to think she does."
"I do not say I have; and at all events, Pal
ham, no one can accuse you of giving her the
opportunity. The ' Cadet dejColobriere' him
self-who, by the way, now I come to think of
it, is Lesbia's favorite romance-hero Just at
present-was not more farouce than you are."
"I don't want to make a bear of myself. I
am not anch an idict as to think there is any
need. I only grow savage when this question
of the motive ef John Thornley's kindness
puzzles me; and his favors begin to look like
bribes."
"His kindness has never astonished or puz
zled me. I know quite well that he feels as if
he could never do enough fir as, and that all
he has belongs more to us than to himself.
Toough he is so much more your friend than
mine, I underatand him better than you do,
and give him;eredit for higher motives. It has
not anything to do with you and Leebia. All
his conduct to us is influenced by-just that
night-yen know what I mean. Our father
died in his place; and when he took him out
of my arms, I believe he felt as if he took
upon himself all the care for us that our father
would have had. I don't think you need
scruple to accept any service from him: it
comes to him as duty with t'e life that, but
for our father's generos'ty, would have ended
that night."
" But he Las never said a word of the kind
I should not think he is at all the soft of man
to have such a romantio idea of duty. ton
know they would call it so at Pelham Court.
They would put that down as one of your seno
timental Irish ideas, and scout the possibility
of its influenclng Uncle Charles' model man of
business, John Tnornley."
"Then they don't know him as well as I do.
Sentimental or not, the thought did not come
out of my mind at all. I have read it in his
face a dozen times. Some faces have snobh a
great deal in them: and do you know, Pelham,
I begin to think it is the plain faces that bear
best to be looked at, and are the beautiful ones
after all. Yes, I know it is an Irish bull ; but
I mean exactly what I say. I at ed to call Misse
Thoruley and her brother plain, bat since I
have been here I have seen looks on their
faces that are beyond an3thing for what they
tell you."
"Whatever Thornley's motives may be, my
position of dependence on him remains the
same; and you can't wonder at my finding it
galling, and longing to esosape somehow. If
only I were not snoch a fooll-if I could do
any thing I"
"It seems to me that you are doing a great
deal. Let us, just fir argument's sake,
suppose that all the Daly estates had passed
into the Thornless' hands, that they were
ownernd thegento would still be
working and earning what you receive.
"About a tenth part-for my work is not
worth much. I am only learning. The rest of
our income would be charity, and is."
"You are so resolutely sensible, dear Pel
ham, you won't let the least little touch of
illusion onme in to hide the ugly bare outlines
of fact. That is Pelham Court training, and
it does make things hard for you."
"At the best it is d fihuit to accept obliga
tions gracefully, and not let them make one
feel mean."
"There are plenty of people have to do it
this year. What we feel about the Thornley's
bounty is only a twinge of the great pain all
Ireland is feeling at having to take relief frtn
England. There are some who can't b ar it at
all, who are j2st driven wild with the shame
of having to be fed by the hands that have
oppressed and robbed us hitherto. They think
it would be b t-er to break loose before the
new chains are bound round us, and die free.
You can unoderstand their feealing for the
nation what you feel for yourself, can 5 on not,
Pelham dear I
"'I can understand it and blame it, too. I
don't mean to encrage myself in bitterness,
however great the temptati.n may be. When
things are at the blackest, and one's way hard
est to se'. what is the use of raising more
mist, Wh, t aer it is hope or sauer that cre
ates them, they can only bewilder. Let us do
our best in our extremity to see clearly and
walk straight."
"I shall have a chance of growirg wise, now
you take me in hand. We must indeed help
each other, Pelbhan, for we have a great deal
t > bear. How pret:y the village looks from
bete-tho freshly white-washed cabins, the
broad road overhanging the water, and the
green shoie of the lake! Who would think
there was sarrow and death in itt Pelhanm,
since we ;inet leave all this, and leave it
spoilt and sad, I am glad that you have not
often been here; that your life has not struck
such deep roots abaut the place as mine and
Connor's."
"I don't know. Som.times I think I shall
feel the break-up mere than either £ f 3ou. I
shall always be a irry that I did not care for
the poor old place while it was ours."
Joest then the bll for the Angelus from the
little white-washed chapel in the village
saunded. l len clasped her hands round her
brother's arm, and held him motionless and
silent where they were standing for a moment
or two.
"Just think," she said. when they turned
again towards the honee, "what a great cry of
anguish went up to-night from all Ireland
wirh the Angelus bell: 'Pray for us sinners,
now, and at the hour of our death I' and the
hour of death so near to thousands every
where throughout the land now. As I stood
still thet moment I ooold almost believe that
I felt and heard the great throb and cry for
help go pulsing up to the throne ef God. We
must comfort ourselves by remembering that
He heard it surely."
An expression of reverent gravity remained
on Ellen's face tell she had parted from Pelbham
in the hall and mounted the first flight of the
etsircase on her way to her mother's room, end
then, at a sudden thought, she turned and ran
back to him in one of those rapid changes of
mood that were so incompreheonslble to him.
Resting both hands on his shoulders, she look
ed smilingly so his face
"'Now, my dear Cadet de Colobriere-no.
Aloe de Daly, I mean "-she said, "I am not
coming down to dinner to day; mamma is
tired, and I am going ti make tea for her in
her room, and I lay a solemn charge on you
not to befaoucet. I as3re you, on my honor,
that the commooplaceu talking ladividal is tbe
least eaages ohe imwo, *ae tS1a& -
soleuoe imposes Upon ou to be eztb .ol
agremeble, and to ma e tbe vealfoi in m
anoe a leOsare nstead of a wea siness too
bhs's. orw, attend, and I shall take measl t
learn bow you conduoot yourself."
S (To boo ctlnued.)
^ Por parioolars regarding Electrio Belts, a
dres 'Pualvermaehar Glvanlte ompany." Cae at.
Ohio.
i ISCELLANEOUS. s
REMOVAL.
ALBER T G. BLANCHRD,
Civil Engineer and Deputy Surveyor,
r Has removed his oeo sand residence to
NIO. 939 MAGAZINE STREET,
corner of Dslachais street. one square above LonuL
His downtown office is in the Mechasles' Ixchsa
ui dnr the et. ChalesBotel-addres Box Sl.
Liees and levels alven in any art of the olty. P
and estimetes to order. Jy.
FROM AND AFTER THIS DATE, MR . A
MADDEN has an interest in my business. styls
firm
H. T. LAWLER & CO.
July 1. 107 H.T. LAWLL
J. H. KELLER,
* .UrACrTe.. of
n(O GsAnarcf " CASTDBUUR~
ALL KINDS OF LAUNDRY AND TOILET 6SOi
KELLER'S FAMOUS CARBOLIC SOAP
je30 ly For Cleansing and Disinfeoting Purposes
p. A. MURRAY,
CIBTERB NMAKER,
No. 191 Magazine Street.
ALL WORK WARRANTED.
A lot of Cypress CISTERNS, fe
1005 to 20,000 gallons capacity, miad.
the beet material and workmnsh
kept constantly on hand. and for l
at PRICES CHEAPER THAN TBi
CHEAPEST.
Highest Fremiume awarded ast b
tO last LouLisana State Farin ands
the Southern btates Agrilurul m
Industrial Exposition of 186.
All kinds of Cisterns made and r
paired.
SEND FOR PRICE LISTS. apT7 8
P. CALLFBY. T. CAR.T. C. PIEr,
CALLERY & CO.,
PELICAN ODORLESS APPABARIh
For Emptying Vaults.
WORK DONE CLEAN AND NEAT-ORABO
REASOJABLE.
Particular attention paid to Repairing and Cementin
Vaults. Orders left at any ef the following
places will receive prompt attention:
28............Commercial Place ............ 23
Betwoen Camp and St. Charlse streets,
226......-....Josephine Street - .. .......
Betwoen Constance and Megazine,
87 FRENCHMEN STREET, Third District
Box 57 Mechanics' Exchange, under St. Charles Hotel.
Price Lists can be seen at any of the above plore
Our motto, good satiesfaetion or no oharge.
fell ly
OFFICE OF THE
AMERICAN COTTON TIE CO.,
LIMITED,
GO..,w.,....iarondelet Street ........
Nrw ORLEANS.
IMPORTANT SPECIAL NOTICE.
The AMERICAN COTTON TIE COMPAIr
(LIMITED) having fixed the proice of the celebrel
ARROW COTTON TIE
at 2 50 per bundle, lees 21 per cent dlcount fore
the General Agents hereby authorize their Sub-AgesS
in this city (dealers tI Baling Stuff") to sell to i
contract with Factors and Country Merhlants. 0
future delivery on the above-named prloe and term
in quantites, from time to time, as may berequinh
settlementa being made on delivery.
The Company having a large stock nowon handi
having contracted for an abundant oupply to meets
entire demand for Cotton Tree throughout the Clii
States. the celebrated aRROW TIE will be plus
upon the market gernerally. and sold by their n al
Agents at the price and terms above r sated. it bll
the object and purpoeo of the Company to r.eriiil
continued patronage of the planting commnulty.
R. W. RAYIE & CO.,
autl 77 ly GENERAL AOENTS.
JOIIN G. ROCHE,
250 and 22.... Magazine Street....250and
arear Delord.
UNDER TAKRI AND EWBALMOR
All businese entrusttd to my care mill receivp
and careful attention at moderate rats.
COARRIAGES TiO HIlRE5 309lt
ANDREW LEO,
CARPENTER AND BUILDER,
OICE0 AND ei1OP,
459 Magazine Street. near Race.
Al orders left there orat Box 94 Mechal lca' ndDeal
Exchange, Oravier and St. Charles streets, wllhb&
usual, promptlry attended to. n04
palase . olod.W nee.ri. "co
$1200 PSa_. R........ .
x, pno ar Peal. s s.crek
O 1. Odd... C A. NT
__?2 4, OTH S Items... CtsaioaLD i
$3o GOLD PLAYED WATCG. Cherys
os.nt8 Adre.sA 8. CanU s: ow
GRAND OPENING
Largest Stock
EVER EXiIBITED IO NEW -