Wingham Times, 1890-01-24, Page 2am Cinit
'AtID•Ay', JAN1,14,.J 24, 1820,
Morn and Eve Over Again.
Otte summer's day—the tale is told—
/au honest peasant, poor and old,
Worked in the meadow with Iiia wife,.
When thus she spoke: Well ou my lifet
'Tis precious hard that you and I
Rust sweat beneath the burning sky,
Like galley slaves, for paltrypay,
And all because—.alas the clay!
Of A,dam's fall But for his sin
And Eve's how happy we ban been!
'rue, said the peasant;. I believe
Bard I been Adam -..you been Eve—
No foolish feucies would have come
But all the race this very, day
Rad in the gardeu been at play!
The Count, their maetor, standing near
"(Though quite unnoticed) chanced to hear
Their wise discourse; and laughing said;
Well, my good friends, suppose instead
Of 1'aradisa nay mansion there
Were yours to -day, with princely fare
For food to eat and wine to drink,
Ali ! that were. L'aradiseiudeed 1
What more, they cried, could mortals need 2
Well, we shall see, the, Count *replied ;
But that your virture may be tried
Remember, ou the table, served
With many a dish, there's one reserved,
Partake of everyone you see
Save that, which (like the fatal tree)
Just in. the centre I will place,
Beware of that! lest Adam's case
Should be your own, and straight you go
Back to your sickle, rake and hoe!
Soot to the: castle they were led,
And by a table richly spread
As for a bacchanal carouse
Behold the peasant and his spouse!
See, cried the woman, what a treat
k'ar ?lore, I'm sure, than we can eat;
With
The
Wb
F
M
I There is something white in.
boat, tarideon, litre wo
a man a scarf,
I left my breakfeet urttasted, ru
inn out to the shore with the glass
my Baud. The boat tossed and wav
ed like a live creature on the fo
tipped waves, while in the moan
wind a scarf on same loose drap
blew nut like a signal' of diatrese,
hurried to launch the big yawl th
had weathered many a. sea.
wasbare headed and in my sh
sleeves,
here, Gideon; here I be! The
she was—my mother. „ She had
shawl folded over her eholders e
tied behind: over her cap was fasten
a bandanue. handkerchief, #ho he
out nay cap.
Yor are not going, I said, sha_
ly.
. Yes. I he, son; sum'uns got to steer,
as aha falls ori' so, an' eum4un must
keep a look out for'ard. She jumped
into the boat, taking the helm in her
brown, wrinkled hands. A. fine,
brave. figure. I bent my strength to
the oars, It was a wildish • pull, for
though the wind blew on shore, it was
ehb tide, making a rough, oboppy sea.
.1 wasted no effort to look ahead, and
she kept the boat steady, and we Sooi
gained • on the speck.
We finally reached the speck, and
it proved to be an open boat. Mother
fastened the painter to it, and I did
not turn my Dead.
The wind freshepiag, I rowed hasti•
ly to the shore, Our landing was a
miniature harbor; a tiny cove sheltor•
tlkti, sea by frowning rocks at
Flwas smoothe,ewatnr
a Ionglassytap...•• 1 stood up to
at th'dingo craft. It evident-
zlonged to a yacht, was dainty and
i, painted white, with `Dolphin'
old letters on the side.
1other, 1 cried hoarsely: there is a
nate in the boat!
know it, but didn't want to dis-
t you out there, Land me on the
weed. I'll run and get the fire up.
poor creetur' may be alive.
.pulled the strange beat upon the
seetd, and then with beating heart I
stopped to look.' Urtder the seats of
he boat, where a riffle of water
plashed to and fro, was a woman's
gure, slight, though tall, covered
with a cloak of golden plush—though
hen did not know what the rare
tuli was that gleamed in tints, like
ght, through a colored window. It.
as Tined with soft, white .fur, new
niggled and wet with sea water.
ver the woman's head ' a fine
ce scarf, one end of wh eh was loose
lid had waved a signal of distress in 1
le wind. She was so still and white
at I thought her dead. I lifted hor,
d carried her to'the house—she t
eighed no more than a child.' Moth -
had the old lounge drawn close to P
e stove, and there I laid our strange f'
est,
Lain't she'a pretty creator? cried 1
other. Some good man's heart is 0
re distressed this day. 1 's
An hour later mother called roe. 1
o stranger's eyes, bin and blue like 0
r gown, were wide open, looking w
out her curiously. • , Y
rv'as so cold, she said with a shiv a
n4 t have never heard a womanfs
oe so strangely sweet. Tell ine to
e you found me. to
o we told her of 'a speck •on the
While mother dried the golden Y
r, the stranger reached up suddenly h
drew- the kindly . hands to her `1
st
rod bless you, pretty creetor'l cried to
tber,q trite overcorrre. - .An' where all
our people novel Grieving terribly, ea
ell know.
T�Ta, said the stranger,.bitterly, fd
re can be no grief where there is to
the
nit -
ere
silt
ing
ery
at
ire
a
nl
ed
id
rp.
,�i oil who would know it if I didl
tsbe suits the action th the word,
When from the dish a little. bird
The Count hard slyly hidden there
(;sine rushing forth into the air.
And through the open window flew;
And so it was the master knew
What they had done, 'Away!' he said,
!lack to the field and earn your bread
As you were wout—and neer complain
Of Adam and of Eve again 1
OFr 'Park; HEAD LIGHT.
It was `a chilly, foggy evening in
September; the sea rolled in against
the rooks in great, sullen!, gray waves,
seething and hissing over the seaweed,
the light freaked spectral and ghostly.
I turned out the lamp. Far in the
want a rosy tint ore, t into the mist.
1 went on the iron• ba;icony itraun-J
the little tower. While I stood •there
I thought of my dreary lite—the only
cry of e, poor fisherman drowned off
rguin light that flickered in the fog
!ilea out to se,s. 1 grew up in that'
mall visage, went' to school. uiitil I
as 12, their began to tisk with the
trackersI.eatciiers: Like other Bids,
had hopes and mutations for the fu -
So life went on until thanksgiving
week, when there was a 'venation of a
fortnight, and Kitty Robbins Baena to
visit Lie. The big fisherman, her
father, rowed her over, and both ho
and. Kitty, as 1 saw,. looked with
suspicion on Marie. When be wad
gone Kitty came up into the tower
where I was cleaning the lamp.
Gideon she isn't a good woman; her
Bair is bleached, she said, Kitty
somehow then looked sallow and
homely; her voice rasped nae -.-.tire
sharp nasal tones of most. t;ew Eng-,
Your father, dear?.halo mother. world, 1 will not lie to Kitty top
No; 1 am an orphan, Six years you. Is that your revenge, to
ago. 1 was married to—to an English- me love yea and then testi me - way
mast, 1 did net love him : ray father, for her to take the dregs 1 Oh, 1 have
who lived only a year after my zuar- heard of.worsen of your world, his
liege, forced me into it. Afy husband play to them to break a eiinplo beast
was twice my age. We were unhappy. like mine..
1 reached the end of all suffering ; my Bear iyitrh me, only moment, she
heart became stone, When niy baby cried, Wall' ,quivering pe. Xou love
waa three years old it died and Iran a guilty woman, forsaken by all .then
away, How earn 1 tell you 1 To be world. Am 1 then so precious to you 4
revenged on my husband I fled with No man would dare marry floe when
the man he hated -.4 Lilian, who bas every day might bring him some ono
written me the letc,er that Gideon who knew, It bas been tried and the
woutan bas always drifted book to sin.
There were too many who kpo+v. It
w as a lifelong battle itli assassine,
words,
over,
will
mY
that
world
your
your
hat I
shed.
ling
cod
our
not
my
now.
11 I
has
ting
alis,
rave
are
sad
lilt.
1
rid
1
of
ed
he
ut
nd
al
vied
n,,
d
co
it
e
ie
et
n
la
b
p
0
w
0
t
n
See
;h
w
ng
or
her
Make
pp
ti
ht
a
r2a
r
v
e
h
al
n
n
1.'
ed
walked
or
of
vie, Then it was, framed in an aiineol
e. of light, I saw her face. It was fa
s, , away, where 1 had first seen the drift
1. Ing boat. I saw her se distinotly tha
, a great cry rose to my lips: Marie!
r, Mad with eagerness 1 ran to th
o tower. Would she come back? Wool
d that slight figure with the wistfu
r face come up the" old stairs to; bid
me once more farewell.
r Marie, I cried, if the dead con
back you shall come to me.
- I prayed, 1 raved, I strove with that
mystery called death. In vain
only that face in thee fog, Not
sound of her voice, a'' rustle of het
gown, a touch of her hand. I looked
like a dead man in the morning, ashy
and wan. I flung myself on my bed
and fell into a ri'serable consciousness
that was not sleep or waiting. Mother
came to me at noon,
Ad boat has just landed at the cove,
Gideon,
She has come! I cried, mad with'
joy. She bas come agaiiil
Ay, lad, trembling. She has come
in her colli,
With a wild ery /Tan to the land-
ing. On a point where a line of tire-
less breakers marched in storm' and
sunshine there were four men carry-
ing something. A fifth followed.
Mother caught my arm.
Help me, son; I am old and tithed
you, she said. I stopped and brew
her arm through mine. When wo
reached the point they had lowered
the box into the grave, and stood
with irneoyeted heads, The fifth roan
--and ho bad a kind, handsome face
—came to use.
I --I wanted to read a prayer, lie
said brokenly: but 1 could not. Will
yonl From me it is mockery.
I took the book he handed Me; but .
1 did not know it then.
No, no, I sobbed: 1 loved her,. too.
Then it was my mother wire knelt,
whitest soul of all I ever knew, Uh,
could all sinners, Moo or tvoinen, be
cure that such an intercession would
go for them to the great Pardoner of
allwrecked li►est Could that pity be
given to .fallen sisters.in the lifel Oh,
notller heart! There is no taint 'there
-only .forgiveness and charity.
The sailors shovelled the earth fast,
o the brink, They seemed super-
stitiously eager to leave the spot.
She wicked no Ileedstone, said: the
man whore 1 intuitively knew to be
baud women, holds,
It isn't, 1 answered coldly. Sh
been here since "September and
color is yet golden,
Here all that time? Oh 1 mut
,Kitty, going down the stairs.
1 remembered the bone . Kitty
Oh 1 in. A woman is foolish
allow bad temper, especially if s
not. beautiful. I was so unhappy
fortnight, Before Kitty arr
mother and Marie came up to
tower every night to sit with
Mary like an exquisite pioture, in
blue .gown, with her rose leaf skin
her marvellous eyes. After all
years my boort goes out to
Marie 1 Marie! You were so differ
so utterly different, so foreign to
life, You came to us from the se
the sea that had bereft me, yet gi
me my bread—you. brought me so
thing out of the world barred to m
simple fisherman. You gave nt
soul. ' Deny it those who dare.
shall never, never, be a clod again,.
What Kitty Robbins told moth
. ,c,°144:t.:1 ,Asy! bat into mother's manner'
toward Marie a"x0-1 rl+rrept, t`1l. cold,
floss that comes to all good women
toward a sister who has fallen. Mrs,
long Robbins and mother bad been Iife
friends, and what the suapioious Kitty
planted ir. that kind heart .lingered.
The time passed painfully enough,
Marie growing pale and silent, Kitty
cold and proud; rarely speaking to the
stranger, 1 was glad to see Robbins
come and. Kitty go away, and it was
only when the boat was out of sight
that I remembered that I liad not.
kissed Kitty goodbye, aria everybody
said wo were to' be married in the
spring.
That night a cold wintry wind.
howled around the tower, buffeting the
wet spray in ray face when 1 opened
the door. I stepped out. In the
glare of the light I saw her—Marie—
standing looking at the gloomy: sea.
You will get your death, I said
angrily. Come in. 1 dragged her to
the fire, chafing her cold little
rands. She shivered and coughed.
1 could see through the glass that
you and your dear mother had some
rouble she said quietly. Don't
speak, Gideon. You have ink and
ens there. Will you write a letter
or me 2
I never could. Thad nti educeflon.
write like a clown. Do it yourself;
r rather, write no Ietter. You bet;;ve
aid often that you never wanted to
eave the island. You have picked
ut a spot .near the cove a where you
anted to be buried—that, *hon dead,
ou might still know of our coming
nd going. We have told you how
welcome you are, and' yet—yet you.
1k of writing, which I know means
go away.
Men could never rule me, Gideon,
ou least of'all, You, a child in
Bart and experience. Yon, tloar:son.
wish I had a brother like you, a big
rong bearded man, who would pro.
et me. Look at me kindly, G.irleon,.
t of those deep, dark eyes where 1
ri see your honest • soul.. Pity me.
iat letter is so repugnant, so dreud—,
1 to me, that 1 wish your kind hand
write it..
o I wrote : .
Bert Ju'ian:
am yet alive. Does this world
l bold you in its weary toils? At
entrance to the Sheepscot, where
e and blue, with stormy waves and
thermic' reefs, it ends its life in
ocean, is a frowning headlatrd and
wer. In Kendrick's Head Ligbt 1
o bas I dropped the paper as if it
the rale.
And you, 1 said angrily, got
tered write to your lover, Mother's
grew cold and stern,
raid -Was you meaning to go again
to him, this other one t she asked.
he is ` Yes ; there was nothing ole
that never loved biro. reear me out.
ivied 4usband followed us, found us hi
the iu a quiet seaport town. lie off
/13
a my choice of deaths—he was
the kind, you see, for he meant to Id
and unseen at first. I begged him to
the ria;'. out to sea in his yaoho, and
her. thine dark, tempestuous night to
mit, me adrift in the boat. Julian
nay not know that I bad seen my husb
a- . I stole away in the afternoon, we
von sail, and one night, far beyond Seg
Inc. my Husband set nee adrift. He int
e a. ed that the sailor's'should believe 1
e a gone. away in my sleep in the b
l
We could buy belief.
The awful creetui•' 1. said net mot
stung
me to The day of my trihulati n—her
face dear, kind heart 1—mus soon be
Pity me note—blame me,Say you
with make me happy, Don't, wring
heart by making me ea forever
0. I my coiling was a bli t --the
My will say that—and some day
dden mother, stung into anger by
erect : misery, will cry curses . n me ti
very . shall know in my grave. She clot
11 us my rough sleeyes in 1 r trenab
take fingers, Fur my sake the g
on girl who loves you happy and y
Bet mother content. Gideon, 1 shall
did suffer long. See the light through
and, hand; it looks like a dead hand
set ' Forgive . nae, forgive o, was a
uin, could say.
arid• Then, dear friend, you mother
had promised me 1 shall .have a res
oat. place out there where. th light f
where you can look downon my g
er I No, I deserved it, Marie went
di'eri:l';ly. Then he went back to.
Julian `'So: my life belongs to the rn
who was wb;;nded for me—he—lo
me, She turned, oward the door,
I saw tears in her `i:autiful eyes,
have brought shame oil '• y.upr lion
roof, betrayed your generous hos
tality. Oh, forgive me I It y puni
ment is bitter enough ; for I love y
mother. Your good word, your fai
and affection, mean more to me th
all else in life.
She went quietly down the staff
Mother had not stirred:
It's the Lord's will, said moth
softly ; it's a skein we -carni unrav
She was drove to it by ways that
oarn't fathom, Gideon, cried mothe
sharply. don't you get sot ag'in he
too. • Let's yo!t an' Inc stem t
world's tide and treat her well,
won't be for long, the sin and sorr
for her, for there is death writ in h
pretty faee. 1. fancied that bra.
small figure stemming the world's tid
Pity: for a woman from a. woman i
alas• 1 so rare, and yet so . beantifu
If Kitty won't come, she needn't
Gideon, She is a good girl, but narre
and sluncouldn't fall. We must try t
keep Marie to the end. We fetobe
her out of the sea; we mustn't let he
drown now.
There were tears in lily eyes whet
I bent and kissed my mother.
We could not persuade Marie, and
though I,knew she was' wrong, I could
not condemn her determination to do
her,ty to the man who had wrecked
his Iifez for her. Alas, I envied him
with a sullen bate.
The morning of the 26th a neat
cht's boat rowed out to the Light,
d a sailor in trim uniform hrought
otter to Marie.
Let,, him - come tci-night, she said,
ly. Is there anchorage in the river
r, 'Gideon I •
A mile tip, I answered shortly. In
wretched sleep—for I tried.to He
wn—I beard mother and Marie
king brokenly. At last darkness
ie, and 1, who had hid myself all
y, went up to the tower. Witb
ting heart 1 listened—listened for
light footstep on the attars. At
she carne, the golden cloak about
, gathering warmth and brightness
nt the light. She was very pale',
mouth drooping; her beautiful eyes
ofully sad,
climbed up, .Gideon•,eyery step a
i. They have been my Jacob's
?or, bringing me to heaven and
ce, I have been so—almost happy.
'will not forget roe. When the
t yellow eye flamer over the sea
will think of me drifting, drifting
he darkness of sin and regret as I
ied that night, 'You and your
bear will talk of nae sometimes,
for me, pity me.' She covered:
face, sobbing bitterly.
ario 1 Marie 1 I cried, stay with us
ru end., You shall. not go,
must, Oh, the folly of fools who
t sin so fair that we senseless
IS fly !tato its light as a release
trouble 1 What is there for me rn
hi to the end ? bail a taint on
? honest Borne, Do not deny it;
give inc more pain. You intuit t
t
s
S
t
s
11
w
d
0
la
a
tt
th
tau
w
er
Ch
gu
m
so
Th
hY
wl,
a
Y
e
wet in our bleak life of early toil,
a woe 40 wherr f, the last of
doad but me— was
re's a spook nut there like it boat,
stopping to kiss her. Before
to bed I'll look again. There
naety 6Cd last night.
he lord pity the &Were at eel'
ad mother,: thinking of that
eck offeieguiii. She paired my
fidgeted about nwhile, then
to her bedroom, She came back
11 just go back, dearie. I like to
love,
She grew well rapidly, and that 11(>.,.
ht came Up into the tower tO see
light the lamp, She 'watched a t'h"e'
Idle and then she said, quietly:
wid
Out in' the dark sea last night I salt, trot,.
is great yellow eye. It gob me tile
eeurage and faith. I prayed for the to
first time in many, many years. I hay
was quite content' dien, buttexcept for woe
knowing you two good people, I would tow
rather have been decd.
But you are so yowl% and talk that 0
vray,1 .said awkwardly, tsurely life and
has not been so hard to you. as a
As kind as the light to the little said
hit*, she muttered,. as a, tiny black your
otdeet etruea with met force against me.
the It has broken my heart. nh
I am not young, Mr. Gideon ; lent as hold
old as you, 2f3„ Your mother told and
1
sat
cleat
er waiting for you.
no day a letter eanie for Marie,
that night she crime to the tower
suet with mother. Gideon, she
, read the letter aloud ; yon and
moiler twist know the went of
o stood away from mother's chair
ing a tiny hand between her face
the lamp,
have no right to read your letter,
d, rudely.
ead it ! and 1-1 obeyed.
win 111.trat, — 1 lutes been at
Ws door for two MOUthe but ant
toe about you. Ab, it is worth all td
the reorcite eir front the tower, know her. The only spring of pure
lawfal me! ef there should be it water 1 have known in my desero. ,
hiopan creetmr adrift out II)Orel Marie—she would tell me no 0-ther
>lean! think of her prayers name—was nt mother's, side an
hours of watching nights weys, followiog her about hire a child
teat t
. now recovered. He wag 01111Ult unary the good girl from tho Bey, and
s terms lour arotind our Maher Seenled hoWitolted as welt. hall come for you, weather pennit• make her yonr mother happy.
ned, wh'011 laiat from the Seeing thatiAlatee was de1.eate, she till and bre:,,,,vi favor ble, the 2131.11 of 1 will not. Yo 9:1 to wfi"g thY
is like a terinws rain. $lbe hPi. daily deoodicilis, Wag her Dtembere heart, Marie, Y
her, and pity nae. Nights when you
on, all alone my wraith shall come
kill keep you couipany,
an That night she went away w
lies Julian.
but In the spring I marriedKitty.
g have tried to' be good and kind, a
est she and mother love eachother.
pi..myself have in the years won peace
sh- heart from duty faithfullyperform.
ort, and the self sacrifice that one but t
th martyr himself knows, There is b
en one thing more.
It was a foggy night: in June, a
rs, feverish and weary I walk the b
cony to keep awake. I had rot
er Kitty over to the bay that afternoo
el. as her father was ill. 1 wa ed up an
we down thinking of her memory—Mari
r, Behind me was the blur of golde
r, light, before ine a thick gray. Th
he sea sobbed and seethed below, wh
It vibrating in the deadened air sounde
sr the solemn tones of the foghorn o
er far Seguin.
qa
an
a1
sad
flea
my
sal
can
da
bea
her
last
know I love one J
en illy in ad the Be U./toed to nit threr, 1 Umiak you,
uhan. She said pei would. know.