Bequeathed Mid-Ocean and Won the Hearts of All of Those ... · PDF fileO’ER Bath’s fair city shone the noon’s hot ... To se e her husband thus in leadi ... The last sweet...

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ER Bath ’ s fair city shone the noon ’ s hot sun !Christina Bruce her rest had just begun ,

When t o her room a postal message came! rom her brave husband , Captain Bruce of fame .H i s ship , the Perseverance , his command,Had during las t night safely reached the land .She read the written words with puzzled look ,And fast as ide she cast her favoured book .

‘What can he mean ? ’ as reading them againShe hope s to !solve the riddle , but in vain .

‘Expect me home to-night ,— the train to meetArrives at seven , and with a stranger, sweet ,I come . ’ Strange , very strange , Christina thought ,And with fast ris ing jealous feelings fought .The tra in she met , and much she wondered then.To see the Captain , brave st , be st o f men ,Forth bearing in his arms a l ittle childWith wrappings rich and eye s o f hazel mild .

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A fairy, golden-headed thing o f threeWhose fondness for the Captain al l might see .The greetings o ’er, —by eager questions pl iedThe Captain thus unto his wife repl ied‘Christina

,dear ! I cannot tel l you much .

Her mother ’ s dead,wil l you to her be such ?

Give her a mother ’ s love and tender care ,She ’ l l chee r OWhome and spread contentment there .

I S

Bequeathed M id-OceanHer hist ’ry must remain for sometime dark !A sacre d trust i s she ! My words you ’ l l mark !Christina ’ s gentle heart felt strangely sore ,Her husband ’ s secrets she had shared before ,But to his wil l she bowed with pat ient grace ,And kindly k i s sed the little one ’ s fair face .Arrived at home , the baby girl soon showedOn whom her adorat ion was bestowed !She nestled near the Captain , and was pre stWith longing fondness to that good man ’ s breast .But to hi s wi fe ’ s true eye a tear it bringsTo se e her husband thus in leading stringsO f this fair maid o f only summers three

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Whose birth and parentage revealed not he !But stil l she loved the child , and for her cared .

As t ime went on , and she became preparedFor al l the changing scenes her l i fe now he ld ,May be her anxi ous heart full o ft rebel led’Gainst seeming lack o f confidence in herBy one whose courage , t ruth , and l ove could stirThe highest feel ings in her woman ’ s breast .But yet she knew that what he did was best !Some reasons good mayhap he surely hadFor holding back thi s secret , doubtles s sad .The only fact that she had ever gleanedWas , that , with trust upon her husband leanedThe lady-mother o f the l ovely child ,Who died mid-ocean , fe el ing reconciledTo her sad fate , when to thi s noble manShe to ld her tale of wrongs and sorrow wan !And left her child , a sacred charge to him .

This was Chri st ina ’ s knowledge— somewhat d im .

Time sped . The l itt le Oriana grew ,I4

Bequeathed M id-Ocean

And won the hearts of al l o f those she knew .

Her bril l iance and beguil ing ways were suchThat charmed al l who came with her in touch .

A peerle ss pearl in shining shel l she seemed ,Or glist ’ning star removed from clouds , one deemedHer so , or like the wild free music o f the larkThat heavenwards soared from out the dewy park .

She grew apa ce . The Captain , not at sea!He ’d sent hi s papers in t o be more freeTo tend hi s ward— his fair adopted child!And many an hour with her he had beguiled .

He was her teacher, guide and guardian al l ,. And ever answered to her childish cal l .The youngest son of eight was Captain Bruce ,For which his name Octavius was excuse .His brothers all had been of worth and rank ,And now into the Si lent Land had sank .

In private l i fe Octavius was knownAs one of culture , and had lately grownMore fond of Art and Mus ic than of yore .One friend— the old viol in— he did adore ,And to the ears of Oriana fairPlayed softly many a sweet enthrall ing air .The child ’ s rich soul was stirred with sacred fireBy the dream melod ies he did inspire .Time went like this so smoothly for a space

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But perfect peace is not for human race .One morn , while s itt ing at their pleasant meal ,Dark threat ’ning cloud s o ’er their horizon steal !Beside hi s place the Captain ’ s letters lay

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And carelessly he opened them this day ,

But one , alas ! soon blanched his face and l ipSent by the owners o f his previous ship .

I S

Bequeathed M id-OceanEnclosed by them , but bore an Indian stamp ,At sight o f whi ch the Captain’ s brow grew damp .

‘Pray, forward to the captain in commandO f ship The Perseverance , leaving landCalcutta ’ s coast— on date the so-and-so .

’

This letter read he , and then let it go .

O ’er hi s brave face a breath of fear had passed ,He ki s sed the chi ld and bade her go at last !Then , turning to his anxious wife , he said‘Christ ina , l ove , be thou not so afraid ,But spare me time to talk thi s matter out .A serious danger threatens without doubtOur l ittle ward , and we must safe ly takeHer to a sheltered home that we must make .Dear wife , grieve not o ’er thi s , your sacrifice ,The good reward that fo llows wil l suffice .

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With patient face and eyes fast dimmed with tearsChri stina l i stened to her husband ’ s fears .And p layed her part with usual grace and tactTo help her husband in hi s kindly act .Their stay in Bath was ended with al l spee d ,Leaving behind no faintest trace indeed .

THE waves were playing o ’er the silv’

ry strand ,B lending their music with the distant bandWhose mellow strains rose from Llandudno pier

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And note s of harmony fell on the ear .There seemed a mantle full o f evening songFlung round ‘Great Ormes ’ from varied

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minglingthrong,

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Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd from that headland vastly tal l and grandVibrate melodious echoes to the strand .

The rosy light s upon its lo fty peakFlash back the dying sun ’ s last ling ’

ring streak .

The swel l ing clouds look down with gilded fold ,Reflecting in the water shades of gold .

Fearless sea-birds with grace ful motion skimO ’er the wide space of boundless ocean grim .

On thi s sweet eve in early summer timeWhen Nature ’ s happy smile was mo st sublime ,Stood musing by the sea a little girl ,Watching the playful wavelets dance and whirl .A child was she with face o f angel light ,With golden hair, and robed in purest white ,Tall for her age , for it was barely nine ,O f form so elegant , and breeding fine .A rock i s near her torn by tempest ’ s wear,Familiar figures twain are re sting there ,The man so noble -l ike , with striking mien ,Born to command— in him may soon be seenOur gal lant sailor friend , good Captain B ruce ,Who with his anx ious fears had made a truce ,And near thi s Welsh resort had found retreatWithin the sound of hi s love d bil low ’ s beat .His gentle wi fe sit s calmly by his s ide ,Pale as of yore and more beatified .

See l Now they ri se from their rough, rocky seat ,And cal l their chi ld , whose j oy i s then complete .Onward they go towards their new-found home ,A villa fine in grounds so sweet to roam .

Months pas sing s ix has been their sojourn here,

‘Mayvil le ’ to them is fast becoming dear,A fa irer spot than thi s ’twere hard to find ,

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Bequeathed M id-OceanAn exi le so imposed they need not mind .

Alas ! a day of grie f was coming fast ,When sweet Chri stina would be of the past !Her health , a source o f anxious care at best ,Completely bre aks , and she i s laid to restIn sti l l God ’ s acre , where the ocean ’ s sprayMay bathe with briny tears the spot one day .Her work on earth is o ’e r, her spiri t calmHas passe d beyond , l ike some sweet angel ’ s p salm .

Her gentle tenderness and loving de edsRema in as sacred plants amidst earth ’ s weeds .The Captain and the child are now alone ,Each for the other ’ s lo s s trie s to atone ,By thoughtful l ove , and many a kindly act ,Their sympathy is shown with heart felt tact .The Captain ‘now begins t o sow the seedOn which hi s ward ’ s pure mind and soul shall feed !He felt as i f she were a t iny barkHe was about to float on ocean darkOu l i fe ’ s great ocean— and he pledged his wordTo keep he r white sail s pure whate ’er occurred .Unique of plan the Captain ’ s methods prove ,And neighbours shake their heads , and di sapproveO f the eccentri c teaching he imparts .He shields her from the sting of worldly dart s !He meant to make o f her, ’ ti s understood ,Ideal type o f pe rfect womanhood !Her l i fe he guard s as i f in clo ister ’ s shade ,No taint o f outward sin on her i s madeA pure and healthy l i fe she leads each dayRemoved from worldly intercourse , we say .

The Captain was her teacher, k ind and true ,And proud he was o f hi s apt pupil too .

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Bequeathed M id-OceanIn gloam ing of an early Autumn ’ s day,A sacred hour they ’re whil ing thus away !The last sweet echoes on our ears just stealO f the soft strains o f l oved ‘Land of the Leal ’Which O riana ’ s sweet young voice had tri lled ,The touching notes the Captain ’ s heart had thril led .

And now as the last note fades to the earHe cal l s her to hi s side , thi s child so dear,And with a vo ice sad with emotion says !‘My child , thy song , the sweetest of al l lays ,Reminde th me how brief indeed ’ s the spanBetwe en that Angel Land and mortal man !I ’m nearing fast , my darling child , I feelThat land you s ing o f— that ‘Land of the Leal . ’My very l i fe you ’ve been , my heart ’ s ful l j oy .

In saddest moments thou my fa ith didst buoy .

I f I have e rred in keeping you apartFrom other girls , and all the worldly art ,Unfitt ing you , perhaps , t o cope aloneWith jarring world , oh ! l et thi s fact atoneThat i f your l i fe I ’ve pi loted amissDeep Love was at the helm , remember this ,And promise me you ’ l l come to that fair landWith same white s oul , and same pure heart andhand .

Your future I ’ve provided for as farAs in my pow ’

r, and may no troubles marYour li fe , when I , borne to that distant shore ,Have left you on the strand with feel ings sore .In May next year you wil l be twenty-one ,But ere that time perchance I may have gone .In yonder cedar desk of mine you ’ l l findMy wishe s , dear, but know I do not bind

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Bequeathed M id-OceanYou to them , i f incl ined you are to goInto the world it s gait ies to know .

In that desk also pape rs wil l relateThe hist ’ry sad of your poor mother ’ s fate .Hitherto , my child , the waters have been smooth ,But should a storm ari se you cannot soothe

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Cal l out with al l the power of your strong faithTo that Great Pilot who can save from scathe . ’While thus the Captain spoke , the maiden wept ,The truth , so bitter, to her mind had crept .Alas ! that she should have to part with him ,

Her loved and best, indeed a prospect grim .

Cheer up , young heart , l ook not at facts thro ’ tears ,Bear wel l thy part and banish usele ss fears .

Months passed , and al l the dread o f painful changeWhich troubled O riana , now seemed strange .The Captain grew more strong, and almost gay,As thro ’ the same routine they went each day .

But one day came , and with it i ll s did bringThe Captain ’ s s ick , -his angel ’ s

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on the wingTending and watching him with anxious care ,But for the worst she could not yet prepare .Alarm she felt , to see prostrated soThe deare st friend on earth that she ’d e ’

er know .

He wished for naught , but only to l ie sti l l ,And hold hi s precious darling ’ s hand at will !At dusk he turned a loving look t o castOn her sweet face , and weary said at last !‘My dearie

,bring the old vi olin and play

The lul laby which I have loved each day .

’

Settl ing him with a k i s s , she soon obeyed ,And brought the old viol in , and softly playedThe dreamy music they so loved to hear

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Bequeathed M id-OceanAt eventide , the hour to them so dear .She wandered on until at last ‘Farewell ’Seemed on her instrument the words to tell

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‘Farewel l , ’ farewell i s a lonely word ,And always brings a sigh

But give to me when loved ones partThat sweet old word , ‘Good-bye . ’

Asleep he seemed , she sitting now quite sti l l ,Afraid hi s s lumbers to disturb unti lS i lence prolonged , a chi l l sent to her heart ,She softly crossed the room a light to start ,Then looking on the dearest face on earthHer heart grew cold , and chil led her breath at birth .

The spir ’t ’ s serenade in it s lofty flightTo confines o f that unknown world o f l ightWas what her playing of ‘Farewel l ’ had meant ,This now she knew as o ’er hi s form she bent !The heart that had so loved had ceased to throb ,Hushed for al l t ime the voice that Death did rob ,The Captain had his cable s lipped at darkOn his long lone ly voyage to embark .

No scene did Oriana make , but feltThe world stand st il l a s ’twere , and low she knelt .Her heart a deep and mighty love had held ,And now o

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e rwhelm ing sorrow it had felled !But sti ll she ro se majestic in her griefAnd gave her needful orders calm and brie f .Her fina l vis it t o that sacred shel lWhich late had held the soul she loved so wel lShe paid , the night before that last sad actPerformed should be , —and with a tender tactThe shroud she raised , and laid the old violinTo rest for aye— poor lonely heroine !

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Bequeathed M id-OceanThe morrow ’ s painful orde al soon has passed ,And Oriana ’ s left alone at last !She kneel s again in that deserted room ,

And yields hersel f to cold de spair and gloom ,

Anon she rai sed her head , with eyes intent ,They on his portrait on the wall now bent ,‘Naught but a memory now is le ft , ’ she sighs ,‘But, oh , how blest a memory to prize !

THE primal plants are springing from their beds ,The modest snowdrops bow their virgin headsBefore the grand awak’

ning touch of SpringNow hast ’ning over earth , new life t o bring ,The cloud of gri e f on O riana ’ s skyWith ling ’

ring darkness slowly passe s by !Her one great star had gone , ala s ! for aye ,And sadly o ’er her los s she mourned each day .

Alone she stands in that old ‘Mayville ’ roomWhere la‘st we saw her stricken low with gloom ,

Her white robe , semblance o f the s oul within ,Enfolds a form that taintle s s i s from sin !She ’ s deep in thought— and noble dreams sheweaves .

Her soul ’ s on fire , and see ! her bosom heaves !Dreams for the future she i s weaving now .

Her l i fe work planned , and with an earnest vowHer l i fe she consecrate s , and its best gi fts ,To noble work , and so her mind upl i ft s !Her studies she pursues with aim in view ,And from the higher source s thus she drew

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Bequeathed M id-OceanRich draught s o f lasting comfort t o her mind !In Music and in Art was hers to findA fort ’gainst lone liness and pining thought !And each day with incessant care she wrought .A picture ’ s on her studio easel thereThat speaks the Art ist ’ s skil l and taste ful careGreat thought and pains for hours on it she spends,And hopes reward to reap when work she ends .With her own home she i s contented yet ,Though many friendly overture s she ’ s met !The Vicar, anx i ous for thi s strange lone girl ,Tri ed kindly to approach her and unfurlWise schemes , and exhortations triedTo bring her from seclusion , but defiedHe sadly le ft her to her own sweet will ,Which led her on to good and not to il l .Her sole companion was her faithful dogWith whom she held a daily dialogue .Dash— a fine col l ie— was a hero braveWho ’d saved a t iny child from watery grave .Thi s faithful dog our Oriana had ,He cheered her now in many moments sad ,With Dash she stroll ed along the rocky shore ,Delighting oft in the wild bil lows ’ roar,Dash was a swimmer strangely strong and goodRiv

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lling his mi stress , who when in the moodEnjoyed thi s pastime ,

and wel l could she swim ,

For many le ssons she had had from himHer loved lo st Teacher, and proud he had be enO f thi s accomplishment o f hers , I ween .

The picture- her creation— now i s done ,And p lace in the Academy has won .

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Bequeathed M id-OceanThe Captain had foretold that thi s might beI f hard she worked . So diligently sheHad done her best , and now with swell ing heartHer j oy ’ s marred only, he can take no partIn her first triumph,— and more j oy anonWhen she i s told her p icture ’ s bought by oneWho wishe s for another from her brush .Delightful feel ings through her mind did rush,For with the price her one idea wasTo help her protégé ’ s— bl ind Phil ip ’ s cause .This poor boy l ive s in that cot by the seaWith widowed mother— talented i s he .In music he ’d excel with training ’ s aid ,Thi s he shall have has Oriana said .

Late Spring arrived, and for health ’ s benefitTo fair Llandudno ’ s strand we now admitCount Stani slaus Jablonski— high-bred PoleWho having heard strange tale s o f her, oft stoleBy ‘Mayville ’ s ’ gate t o watch the owner fairTo fav’

rite arbour with her dog repair .The myst ’ry hal o round thi s fair young maidBewitching study to hi s mind conveyed !With women fair much intercourse he ’d had ,Some to the ir sorrow— heart less he and bad ,And now he works himsel f to '

fever heatTo know thi s girl so difli cult to meet .Rumour proclaimed her not the Captain ’ s chi ldBut heires s she to lands and honours piled !Moreo

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er, her grace and peerle s s beauty stirredHis shal low heart— conceit and boldness spurredHim on , and oftent imes with art ful heedHis stroll s in her vicinity him lead .The noble coll ie he perchance would meet

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Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd friendly try to be with him— a featHe ne ’er accomplished— for in praise absurdDa sh smelt hypocrisy in every word .

But fortune smiled on him one pleasant mornWhen on hi s usual pilgrimage forlornHe lo itered on past ‘Mayvil le ’ s ’ garden wall ,Lo ! at the gate there stood its mistress tall ,He raised hi s hat , thus meeting face to face ,She smiled to him and bowed with queenly grace .Her dog he praised , and sli ly lured her onTo talk o f him and the brave deed he ’d done .She artle ssly extolled a picture trueO f rescued child and dog the Captain drew .

The bold Count hoped tne picture he might see ,And she , with thoughts from all deceit so free ,Accorded him his wish , and led him inTo her most sacred sanctum , thus to winFor him his heart ’ s de sire— a foot ing ga inedWith her— for sake o f whom his heart had pained .

He praise s much the picture and departs ,Triumphant joy within hi s heart now start s ,He feel s that he has gained hi s point at lastAnd swi ftly nail s hi s colours t o the mast ,Only to have them torn in shreds , alas !And scattere d to the winds— a sl ighted mas s .

Expect ing now an entrance there to ga in ,For days he called at ‘Mayvil le , ’ but in vain .

Smarting beneath the utter disregardHis proud attent ions met with a s reward ,He now re solved to let hi s fair one seeA Polish Count may not rej ected be .With boldness therefore he approached once more ,The treatment cold rece iving as before ,

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Bequeathed M id-OceanHe ste rnly told the serving maid to goAnd tel l her mistress he would wait belowUntil she deigned hi s urgent suit to hear .This message caused our Oriana fear,She left her easel— cast her brush aside ,But reeked not she what would so soon bet ide !Into the p resence of the Count she wentHer radiant beauty through his form sentA thri l l o f j oy, ye t ,

not unmixed with pain ,For doubtful he i f hi s great end he ’d gain !His face , so handsome , wore a troubled look,H i s haughty pride entirely him forsook .

‘Good morning , Count ! No tidings bad , I hope ? ’‘Ah , yes ! Woe ’ s me ! My news indeed might copeWith saddest tale that thy sweet ears have metAnd made those l iquid eyes a tear beget .My star ! My heart i s broken— torn with loveFor ! OU I love , I worship you above ,Sweet peerle s s one— above al l things in l i feWil l you my Countess be— my honoured wife ?I p lace my broken heart now at thy feet !Stoop , fai r one , stoop , and show it p ity meet . ’Poor Oriana , speechless with surpri se ,Sat faintly stil l , and then at last rep l ied‘Sad, sad , I am , oh , Count ! that thi s should be ,Try to forgi ve ,and to forget poor me !! Mayville ! I ’ l l never leave nor marry ever .Say you ’ l l me forgive , e ’er thus we sever . ’A savage gleam shone in the Count ’ s bold eye ,‘I say you shal l do both , ’ was his reply .With dignity o f an o ff ended queenShe hastened now to end this painful scene .‘Like freez ing snow you are , ’ he fiercely hissed ,

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Bequeathed M id-Ocean‘But my heart ’ s fire you cannot long re sist . ’He goes . Again , alone we see her standStunned— as from blow of an unseen hand .Ins ight sufficient hers to let her knowN0 heart pangs she had giv’

n— but made a foe .Alarmed felt she that scenes l ike these might marThe l i fe she had mapped out ahead afar .More cause for fear would hers have beento dreadCould she but hear the vows the Pole now made .Llandudno ’ s coast he left without delay,But no farewel l to her came he to say .

To one of Mayfair’ s stately mansion homesOur friend the Pol i sh Count now speed ’ ly comes ,There to confide his troubles o f defeatTo his most chosen fri end— a rogue complete ,Who bore an Hon

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rble prefix to his nameWhich ably he had tried to bring to shame .Fitzgerald l i stened to a long tirade ,Regarding beauty of some rust ic maid ,At least so did the first impression seem ,

But further deta i l s hearing, made him deemThat beauty, music , art , combined had placeIn thi s fair vi sion that the Count did trace ,Crowned by the fact that she was quite aloneWithout a guardian , friend , or chaperon .

With languid dignity Fitzgerald roseAnd suavely thus did he a plan propose‘Take heart , my fri end , your charming prize secure !I have a plan by which the prospect ’ s sure !

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Bequeathed M id-OceanMy yacht , the S tella, now for cruis ing bound,Will visit first the coast o f Wale s around

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To fair Llandudno she with speed wil l hail,

And soon land in the bay with fav’

ring gale !Together we shal l go

,my Count

,and try

I f this fair charmer can our wile s defy .But sti ll another reason , I confes s ,Attracts me to that spot with force no less ,A bri l l iant art i st the re I hope to greet!Whose picture I have bought! and long to meet ,A woman rare , I fancy she must be ,Her picture i s so striking, you wil l see . ’‘The name ? ’ the Count inquires in eager tones ,And when he ’ s told , the case he then bemoansThis gay man o f the world an interest hadIn her- his heart ’ s de sire— the thought was sad .

Sweet Oriana live s her old free l i fe ,Weaving her future dreams unm ixed with stri fe ,The Count ’ s aff air she ’ s banished from her mind ,Past al so May, with no attempt to findHer sacred secret in the cedar de sk !T

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unearth it yet seemed but to her grotesque ,So sti l l in bli s s o f ignorance she dreamsAnd light reflected from her Lost Star gleams .One sunny mom , in peaceful happy mood,Enjoying Nature ’ s charm , there she stood ,The fragrant breath of buds from bushes rareThe songs o f birds pervading all the air.

On such a mom as Eden first saw dawn ,Such was her thought , as standing on her lawnShe drank of Nature ’ s sweet serenest draught ,

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Bequeathed M id-Ocean

Her very voice recal led sad tones o f woeFrom ne ’er-to-be - forgotten long ago ,This dark page from his l i fe could not be hurledWith riche st di ssipat ion in the world ,Lighting it now afresh with vivid rayWas thi s fair girl he came but t o betray .Himsel f excusing for hi s fixed stare ,He hastene d now with courte sy and careTo prai se her work and lead her on to tel lO f her affairs and al l that her be f el .Impressed was he by much that had occurredAnd cursed his luck for having pledged his wordTo Stanisl aus Jablonski , his young friend ,That fair or foul , whichever means to end ,She should on board the S tella be thi s nightThis sweet young girl so innocent and bright .His word , however, must not broken be .To Oriana thus he spoke with glee‘A charming party does my yacht contain ,To sail t o-morrow mid-day we are fainNow ere I go your promise you wil l pl ightTo dine at seven on board with us to -night .Poor Oriana ’ s wish was but t o p leaseHer valued patron . So with greatest easeFitzgerald had his wish— her promise givenTo j oin his party on the yacht at seven ,‘And ‘B ring your dog ’ he says as he depart s !‘That noble colli e— he wil l win the heart sO f a ll my friends ! on that you may rely .

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Acceptance quick for Dash was her reply .With inward chuck le at his own success ,Fitzgerald onwards to the bay did press ,And Oriana , rest le ss and alone ,

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Bequeathed M id-OceanWished earnestly her visit o ’er and done !Yet no regret she felt , but happ ier grew,As of her work she thought and orders newFor two more p ictures had she in request ,And this her heart had fi l led with li fe and zest !Meanwhile the two dark plotters on the yachtArranging were fulfi lment o f their p lot ,Vast preparations were then being madeOn board a lady to rece ive

,and paid

Due courte sy al l honour and re spect .Orders the crew had given them to expectTo sail that very e ’en ’mid the repast ,And for a week the anchor not to cast .At punctual t ime our heroine arrived ,And Dash , who showed he little j oy derived !Fitzgerald , handing her aboard , now ledHer to the table . Languidly he said‘The absence o f al l ladies pray excuse ,And take this seat , you may not wel l re fuseOn your left hand that vacant place observe ,I for a cheri shed friend o f yours reserveThe Court Jablonsk i s it s on your le ft hand ,H i s services he yields at your command .

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Pale to the lips our Oriana grew ,Cold too her heart , calamity anew ,Se emed nearing her, a something undefinedTo happen soon which must have been designed .

Erect and dignified , she said with heat‘Sir, Count Jablonsk i I re fuse to meet !Have me now put ashore at once , I plead ,So that I may escape from him with speed .

’

The Hon’

rable Lovel l without a wordEnded this scene he deemed to be absurd !

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Bequeathed M id-OceanWith no desire to grant her begged-for boonHe led he r quickly to a small sal oon ,Where , face to face , she met her dreaded foe .Her heart now sank with terror and with woe .

‘All ’ s fair in love and war, ’ Fitzgerald cried ,‘Fair maid , the part I ’ve played excuse , ’ he sighe d !‘The lady now is yours my Polish friend ,To have and hold right onward to the end . ’In vain did Oriana plead to go !A special l icence did the Count now show ,Devotion , t oo , unheard of did he urge ,As in his heart the ri sing feelings surge .Attempt he even made to touch her hand ,But faithful Dash made him aside t o stand !Fitzgerald , thinking it ful l t ime to endThis oddly new experience o f hi s friend ,‘My child , ’ said he , ‘we sail in hal f-an-hour !You know you are entirely in our power .Marry the Count , and we shal l shortly landThat purpose to fulfi l at your command !Refuse hi s wish— then you wil l surely findWe sail until you do make up your mindTo be the wife o f one o f high degreeA poor ship captain ’ s daughter should agree . ’With flashing eyes poor Oriana turnedAnd faced him there , and his vile o ff e r spurned ,But very soon the scorn died from her faceAs far across the wave s she looked in space .Her eyes , grown wistful , fi l led with unshed tears ,Her form so graceful quivered now with fears !She turned aga in and to Fitzgerald said !‘Know once for all , thi s man I ’ l l never wed !Let me retire I beg you with al l might

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Bequeathed M id-OceanI pity and forgive you for thi s night . ’Pleased with the hopeful turn the case now took ,No oppos it ion to her wish they brook !Then to her cabin speedily she was shown

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And grate ful was she to be thus alone !Low bending on her knee s wi th earnest prayers ,She begs t o foil the wile s o f her betrayers .At last she rose refre shed anew with strength ,And list

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ned hard for sounds , and heard at lengthLoud laughter and much talk ful l o ft as loud ,Then haste and noisy bustl e of a crowd .

‘Now, opportune ’ s the t ime , ’ was her glad thought ,‘Engaged are all , the moment ’ti s I sought , ’To Dash she gave grave orders to be sti l l ,And her example fol low with a will .S i lently the yacht ’ s s ide then they cleared ,And batt l ing with the waves they soon appeared .

To youthful soul s thi s l i fe i s passing sweet ,And Oriana felt it strongly meetTo fight for it— so struck off to the shore .I f strengt h shou ld fai l , ten thousand times and moreShe ’d rather sink beneath the bil low ’ s mightThan pris’ner be of base men for a night .The di stant l ights she saw upon the shore ,Receding seemed they from her more and more !Then al l her former sense o f feeling seemed but lost ,She knew not where nor thither she .was tossed,And when at last to consciousness she wokeShe heard the town ’ s clock strike , and ten thestroke .

On pebble s dry she lay with Da sh beside ,For he had been her saviour from the tide .Brave , noble dog , thi s useful l i fe he ’d saved ,

C 33

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd dangers of the treach’

rous ocean braved .

Thus wet and numbed , poor Oriana woke ,And to her feet she staggered as she spokeHer gratitude to Him who rules the wavesAnd listens to the cry for help and savesAt least her l i fe had saved -the Unseen HandHad to her rescue come , and safe t o landHad brought her ! but a shock her mind sustainedThat men should be so vi le , she , strangely pained ,Owned that her fa ith in l iving man had gone ,Naught ever could for thi s dread night atone .

THE morn succeeding Oriana ’ s fl ight,

Thro ’ the cold wave s that memorable night,

Fitzgera ld and the Count with pleasure satTheir déjeuné enj oying on the yacht ,Fast comes an interruption to their ease ,Their selfi sh sat is faction could not plea se .Informed are they their captive ’ s cabin ’ s bare ,No canine occupant nor fair one ’ s there !Explore they now the yacht , w ith faces pale ,No trace can there be found , all searches fail ,So to the one conclus ion fast they comeThat the cold waves have now become her home .The Count , distracted , l ongs for Poli sh land ,And soon is put a shore on Dover ’ s strand ,Grieving his los s he forthwith soon did makeHi s way to Le thuania, and forsakeThe scene o f al l his troubles and remorse ,His fate he sadly thought could not be worse .

34

Bequeathed M id -OceanThe Honourable Fitzgerald drank more wine ,His conscience seared made him nowise repine ,But o f his floating re s idence he grewMore tired each day , and for excitement newHe craved , and so with speed to Pari s hePushed on , and soon his chosen friends he met ,Who urged him hard his dul lness to forget .By diss ipation ’ s smil ing phantom draughtThey tried to cheer hi s spirit , but thi s craftFor him had lost its cunning ! cold unrestWas him o

’

ermast’

ring fast ,— a load now prestOn his cold cal lous heart , quite unexpla inedHis nerves were losing strength , and mem

’

ry painedThe sweet pure face o f that young girl he thoughtHad by a wat ’ry grave her freedom bought ,Now hourly haunted him with gloomy force ,And mem ’

ry guided to another source ,Her voice e ’en now recalled to him a sceneThat by an Indian bungalow had been !The words seemed clearly ringing in his earsThat uttered were that night o f long past years‘May God do so to thee and l ikewise more .‘For thi s base wrong I e ver must deplore .Great heavens ! ’ he cried , ‘that wrong I wouldretrieve !

A woman grand was she , I now perceive .

This girl her s i ster twin wel l might have been ,So much al ike were they I truly ween,

And both have found repose in ocean ’ s grave ,To morbid thoughts I ’m fast becoming s lave . ’Soli loqu i s ing thus Fitzgerald grewMore weirdly tired o f l i fe , and longed anewFor change o f scene , his peace of mind had fled ,

35

Bequeathed M icLOcean

The echoing crimes of years to thi s had led .

We see him rich in homes and old estates,

A favoured mortal o f the smiling Fates !But such indeed had not been always so

,

For when to India he went years agoA poor man he with little prospects too

,

With tastes extravagant , and debts that grew .

His private income and hi s soldier ’ s payWere nought to him to l ive in such a way !But troubling matters he o ’

ercame at lastBy wedding one of Parsee noble casteA handsome woman she , —with ri ches rare ,Who loved him well and gave him ample shareO f her rupee s , o f which with greedy clutchHe took , —and her, poor thing , neglected much .

They had been married passing not a yearWhen Lovel l summoned was t o England here !His aged father had from li fe just passed ,And hom ewards now he had to hasten fast .With leave o f absence eas i ly obtained ,He , l ittle caring how his wi fe was pained ,Bade her good-bye , and to her promised nowThat he their secret marriage would avow !And she in England soon , with bearing calm ,

Would make to it s Great Queen her first salaam .

A mother soon expected she to be ,And so imposs ible was it that she ,Should at the present time accompany him .

So,woman-l ike , her eyes with tears ful l d im ,

She knelt and kissed his feet , and softly prayed ,That those dear feet might never stray, then laidHer tender lips upon each hand , and hopedThat they ne ’er stained should be . Her love shecoped .

36

IN one of England ’ s midland countie s stoodA stately home ’mid acre s broad and good .

Afar wa s f amed thi s Gresford Priory fair,

And its proud owners with their noble a i r .

The Vivians had owned it to thi s dateFor decades , and had kept it up with state .

Sir Poyntz , the present owner, now was old ,And rich he wa s in honours and in gold !When his time came to throw off mortal co ilHis daughter Edith would posse s s the soil .The cheri shed idol o f hi s heart was she ,And fi l led hi s home with light and j oyous glee .

No small grie f was it to thi s grand old man

That hi s fa ir daughter, who ’d so wel l beganTo fi l l the vacant place her mother left ,Would shortly leave him with his home bereft .Her heart , alas ! had been too freely givenTo his mo st gracele s s nephew , who had strivenFor her, and of her lands to make quite sureThe promi se o f her hand he held secure .O ’er this S ir Poyntz did o ft in secret groan ,And perverse nature o ftentimes bemoan .

But bl i ss ful hopes sweet Edith ’ s heart surround ,For now her lover ’ s ship i s homeward bound .

Deep love and reverence was her father ’ s due ,And this she gave with fi l ial heart most true .

But for her lover adoration rare4 1

Bequeathed M id-OceanFilled her young heart tho ’ sti l l not unawareO f many pe ccadi llo s he ’d possessed ,But stil l as hero he her mind obsessed .

’Tis woman ’ s way ! for lukewarm love , she poursRound the unworthy obj ect she adore sHer l i fe ’ s best love — Each fibre of her soulWas wound round him , and her exi stence wholeDepended on the meagre love he spared ,And little thought that i l l she fared .In t ime the news of Lovell ’ s landing cameAnd Edith ’ s heart grew warm with Hope ’ s bright

flame .But days passed by, and he in London stayed !Then she , poor girl , grew troubled and dismayed .

At last at Gres ford Pri ory he appeared ,And Edith blamed hersel f for having fearedNeglect from him , her own true hero loverBut with her fears dispersed , her hopes recover .Her welcome proved to him her deep devotion ,But of her noble soul he ’d scarce a notion .

Stil l even his slow conscience smote him nowThat he t o her had made a faithless vow .

Time too was passing and he full wel l knewThe thoughts that in the mind of Edith grew .

Sir Poyntz too wondered why he so delayedAnd no impatience for the goal betrayed !Lovell ’ s goal o f bl i s s , so did the father think ,Would be when Fate did he and Edith l inkIn bonds o f marriage ! but he l ittle guessedThe agony o f mind his guest pos ses sed .

He longed at time s the better part to act ,And let this regal woman know the factThat he no longer claim had to her hand ,

42

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd that his vows had written been on sand .

So ran his thoughts at summer twil ight t ime,

Standing ’midst cherished beds o f flowers subl ime ,Upon the Priory he then cast hi s eyeAnd its fair splendour made him deeply sigh .

His teeth he ground and muttered , ‘No , by heaven ,From heritage like thi s I ’ l l not be driven .

This princely mansion with its acre s broadI ’ l l not renounce , but banish wil l the loadO f thi s remorse that troubles now my mind ,And hasten in fa ir Edith there to find ,And settle once for al l the doubtful point ,And with the oil o f flatt ery anointHer queenly head , nought e lse have I to give . ’Why are such men , I a sk , allowed to l ive ?Luck favoured him for thro ’ the hall there rangThe ri ch contralto notes o f one who sang !’Twas Edith in her boudoir passing time ,Refreshing thus her soul with music ’ s chime .As the last echo softly died awayA thri l l o f pleasure , l ike the sun ’ s clear ray,Passed o ’er her heart , for there beside her stoodHer dearest one , who po sed in tender mood .With fond cares s he gently took her hand !‘When shal l I place on thi s the plain gold band ? ’Was al l he said , with much assumed love ,And Edith felt foretaste of heaven above .The great day of her li fe was fixed at last ,Belike felt he the interview was past .Another dreaded hour he had in viewWhen with her father he should beg anewFor his sweet child , with al l her lands and wealth !H i s heart smote him that these he ’d gain by stealth .

43

Bequeathed M id-OceanNext day Sir Poyntz his nephew saw alone ,

And Lovel l in hi s voice o f suavest tonePropo sed to make his bride o f Edith fairBefore to j oin hi s regiment he ’d repair .A stern and searching look the father gave !H i s only chi ld from this he ’d longed to save !But now he spoke in slow and trembling voice !‘I cannot say, my boy, that I rej oiceO ’er this my daughter ’ s fate . You know full wellShe i s my li fe , -i f harm to her be f e lMy heart would sink with sorrow to the grave .I wish her l i fe with happine ss to pave .Her future I must trust soon to your care ,A sacred charge she ’ l l be— you are awareI yield to this , because I have no heartTo cross my child and act a tyrant ’ s part .Your wild oats I shal l hope are o f the past ,Your pre sent good intentions , will they last ?Now when you at the altar take the vow ,

Brace all your manhood up and l i fe endowWith better, nobler aims than hereto fore ,And part for ever w ith the snare s o f yore .A husband good and true be to my child ,And to her fate I ’ l l then be reconciled .

’

So Honour with Dishonour then shook hands ,And Lovell promised to obey commands !No awkward que st ions did the old man ask .

In thi s bright thought did Lovel l ’ s mind now bask !To visit London was his next intent ,For letters to his club there had been sent .So bidding his fiancée short adieuHe hastened off with prospect s grim in vi ew .

Two letters only waited him in town .

44

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe sun shone down on Nature ’ s best attire

,

And jarring discords for the day retire !Gay floral arches deck the vil lage streets

,

And waving flags on high the s ight o ft greets !The church festooned with fairest l ily flowersReminded one of early Eden ’ s bowers .The gathered throng with eager looks now waitTo see thi s high-born bride arrive in state .And now the choir precedes her down the aisle

,

Rend’

ring the Bridal Hymn in tuneful style .The beauteous bride leans on her father ’ s armAnd littl e dreams of her approaching harm .

Soon , al l too soon , the fatal vows are made ,And many k ind congratulations said !And later on , when came the last farewel l sTo none the sad present iment forte lls,That the young bride now passing from their viewWas doomed the road of sorrow to pursue .Her father ’ s portal s she ’d pass thro ’ no moreAh ! cruel Future thus to veil thy store .

Ir was a sad and sunless Thursday morn ,Sir Poyntz stood on Southampton pier forlorn .

His loving soul was torn with bitter grief .His only child with parting farewell s brie fWas taking now her last fond look beforeThe Perseverance bore her from the shore !For Lovel l had been summoned to hi s workAs Native ri s ings in the air there lurk .

Poor Edith felt a chil l come o ’er her heartWhen with her father she was bound to part !

46

Bequeathed M id-OceanAlone to leave him thus seemed now a crime

,

She felt him pass ing from her for all t ime .To her loved husband turned she in her need

,

But he alas ! to her paid litt le heed .

He harshly told her not to make a scene,

And Edith dried her eye s with feelings keen .

From that hour forth began his cold neglectO f thi s wronged girl who ’d made him her elect .As Edith a novice was on the wavesSo no exertions for some days she braves

,

But her alloted place she take s one night ,The place o f honour on the Captain ’ s right .So i l l she looked that sympathising heartsWent out to her, and thoughtful , kindly artsWere tried to brighten up her j oyles s l ot !But he she va lued mo st regarded not ,Nor sought her presence , as she well might hope ,But le ft her with her droop ing thoughts to mope !Apparent soon this grew to al l on board ,The much admired bride was not adoredBy him ,

— her husband of a month or two .

Stern crit icism s on himsel f he drew ,

And e ’en the Captain , honoured man and brave ,Thought serious ly Fitzgerald was a knave ,And made resolve to his opini on placeBefore thi s scion o f a lofty race .For this young bride , doomed to so sad a part ,An intere st felt he in hi s manly heart .Next day when Captain Br uce and Lovel l met ,The Captain then with re solution setDetained Fitzgera ld on the bridge , and keptHim talking there a space , and on he creptWith cautious tact up to the point in view !

47

Bequeathed M id-OceanAdvi ce he gave and strong opinion too .So Lovell once again , with tactics changed ,Solicitude and care round Edith ranged

,

And cheerful grew she as the voyage sped .‘All wil l come right

,

’ was what she fondly said .

Could Edith look into hi s inmost heartThe confl ict raging there would make her start !The sweet soul ’ s l onging in her eyes he felt ,And for a moment brie f himself he dealtRude blows , as ’twere for conscious he o f guiltAnd heaped-up wrongful woes for Edith built !Again he sees in H imalayan valeA bungalow— whereby there hangs a taleA queenly form recal l s with eyes that burn ,Praying so hard for her dear lord ’ s return .O f one thing Lovel l felt himsel f secureLove o f two faithful soul s was hi s most sure .

The tedious landing-day at last arrive s !With fragile , wearied look , poor Edith strivesTo real i se her dreamed-of crown of l i fe ,To see fair India ’ s strand as Lovel l ’ s wi fe .But chi lled and faint , her feel ings bode but i l lAs to her father ’ s friends she ’ s borne at wil l .The Governor, her father ’ s old comrade ,As guest receives her and soon is afraidThat this fair daughter o f hi s ancient friendWas doomed to many heartaches in the end .

Her husband ’ s duty cal led him to the hil l s !Sad parting pain the bride ’ s young bosom fi l l s ,For in Calcutta she behind must stay,Her health she ’ s told , must hold the greatest sway .

Well feigned concern her husband now professed ,48

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd whispered words o f cheer, and oft confessedHow much his darl ing wife he ’d mis s

,but yet

They must not selfish be , and so forgetThe coming pledge o f l ove , -the precious heirO f Gres ford acres— and a nam e so fair .Res igned to fate then Edith dried her tears

,

And Lovell hurried off re lieved o f fears !She wa s disposed off for the time , he thought ,And miracle s mayhap would yet be wrought .

His regiment now Fitzgerald had rejo ined,

And laurel s such as soldiers crave had coined !Engaged one day in l ive ly Native brush ,A nasty wound susta ined he in the ru sh

,

An injured arm enforcing him to rest !O f this t o Edith he had made but j est .One day towards sundown in a dreamy mood ,Reclining on a seat o f wicker goodOutside his quarters , t o our Love l l ’ s gazeA spectacle there came that caused amaze .A stately palanquin round angle borne ,With bearers eight and dignity wel l wornOn ground they placed it near Fitzgera ld 5 feet ,And out stepped one- the last he wished to meet .In all her Oriental splendour standsWith eyes ablaze and eager outstre tched handsMahda , his easte rn queen , hi s lega l wi fe ,Whom he had wi shed no more to .see in l i fe .With manner cold before the bearers ’ stareHe led her in t o lay her feel ings bare !And calmly wa iting til l the storm was spent ,He coolly asked her what on earth she meant ,By so transgress ing stern propriety ’ s laws

D 49

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd uninvited come— where fore the cause ?‘Oh dearest heart ! you are my husband true ,Each law of man I ’d break to come to you !In hour of need , of comfort, and of care ,Who but your wife your trouble ought to share !Your name I saw among the wounded l ist ,The news I read as thro ’ a blinding mist !That you ’d returned and I not by your s ideTo soothe your pain mysel f I could but chide . ’Ignoring much the poor soul ’ s gushing speech,Cursing the fate that brought him near her reach,With cool indifference he the topic turnsAnd a sks about the precious boy he spurns .‘Oh well ! So we l l ! The darl ing child i s sweetYou ’ l l come , my Lovell , soon your son t o greet .And thi s he promised sure i f leave he gained ,And Mahda le ft with j oy —her wish obtained .Be fore recovery from the shock had comeHe ’d bowed her and her bearers off for home !And when alone he found himsel f againThe secret thoughts that fi l led hi s heart were .vain .

Could there be one such other man , he mused ,With woman twain , so regal , yet abused ?Who worshipped him e ntirely heart and mind ,And grander women it were hard to find .Short t ime elapses ere we see him startTo visit Mahda

’

s home , and act the partO f l oving parent to her much prized boy .His feel ing now are near akin to joy ,So novel seems the pro spect to his view,To meet hi s first-born son new interest grew .

Mayhap thi s vis it leads to pathles s dri ft s ,Sti l l for the moment j oy hi s heart upli fts .

50

Bequeathed M id -OceanArrived at Mulnath Bungalow at lastReceived the Engli sh Sahib a welcome vast !To great use Mahda o f her riche s putTo render the reception that wou ld suit .Caressed she him to her ful l heart ’ s content ,And then to see their child hi s foot steps bent .Aside she pulled a curtain and unvei ledA scene that o ’

e r his carele s s mind prevailed,

And left it sel f all time engraven there !His eyes were rivetted in dre amy stare .

A nursery after Engl ish form and taste,

The varied detai l s Lovell saw in haste !The occupants howe ’ er did answer notTo English view , for Ayahs twain I wotSat on the floor, with each the tas sel endO f s i lken cord that girdles him they tend .

On satin cushion large sit s he in state ,As King in miniature ’ware naught o f fate !A handsome child o f English colouring true ,With glorious Eastern eyes , and hair that grewSo l ong and curl ing and l ike raven ’ s wingTo merely look at him would pleasure bring .

From mother then to child did Love l l look ,And speech now for the moment him forsook .

Cold perspiration o ’er him seemed to break ,And through his heart he could but sw i ftly reck ,A thousand we apons sharp were quick’

ning it

Lo ! Love at last the truest mark had hit ,And parent love

,both strangely strong and deep

Posses sed this cal l ous heart and there would keep .

The l ittle fe l low on his S ire ’ s sound armNestled in confidence , secure from harm ,

And hugged him with his chubby arms so tight ,SI

Bequeathed M id-OceanLove mutual here we see— l ove at first s ight .And whe n the meeting with his son was o ’er,His wife to hi s embrace he warmly bore .‘My queen , my queen , ’ he with emotion said ,‘fiove ’

s debt t o me you have ful l amply paid .

’

We l l for the mother ’ s sake the chi ld i s clear,Dearer the mother for the child ’t i s clear .Halcyon days he passed as in a dream ,

His wife and son in new light on him beam .

Not til l the curtains of the night d id clo seThe voice of conscience in him loudly rose !And then it cal led as he ’

d not heard fore times ,And from the darkened space the echo chime s ,‘Base vil lain , hope not you for love and peaceAnd for your cup of blessings to increase !When you again can use that wretched handWhich wrote the l ie s that two good women brand ,Return to duty and rife danger face ,A foeman ’ s bul let in your breast give placeAnd d ie the death of traitor coward churl!Not to your country— no stone unjust I hurl!But traitor thou to Virtue and to Truth .

’

Thus conscience ’ voice did torture without ruth ,But with each morn it aye was sti l led to rest ,And Lovel l ’ s mind refused to act the be st .Much contemplation , he ’t is t rue indulged ,And speculat ion which was thus divulged .Resolved he was to make no move me anwhile ,For frai l was Edith ’ s health . This thought so vi leFre sh courage gave , i f short-l ived she should be ,No need for him with wi fe and chi ld to fleeTo distant lands and be for ever safe !Thus was his ear by day to conscience deaf .

S2

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd e ’en enli sted aids of varnished artTo hope renew in Edith ’ s chil l ing heart .She watched him quietly unawares to him ,

His face she fancied full o f worry grim !Wond

’

ring the cause , she asked him if he fearedThat s igns of serious fighting had appeared ?‘Yes darling, yes , great danger fi l l s the air,I wish you soon to England would repair,A load would then be off my troubled mind ,To leave you here alone seems too unk ind .

To Gresford haste thee back , my sweetest wife ,Rest in it s shelt ’ring hal l s remote from stri fe .Months few must pass e re you may safely sail ,But Gresford ’

s heir perchance we then shal l hail .Doubly more anxious shal l my feelings beThat out o f danger ’ s midst you both may flee .India ’ s cl ime you do not seem to brook ,Your health is fra i l and fragile i s your look .

So Edith dearest , now your promise giveOn English soi l you ’ l l s oon return to l ive . ’Appealed to thus , sweet Edith ro se at lengthAnd languidly she stands with fail ing strength !Give s t o her so-called husband ice-cold hands ,And passively the promise he demands .A change passed o ’er the form of Lovell ’ s mind ,H i s point was gained , and now he felt incl inedTo cheerful be and even gay at lastBefore hi s duty vis it here was past .As Edith stood the last good-bye to sayAnd press the l ip s s o fa l se , in modest way‘Oh Lovel l dear, should you not come in t imeTo welcome here our l itt le pledge sublime ,Give name to the dear chi ld before you go ,

54

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe mighty point decide so I shall know .

’

‘Why, sure for such a question there ’ s no need,Poyntz and Sweet O riana , names indeedO f both your parents dear,— for boy or maid ,E ither o f these , my child , ’ he softly said .

‘Oh Lovel l dear, how sweet , ’ she whispered low ,

‘All i l l s on earth I ’ l l brave for you you know .

’

As gaily onward Lovell rode that dayTo him ' the future prospect clearly lay !Resolved was he to bear ofl wife and sonAnd wait for no event ere thi s was done .He found them heedful to hi s selfi sh wants ,And for the safeguard of them now he pants .But war in sobe r earnest was declared !With haste Punjab the 2nd had been preparedTo mount three hundred mile s upland and thenCame brie f farewell s with dear ones o f the men .

Mahda and Edith left behind to wait ,Prayed that the God o f Battle s guard the fateO f their dear One and bring him safe ly backWith laurel s crowned for courage he ’d not lack .

On May fi fteenth a little maid brought l ightTo a young mother’ s fading heart and sight .The little Oriana gave fresh hopeAnd Edith with recovery wel l did cope .And soon she planned to start for England ’ s shoreAnd part with drearines s for ever more !Lovel l would come to her when war was pastAnd all mayhap would happy be at last .Glad letters to her father now she sent ,And glowing tales o f Baby which ne ’er spent .

5 5

Bequeathed M id-OceanAll thi s she did to cheer the old man ’ s heart ,But sti l l at t imes misgivings made her start .Why was her dream of li fe with Lovel l farFrom its real ity ? The thought would marAnd kil l her j oy ! perchance the fate s were kind ,In paving hopeles s paths she yet must find .

Her father urged her to return with speedTo his safe shelter, where ’twas sure indeedNo harm would reach her, but adored would sheAnd her Sweet Oriana ever be .To Lovell her intentions she made knownHer near departure , and she needs must ownThe disappointment she would feel unles sHe came the l ittle one to see and ble ss .‘Impo s sible ! ’ The answer came with haste ,‘Duty is urgent , so no time to waste ,Without delay your voyage start I pray .

Be o f good cheer,I ’ l l fol low when I may .

’

Another wound thi s was to Edith ’ s breast ,But sti l l to murmur not would be the best ,Weeks only two she now would have to passEre for her father ’ s home she sa i led Alas !Poor mortal s make their many pleasing plans ,But God the Great Examiner them scans ,And ofttimes disapprove s as seemeth best ,And treasured schemes are waived aside to rest .

We see Fitzgerald with no time to spareTo answer Edith ’ s cal l and there repair .Yet he had le isure for hi s heart ’ s des ireTo vis it tho se who se presence d id not tire .In Mahda

’

s bunga l ow we find him nowUrg ing their speedy fl ight with feve red brow

56

Bequeathed M id-OceanAll ’ s wel l arranged— the day appointed setAnd furth’

rance of his plot seemed al l but met .In his departing hurry , see , he packsHis smal l valise , but certain care he lack s !The paper wrappings of no longer useAside he casts with elegant abuse !Neglects he too a lightcoat to include ,Hi s skil l , unlike hi s orderly ’ s , is crude .

Parting is o ’ er ! retracing now his wayHe reckons not what doom is near that day .

See Mahda treading his deserted floorThinking of him who held her heart ’ s best store .The papers so despi sed l i ft s she with sigh ,Rememb

’

ring her o f him so lately nigh !One glance— and the n why do her sense s fa i l ?She sees— what see s she in thi s Indian Ma i l ?Visions without form crowd her troub l ed bra in,

Pageantry of horrors form in the train .

The fatal page now drop s she from her grasp ,As if her hand was stung by deadly asp .

‘Oh God ! I dream , I surely do but dream ,

Life ’ s flowers o f Love and Hope and Trust al l seemA with’

ring heap to l ie with my mind ,Sure it must be a dream— a dream unkind .

Once more she li fts the paper from the floorAnd studies it more carefu l ly than before .At Ca lcutta , on the 1sth inst . , the wife o f

Captain the Honourable Lovel l Fitzgerald , of a daughter !Oriana! .

The fatal words seem now to turn her bra in !No dream ,

alas ! but bitter truth and pain .

5 7

Bequeathed M id-OceanHer kindled wrath burns bright with fierce st flame‘My child , my boy ! i f on thy name lie s shameThy grand s ire ’ s sword shall pierce thy father’ sheart

I f false he ’ s proved from li fe he shall depart .The truth I ’ l l know before I close my eye sMy son disgraced ! Oh God ! Revenge l ’ she crie s .With tragic step she moves towards the door

,

But stoops and looks again upon the floor .A coat by chance had fall ’n as by she sweptAnd from it fel l a letter Love ll ’d kept .‘More l ight , perchance , ’ was Mahda

’

s inmostthought

And when she ’d read it found disclosures sought .A letter ’twas from Edith ful l o f cheer,A sweet and wifely message saw she here .Her outraged feelings now outstepped al l bound ,To act was only consolation found .Orders she gave and promptly was obeyed ,To vis it Edith was her wil l e ssayed .

Driving Calcutta ’ s streets next day at e ’enThis striking woman and her child were seen ,With litt le trouble found she Edith ’ s homeAnd soon , t oo soon , would revelations come .

Musing sat Edith pensively aloneWhen Mahda

’

s voice of autocrat ic toneRequested speedy entrance t o her room ,

Intent upon unfolding myst ’ry ’

s gloomA matter private and o f vast importAssert s her claim admi ss i on to exhort .With air of gentle grace doth Edith rise ,Some fatal news , alas ! she must surmise .

58

Bequeathed M id-Ocean

Like fairest l ily bent , see there she waitsTo hear her doom from bitter

,frowning fates .

Mahda advancing with her proud head highPauses , and scans the love ly vis ion nigh .

‘Impossib le , ’ was her unspoken th ought ,‘That this fair, l ovely girl i s her I sought .How could the same man love such great extreme sAs she and I ? ’ —Yet no mistake there seems .Her haughty anger fled and le ft no traceWhen once she gazed on Edith ’ s pure sweet face !A genuine pity stirred her woman ’ s heartThat she ’d so soon a deadly stab impart .Edith the rich and beauti ful there st ands ,Her doom to take from this strange woman ’ s hands .Beck

’

ning her faintly to the nearest chairShe breathes with fainting l ip s and strained air,‘My husband ! i s he safe ? The worst I ’d know ,

Your face o f pity heralds mortal blow .

’

Then with a voice o f deepest passion chokedMahda on Lovell fast her curse invoked !‘Faint not dear lady

,at my language bold .

Great God , I would that he were st ifl and coldThis man that you cal l husband— he must die .By this same jewelled hand , l ow he must l ie .For you , fa ir girl , my inmost heart doth b leed ,And to prolong your pain there ’ s l itt le need .

Enough ! I am his victim ! S tffl’

rers bothWe two have righteous cause thi s man to loathe . ’Unfolding then a parchment Edith sawMarriage by civi l and religious lawO f Lovel l and thi s woman by her s ide .So thi s was Edith ’ s doom ! oh woe s bet ide lNext Mahda showed the letter Lovel l sent

59

Bequeathed M id-OceanArranging speedy flight with her consent ,And strong with gushing love for sel f and son .

Poor Edith gasped for breath when reading done ,And then her senses failed— her mind had fledBack to her chi ldhood ’ s home her spirit ledBut Mahda

’

s voice recal led her to thi s scene ,Inquiring when and how she ’d wedded been .

Anon the floodgates burst and Edith ’ s sobsHer frame now shook and Mahda

’

s brave heart robsO f many kindly drops o f pity ’ s blood .

In va in she sought to que ll the anguish flood !She begged and prayed of Edith to be calmAnd to her mind appl ied the Eastern balm .

‘Revenge ! Revenge , ’ was Mahda’

s ever cry ,The death o f tra itor base , thi s man sha l l d ie .Namele ss my child and thine it makes ,But let no scandal be for all our sake s .His retribution I alone mete out .’Tis death that ’ s justly earned beyond a doubt . ’‘Oh say not so , ’ cried Edith in despair,‘I l oved him so— thy words I cannot bear .He must not die —in time we can forgive .Think of hi s love f or you and let him live , ’‘Oh Saint or Angel ! which so e ’er you beWho of forgivenes s calmly talks to me ,Women of England mayhap can forgiveThe wretch who ruins them and e ’en let him live ,But we— the women of the East— AvengeAvenge our wrongs , ay, we must have revenge . ’Mahda now grandly stands at her ful l heightWith eyes o f flashing fire— a striking sight .‘In my son ’ s veins there runs thi s traitor ’ s blood ,That blood shall flow and die s he with the flood .

’

60

Bequeathed M id-OceanFor her sweet sake your stern revenge forego ,A fav ’

ri te son i s he— a lthough your foe ’Then pointing heav’

nwards gravely Edith said,

‘Remember God ’ s great wil l must be obeyed !Vengeance i s Hi s and He i s sure to payThe evi l-doer at His own best day .

No need for u s , poor erring mortal s all ,To mete out punishment for each one ’ s fall .Ere long I go to my dear father ’ s homeAnd Lovel l thither ne ’er again sha l l come

,

My l ittl e daughter he shall never seeI f fates almighty and my wil l agree .Why take not you your son to some far landAnd ne ’er again in Lovel l ’ s pre sence stand ?Vengeance ’ twould be , but o f a nobler kind .

May this not be the Covenant to bind ? ’

The Compact ’ s sealed , the interview i s o ’er,And Edith there we see alone once more ,Wringing her hands in wildest blank despair,‘Oh, Lovell , Love l l ! ’ti s more than I can bear .Oh, father, father ! it wil l break your loving heart ,Your only child disgraced by basest art ,Your only grandchild nameles s and despised ,O f such a fate why was not I advi sed ? ’Then madly rushing to her baby ’ s cotShe clasped the sleeping child , yet waked her not .Straining her to her breast , she sobbed in pain ,‘My darling ! You shall never know your bane ,Ne ’ er shall you suffer for your father ’ s sin ,A pure and bles sed li fe we ’ l l soon begin .

’

Then came again the old sweet hour o f pray ’

r

When Edith begged for strength her cross to bear,62

Bequeathed M id-OceanTo be upheld in trouble ’ s b itter hour ,And do the Right with aid o f heav ’

nly pow’

r .

Her over strained feelings t o relieveShe wrote to him who would for her most grieve ,Out-pouring a ll her anguish and her pain ,Longing to be at hi s dear s ide again .

‘Oh , Father ! Father ! ’ ran the bitter wail ,‘Why did I leave thee ? Oh ! the purpose frai l . ’Her letter finished , hope seemed to revive ,And to deceive the world she now did strive .Standing before her mirror, thus she spoke ,‘Henceforward Edith Vivian , bear thi s yoke !One long , l iving l ie sums your future l ife .Smile you must and list ’n while canker-worm ri feWill gnaw your very heart ’ s core sure and fast ,But you must smile and suff er to the last . ’That queenly woman see s she once aga in ,And little wonder feel s that she shou ld gainPoor Lovel l ’ s heart— a woman so divineIn peerles s splendour truly must outshineAl l other women , and to Edith ’ s mindMahda might worshipped be by womenkind .

‘And yet , ah me ! wha t were these words so wild ,A vow to ki l l the father o f her child .

’

‘Poor Lovell , ’ she soli loqu i sed anon ,‘Wil l you too suffer for the mischie f done ?Why did you not your secret tel l t o me ?I ’d sti l l have loved but yet have set you free .My riches with thee I ’d have gladly shared ,And from this stain your name had then beenspared .

’

Bequeathed M id -OceanSome days e lapse , when to Fitzgerald cameA letter which unfolds itsel f this same !‘Thou coward , tra itor, son of Evil One !Found out thou art ! thy course with me is done .I ’ve seen the English girl who bears thy name

,

And le arned from her thy double l i fe o f shame .Mysel f and son shal l pas s now from thy li fe

,

And keener far than edge of sha rpest kni feI s now my Hate for thee and e ’er shal l be ,And Hatred I shal l teach thy son for thee .Farewel l ! and when at last thy ha ir i s whiteAnd thou art groping in thy l i fe ’ s black night

,

Thou ’ lt cal l , but call in vain, for fi l ial handTo minister with love at thy demand .

’

Had he just heard his death-warrant herald,

Less truly stunned would have been Fitzgera ld .

‘What piece ’

of cursed luck i s this ? ’ he thought .‘What evil genius has thi s mischie f wrought ? ’Straight t o hi s Colonel went he then for leaveFor urgent leave a tale he soon did weaveHis wi fe was sick , and to Calcutta fastHe needs must go ! and ere the day is pastHe starts , clutching the wild hope in hi s breastThat there would yet be time news to arrestFrom reaching England and Sir Poyntz ’

s ear,

For soon would Edith write was pas sing clear,And his suppl ie s from that rich source would cease ,Making his pre sent worrie s more increase .To fol low Mahda and his son he vowed ,And for that end he hoped to be endowe dWith Edith ’ s gold

,and e ’en her pard ’

ning grace ,So l ittle thought he o f his own di sgrace .

At early evening ’ s cool , when blinds are drawn64

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd window s in Calcutta open thrown

,

When heat suprem e has lo st a space its sway,

In her verandah Edith s its one day,

An idle book in hand— no reading sought .Her mind i s wrapt in deepe st earnest thought

,

Her liquid eyes gaze into space afarWhile shadows close around— her peace to mar .One glance e nough to read her tale o f dole ,That sorrow ’ s steps imprints her very soul .As lily broken by a storm appears ,Which t ime nor human ski l l nor loving tearsCan e ’er repair ! l ike this did Edith look ,Folding her saintly hands now on her book .

This reverie o f hers an angel mightFear to disturb and hasten in its fl ight .But Lovell , who no angel wa s , I wot ,Advance s now, her dream- thoughts heeding not .With courage fort ified by eau-de-vie ,Prepared i s he to fight the powers that be .

Thus , stepp ing forward with his grandest air,Sure of hi s wil l ’ s strong might with Edith fair,He gaily greets her in hi s wonted way !But recked he had without hi s ho st that day .Erect she stand s l ike an avenging queen!Not the same Edith hereto fore we ’ve seen! ,And face s him— the cause o f all her grie fAnd forthwith give s dismi s sa l stem and brie f .‘Lov

’

ll Fitzgerald , dar ’ st thou again to comeAnd try to cro s s the thre shold of my home ?Go whence thou camest and no more returnAt sight o f thee my shame and ange r burn .

’

‘Edith,my love , what means thi s veh’

mence wild ?r! 65

Bequeathed M id-OceanSurely thi s home is l ikewise min-e , my chi ld . ’‘Stoop must I then , ’ she said with w ith’

ring scorn ,‘You to remind by whose expense s borneThis home by my dear Father’ s gen’

rous handI s kept , and in hi s name thee I commandTo enter not— Moreo

’

er thy injure d wifeI vowed to her that ne ’er again in l i feThy face I ’d see . Begone ! So ends thi s s ceneIn which unwill ing actor I have been .

’

‘Oh Edith ! Edith ! ’ crie s he in alarm ,

‘You cannot mean t o do me this great harm .

To me , pray, l i st-en while I do explainThe mystery clearly that hath brought you pain .

My wife ’ s she ’ s not l— The woman whom you saw .

You are my wife- my only wife by law .

A folly thi s o f my old bachelor daysWhen Pleasure fi l led my li fe and sin my ways .She l oved me , worthles s tho ’ I am , so muchThat now her Eastern jealousy i s suchThat hes i tate she would at nothing les sThan drastic me ans to end for her success .To part us she would sel l her very soul ,And for that purpose played that latest rol e !And you , my cousin and my wife , bel ieved .

Oh Edith , this from you I ’d ne ’er conce ived .

’

‘Love l l ! Begone ! There ’ s nought that you can sayWil l alter this sad truth in any way .

Your wife this woman is beyond a doubt,And wicked ’t i s o f you her claim to flout .Homeward by last ma i l went the ful l accountO f my ru ined state— my wrongs I did recountTo my dear father ! his l oving heart wil l break

66

B equeathed M id-OceanAt tidings o f hi s only child ’ s l i fe -wreck .

’

Fitzge rald ’ s pa t ience now began to wane !Edith ’ s behaviour seemed to him insane ,So stern ly bidding her from nonsense cease

,

‘Enter thi s house I shal l and make my peace .

’

With bold design to put hi s threat in forceThe first step he ascends but checks his course ,For Edith ’ s voice again fall s on his earsIn tone s he would remember a fter years‘Back ! Once aga in I tel l thee to depart !Thou

’

st ruined my li fe and broke my father ’ s heart .The stainle s s child thou’

st branded for all time !And yet thou would ’ st e ssay those step s to climb !I tel l thee that arrested thou sha lt beAnd for thy gui l t be tried , a lthough to meMy l i fe it co st , i f thou dost not depart . ’Lovel l recoi led in fear at thi s new start .‘Powerless am I , alas ! to go afar !The lack of gold my path ahead doth bar .In thi s respect i f you wi ll lend your a id,Then , Edith , I ’ l l attend to what you ’ve said . ’‘Name thy hotel and thither I shal l sendWhat I can spare to help thee to thy end .Hush , do not thank me ! I ’d forgive thee all ,Save for my child , who suff ers for thy fal l .May God do so to thee and l ikewise more ,For that base wrong I ever shal l deplore . ’B l indly d id Lovel l turn from her away !His race was run and done with her hi s day .

The thought revolving kept e ’

e r in hi s mind ,Could this cold woman be the Edith kindThat he had dreamt his wil l could always twine

67

Bequeathed M id-OceanRound his small finger when he did incline ?In sp ite o f al l he dined that night no les s ,And heart ’ ly to hi s future drank succes s .Before he from the table had retiredReceived he had the bribe that he ’d de s iredA note from Edith, bearing generous draft ,Which he acknowledged with his wisest craftA letter ful l o f passion and appeal ,Once more imp l oring her the breach to heal .The pains o f writ ing thi s he would have sparedCould he have witnessed how his miss ive fared !A lighted vesta ably does its turnUnopene d and unread the pages burn .

Tired Edith in obl ivion sinks to rest ,And ski l l o f science soon is put to test .For many weary weeks and months she l ie sWith flushing cheek and dry , unnatural eyes .Her l ittle child she ’d strain oft to her heartAnd words o f comfort to her ear impart .‘For thy sake , darling , mother yet shall l ive !May angel s to thee their prote ction give .The dear old Pri ory shall our convent be ,Its woods and parks the only world we ’ l l see .No breath of scandal e ’er shal l reach thee thereOh , would that we could thithe r now repair !

Long t ime elapses e ’er poor Edith ’ s strengt hLets her upon her voyage start a t length .

Before that time her crowning blow had comeHer father ’ s le ft the dear old Pri ory home .His reign i s o ’er . He sleep s with them that sleepAnd know no waking up to sadly weep .

68

VIEWING her latest work of art on hand ,As in some empyrean dream did stand

,

Sweet Oriana , whom we have not metS ince last we saw her standing, worn and wet ,On the cold pebbly beach that wretched nightRecruiting strength from battl ing wave s in mightNow there she stands before her finished gem ,

Like some fa ir flower on graceful , slender stem ,

Drink ing in heavenly j oys from rays of noonThat lavish are but pa s s away too soon ,This work ere long will gladden other eyes ,The Artist ’ s there to say her last good-bye s .

To one of Mayfair’ s fashionable homesA work o f art and of rare genius comes !Fitzgerald has a p icture just received ,Which give s him more del ight than he ’d conce ived .

It was the picture twin he ordered hadFrom her, whose fate alas ! he ’d thought so sad ,Now came the glad assurance to his mindThat ocean grave by him she did not find .A painful pleasure to him it had beenTo meet thi s girl , for in her he had seenA vision from the past that haunted him ,

And banish could not he the fancy grim .

De term’

ng now to see her once again,Excuse s make, and her forgiveness ga in

7 1

Bequeathed M id-OceanIn aiding furth’

rance of the Pole ’ s dark p lotTo marry her by force aboard his yacht .He sat in thought , and many fancies wildPassed thro ’ his brain

, and l ike some spoiled childCould see no reasons why obstructions shouldBar hi s wil l ’ s way in leading where it would .And to this Art ist fair meanwhile it l ed ,Such beauty and such grace he longed to wed‘The right to rule my actions i s my ownAnd all adverse opinions I disown ,This l onely girl I ’ l l ask my lands to share ,And likewise the Fitzgerald diamonds wear !Yes thi s I ’ l l do , perchance it may amendFor injurie s past— my foregone sins attend !Both night and day they rise up from the pastAnd in their ghastly clutches hold me fast .Near me for aye a flock of frightful ghosts ,Their just upbraidings bringing up in hosts ,Mayhap thi s step would lay them for al l t ime

,

To have by me this creature so subl ime .My Son

,would I could know if you stil l l ive ?

To see thee , boy, a ransom I would give !The world I ’ve seached for thee but al l in vain ,Both Son and Mother dead— I fear the twain .But my resolve i s made and now I goTo my fair si ster ’ s house to let her know,So her opinion hear . Gertrude i s sureFor blue s to loudly laud as safest cureThis new design of mine , for has not sheWith woman ’ s wile s and si ster ’ s love for meFul l o ft all iance s arranged and blestS ince Edith and her chi ld passed to their rest .

7 2

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe Lady Gertrude Selkrig i s at homeWhen Lovel l on his mission new had come .She greets him with a sweet and kindly smile

,

Indulging us with glance at her meanwhile .Sti l l young and favoured high in beauty ’ s gracePatrician she in every l ine o f face !A wea lthy widow with no chi ld and t ie ,Could li sten with no prejudice s nighTo Lovel l ’ s tale o f longed for wedded j oyAnd nought o f what he ’d say could her annoy .Some fair flow ’

r of the wildernes s unknownHe wished to cul l and wear aye as his own .

The Lady Gertrude profl ers friendly aidAnd acquiesced in al l proposal s made ,’M idst others be ing to accompany himAnd see and judge thi s flower of hi s whim .

To Oriana he conveyed the word ,Implying that hi s si ster who had heardSo much of her and loved her art ist ’ s craftWished much to meet her and hersel f engraft .In her good grace s then her p ictures viewThis he proposed the week that would ensue .

Our Oriana in her world of dreamsA sweet communion holds each day that beamsWith her lost Dearest One— ofttime s she steal sTo his old room and there his presence feel s ,The past companionship again returns ,And highest

,holy zeal within her burns

To fol low his dear steps , and never tireO f doing good in l i fe i s her desire .At gloaming oft on mercy ’ s mission bent

73

Bequeathed M id-OceanShe might be seen with Dash who l ikewise wentDispensing secret gift s o f love and cheer,To comfort sore si ck heart s to her grown de ar,Such was her mission at the twil ight hour,To do k ind act s that came within her pow ’

r.

The roaring Loom of Time she did not dreadAs on it wove her l ife with untried thread .

Expectantly she stands and waits to-dayTo greet the man who ’d hoped to her betray .Her wonted white robe does her fair form deck,A rose o f crimson nestl ing at her neck .

Her hair luxuriant , coiled in graceful knotLike fairest Christian Martyr, Lovell thought .For he now enters hi s new rol e t o p lay,Alone at first for he had much to say .The Lady Gertrude comes thi s afternoonBut ere she come s he first must crave a boon .Ashamed was he of the dark part he ’d playedAnd to excuse himse l f he now essayed .‘My chi ld , I ’m glad to meet you thus again ,Ah o ft-t imes for your pardon I ’ve been fain .That black event on my fair S te lla ’

s deckMy mind has t ortured and my peace made wreck .

Be l ieve me I have suffered for that night !Ay, many bitte r fears I’ve had to .fight

My chi ld ! I tel l you I have suffered soThat al l my j oy o f l i fe has turned to woe .That wretched Pole I thought indeed had claimOn you , swe et girl , oh much I was to blame .But when your indignati on I did see ,And your unfeigned fright o f him and me ,Remorse I fe lt , but soothed my mind to rest

74

Bequeathed M id-OceanBy p lanning the escape t o aid you best .To lower a boat that night was my intent

,

To row you safe ashore my wil l was bent ,But wel l you know the empty c abin foundAnd the distracted fears that you were drowned .Oh ! child ! the mem ’

ry of that night o f painI ne ’e r can bani sh but must e ’

er retain .

Can you forgive ? Oh pardon if you canA sad , remorseful and repentant man . ’H i s tones touched Oriana ’ s tender heart ,And fast

_she now asured him that his part

In that night ’ s work had been long since forgivenAnd to forget it al l her mind had striven .

H i s point thus gained Fitzgerald took hi s leaveAnd in sol i loquy hi s dreams did weave .I f it be true that eye s are o f the soul ,The l impid windows— then upon the wholeMethinks , reflected in these orbs o f thineI s soul whe re nobleness and truth combine .Fate surely meant that on that classic browA coronet should rest , and fame endowWith laurel wreath, oh would that by my aidAl l fitt ing honours on thee yet be la id .

The Lady Gertrude meet impatience showsTo view the sovereign charms on which bestowsHer brother gay such reverence and respect .Rare must they be does Gert rude oft reflect .The time to meet tho ’ slow arrive s at lengthAnd Oriana in her gui le le s s st rengthAccords thi s high-born dame a welcome true ,And Lady Gertrude had no cause to rue

7 5

Bequeathed M id-OceanThis meet ing for her brother ’ s favoured sake ,For in thi s girl a friend she longs to make .A good impression t o impart she tried

,

And all the worldly wi le s within her viedTo make a conquest o f thi s peerle s s one .The heart of O riana soon was wonBefore the Lady Ge rtrude took her leave .Thi s friendship , she

,to cultivate , did weaveA cunning plan— for by the Artist ’ s handA portrait o f hersel f she d id command .

Proud Oriana with del ight comp l iedAnd both on frequent sittings then rel ied .

The Lady Gertrude daily bent her wayT

’

wards Mayvil le ’ s gate— each day ’ s protracted stayBespoke the gladd ’

ning interviews enj oyedWith it s fair owner, whose bl i s s unal loyedWas privilege to sketch thi s beauteous face ,So rarely charming in each l ine to trace .For to the true-born arti st ’ s cultured mindThe e legance and breeding so combinedMade Oriana her devoted friend ,And Gertrude triumphed having gained her end .

IN thi s Belgravian dame aff ection grewAnd li fe for her contained an intere st new .

A feel ing magneti sing drew her nighAnd stil l more nigh as bonds o f interest high

76

Bequeathed M id-OceanMethought they ’d melt no more , but now like lead ,Like molten lead they stream and burn my sightWhat is the secret o f this lone girl ’ s mightHer purity untainted by the worldMayhap ’ s the cause ? Would it could be unfurl

’

d .

Or i s it that some higher power appeals ,A fascination undefiled me seal s . ’She thought with sadness o f her brother ’ s fate ,For he and this grand girl could never mate ,And this she told him with her gentlest tact ,Forbidding him to shut hi s eyes to fact .Removed beyond him as some evening star,He must submit to worship from afar .Should he persist proposal then to make ,Well Ge rtrude thought , their friendship it wouldshake .

Alarm would Oriana doubtles s feelAnd make her ’gainst them both her heart to steel .‘Go back t o town , my brother, nor delay,You ’ l l meet again , and promise thi s I may .Pe rsuaded her have I to visit meAnd her first glimpse o f Mammon ’ s World see . ’So Lovell acting on thi s counsel wise ,Returns to Mayfair and in ambush lies .Ti l l once again his prey i s on his path ,And wait ing, many trying moments hath .

Days passed and fonder Oriana grewO f her sweet friend— a warm affection drewThese two together, but alas ! must endThis intercourse on which they both depend .

Sittings are o ’ er, Be lgravia ’

s dame must part78

Bequeathed M id-OceanFrom her young friend with sad regret at heart .Engagements wait that cance lled cannot beSo Gertrude breaks her soj ourn by the sea .But both look forward with the hope subl imeTo promised vi sit at no distant t ime .

TIME sti l l advances with his measured strideAnd Oriana there in humble prideSurveys again her latest work of art ,Doomed soon alas ! to p lay a tragic partIn her l ife ’ s hist ’ry, but that knowle dge veiledTo wreck her placid peace as yet , hath failed .

The Lady Gertrude ’ s portrait ’ s there on view ,And exquisite i s it and li fe- l ike true .The other work that meets the raptured eyeI s a sweet bay where t ints of sunset l ie ,Then flit and flash from distant rocks and back,And golden flocks o f dying rays that lackAs yet no l i fe— but ful l o f heavenly fire ,Their dazzl ing glorie s blend e ’er they retire .

Surpassing beauty i s thi s sunset scene ,And each rare and re splendent touch had beenFrom the inspired hand— the ! gift d ivine ,Where genius and true-Nature- love combine .Portrait and Scene receive an honoured place’M idst works of skil ful eminence and graceOn Burlington ’ s proud wall s , and now has comeThe promised t ime for her first stay from home .

79

Bequeathed M id-OceanAn Indian chest suggested to her mindThat robes worn by her mother there she ’d find .

Op’

ning it now with feelings k in to aweEmbroidered robes with priceles s lace she saw .

With tender rev ’

rence soon her choice she made ,And l ing ’

ringly as ide her treasure s laid .

Fashions had changed ful l o ft s ince they ’d beenworn ,

But o f the whiteness age had not them shorn .

Her simple preparations soon complete ,Loving embraces from Dash and farewel l s meet ,Our Oriana found hersel f at lastWhirl ing along thro ’ bri l l iant sunshine fast ,T

’

wards Mammon ’ s mighty city o f unre st ,The wort h of which she was about to test .The Lady Gertrude on the plat form standsWith James her powdered footman for commands ,Waiting to greet to-day ’ s expected guestWith yearning longing, and with gushing zest .Out stepped the hero ine with state ly mienO f beauty ’ s grace and dignity true queen .

So thought the Lady Gertrude at a glance,As she to hail he r welcomes did advance .Anon they ’re driving thro ’ the grand old Park ,Assoul re freshing as the song of lark ,Thro ’ one long mass o f variegated flowersB lended with verdant overhanging bowe rs .The l iving emera ld o f the grass aroundAnd graceful fol iage of the trees abound .

A dream— a very dream of heave n ’ s own blis sWas this young maid ’ s impre s s i on— not amissFriends— had the Lady Gert rude asked to meet

80

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe famed young artist , and ’mong the e l iteOur Oriana bore hersel f with ease .Her charming manner did her ho stess please .From great dames such remarks came to the fore ,A striking l ikeness to some one she bore .But who it was they could not yet agree .Enough her long hi dden beauty now to s ee

,

Fitzgera ld lo st no t ime in coming too .And him she warmly gre eted frank ! and true .But from the past she play ’

d for him a part ,A stony hand he felt clutch at hi s heart .Behind the brightnes s o f her glorious eyesHe thinks he can detect reproach that l ie sStil l smould

’

ring from a long past fiery heap ,And this thought from hi s mind he cannot keep .

Howe ’er hi s s i ster asks him to attendHer on her drive at length with her young friend .

And Lovel l goes and studies al l the whileThe face that as a spel l doe s him begui le .My Lord Gre enleaves rides up a word to sayAnd stra ight as Oriana ’ s conque st lay .

His lordship i s the greatest match in town ,And in socie ty is o f vast renown .

And now he deigns to look with favour highOn this fa ir maiden he has just come nigh .

And glad he feels that they will meet againThat very night , s o he may try to gainHer good opinion and himsel f engraftWith one , devoid it seemed , of worldly cra ft .A few more introductions end the driveAnd home in varied moods the three arrive .Elated felt the Lady Gertrude much

r 8 1

Bequeathed M id-OceanThat her young gue st had caused sensation such,Which was apparent in so short a space ,And then the banquet of to-night she ’d grace .Our Oriana felt a wonder newPosses s her soul , and stil l more great it grewIn think ing over all she ’d se en and heard .

’Twas marv ’

l lous al l to her so quietly reared .

And Lovel l had a dul l pain at hi s heart ,His mind was fixed that he would try no partTo win thi s girl as he had fondly thought

,

But for her weal and happ ines s he sought .Anon the dinner hour approaches nearAnd our fair heroine we see appear,Brushing her tres se s of rich auburn hair,And coil ing them in Grecian knot with care !While l ittle wavelets play round her sweet browAt nature ’ s will ,— and see , she handle s nowThe dainty robe she ’ s chosen to wear this eve ,Round which a dear romance she now did weave .A robe that once her long lost mother woreOn one occasion in those days of yore .A fabric so ft and shimmering richly fineWith flowing folds of co stly lace combine .The fit i s perfect , though the style be quaint !A study for some master hand to paint .Such the idea that one ’ s mind now frame s ,As there she stands midst fashion ’ s lords and dame sIn proud Be lgravia ’

s drawing-room to-night ,To them a rare and unexpected sight .With Lord Greenleaves she destined i s to pair,And that young lord ’ s delight ’ s beyond compare ,

And thro ’ the banquet wrapt attent ion paid82

Bequeathed M id -OceanTo every action and e ach word she said .

A charm she had peculiarly her own !To season ’ s belle s this lord had ne ’er felt prone .To bring the al l-important question forth ,Tho ’ well he knew his suit had valued worth ,Now fast and strong the feel ing comes to himThat he must risk mayhap re fusal grimFrom thi s strange girl now sitting at hi s s ide !Propose he would whatever might betide .Through later evening many songs were sung ,And voice s clear o f fairest ladie s rungIn Oriana ’ s ears— but , lacking soul ,They entertained her l ittle on the whole .At length there burst upon her tuned earsA song and voice remembered in long years .Divinely played the symphony had beenBy him who sang— no neophyte , I we en .

Fitzgerald ’ s mel low tenor note s rang forthThat old refra in , that song o f noble worth ,When Other Lips , and Oriana ro seAnd to the singer ’ s side she soft ly goe s ,Afraid that a stray word would break the spe l lThat from this thr i l l ing mus ic o ’er he r fe l l .Enraptured there she stands to the last bar,He r spirit wafted up from earth afar .The singer looked up to the fa ir young face ,

One sad l ong searching look was his to traceResemblence t o that one o f bygone yearsWhose love l iness he ’d marred by b itter tears .

‘Oh God ! what can thi s mean ? Thi s hauntingthought

Wil l come again and torture me unsought . ’83

Bequeathed M id-OceanUnsteadi ly he rose and le ft the room ,

This Vi sion seeme d to antedate hi s doom !And whe n good-night the Lady Gertrude saidTo al l her guests as they retirement made

,

She j oined her brother as he stood aloneAnd said in awed and strangely anxious tone ,

‘Oh Lovel l ! Lovell ! have I seen a ghost ?On you the spectre cannot have been lost .Were I not sure that she had passed from sight ,Edith Vivian wa s here hersel f this night . ’‘Oh hush ! You make me i ll , in words you putThe thought that in my brain I ’d fain uproot . ’And when in his own house he sat forlornWith one idea was his mind now torn .

‘The lawyers said , forsooth, they both were dead ,But now, alas ! I trust not what they sai d .

By heavens ! they l ied— I say again , they l iedWhen they announced that child and mother died .

This girl i s Edith ’ s child beyond a doubt ,But proo f I ’ l l have and sift the matter out .Her form and face and e ’en her very dre s sReveal

'

the fact— but further proof ne ’

erless .

’

Next morn we see the subj ect o f hi s thoughtIn rapt ’rous mood and much excitement fraught ,For soon— delightful thought l— she i s to standIn Art ’ s great Institution o f the landAnd view the works o f l iving Masters ’ ski l l

,

And with her own compare them all at wil l .So in the brie fe st t ime we see her there ,With flushing face and mingling blushes rare ,Gazing at Art in varied beauty ’ s form ,

Her heart o ’

erswept with zeal ’ s excited storm ,

84

Bequeathed M id-OceanHer loved viol in with songs and music choiceTo—night Society ears would make rej oice .Behold her ent ’ring now the dazzl ing hal lWhose marv ’

lous sp lendour does her he art enthral .Her young host for her entrance i s on watchAnd when the first glimpse he at last does catchHe thinks her l ike some choicest p icture fair,Arranged with taste in quainte st setting rareAn old- style robe with priceles s Vivian lace ,But neither flow ’r nor jew ’

l he r bosom grace .A close ob server might discern a chainThis t iny thread of Indian gold had la inOn her fair neck for years a pass ing few ,

Attached to it a pendant hid from view .

As she advances by Fitzgerald ’ s s ide ,The l iving image o f hi s former bride ,Glasses are raised on each patrician noseWhose owner had been guest l ong since midst thoseWho gaily graced that trait ’rous wedding-day,And then in voices hushed we he ar them say,‘What beauteou s vis ion light ’ns now our view ? ’And as they gazed their hearts are thril led anew .

What can it mean ? What trick i s being played ?A Vision from the Past ! They feel afra i d’Tis Edith ’ s face and form and style o f dre s s ,But she has passed from earth long years ne ’

erless .

‘Then who ’ s thi s lovely girl , ’ the question ’ s asked ,‘That cometh thus as Edith Vivian masked ? ’‘M i ss Bruce , the arti st , ’ comes the answer back !And throbbing interest in her none did lack .

The Lady Gertrude Se lkrig ’

s artist friendSensat ion caused , and wonder without end .

86

Bequeathed M id-OceanKindly and sweet to a l l— a smil ing rayShe was hersel f, and knew no part to play !And when her charmed hostes s bade her singThro ’ that great dazzl ing hal l her notes did ringClear, grand and sou l ful , l ike an ange l ’ s song ,Thril ling each one alike in that vast throng

,

And Love ll , strangely stirred , stood ashen pale .The simple words struck home as some true tale ,Words unadorned but touching in extremeWhen wedded to a melody supreme .With path’os and with sympathy inspired ,Cold heart s to melt thi s l itt le air aspired !

’Tis summers long agoS ince Rose , my littl e maiden ,A bud with sunshine laden ,

Began to grow .

A frail and tiny blush budWas Ro se , my little maiden ,But sweet with sunshine ladenA flowery load .

The summers come and goAnd Rose

,my l itt le maiden ,

No more with sunshine ladenI s here below .

Like her namesake sweetI s Rose , my littl e maiden ,With no sunshine laden

Droop ing at our feet .87

Bequeathed M id 'Ocean

Sad sight to see !Unpetal

’

d, scattered flowerThe touch of a rough hour

B l ighted thee !

A sacred si lence re sts as her last noteNow faintly echoes on the ear remote .Entranced , her audience wait to wake again ,Her voice l ike some sweet spel l had o ’er them lain .To hear that voice , to watch that angel face ,Had soothed the world ’ s unrest for one brie f space .When later on her loved viol in she tuned ,In much amaze these high-born guest s communed .Thi s radiant gi fted creature passed the ir ken ,From their world far removed— yet near them then .Surrounding her some mystery obscureThey in their inmost hearts are feel ing sure .The Lady Gertrude thus sol il oquised ,‘Anticipations ful l are realized ,She has indeed outshone my brightest hope ,N0 other woman with her here can cope .

’

My Lord Greenleaves before the night i s o ’erAlas ! i s withered to his heart ’ s ful l core ,For he had laid his riche s and his heartAnd al l that rank and worldly power impartIn solemn earnest at thi s maiden ’ s feet ,But she with gentle tact and p ity sweetThe glittering shade o f Hope dispel led for aye ,And Greenleaves fe lt his fate was sealed thi s day .With rapt ’rous prai se the dance was loudly boomed ,But none had known what ghast ly shadows loomedWithin the heart s o f two distinguished gue sts

88

Bequeathed M id-OceanWho duly bowed to et iquette ’ s requests .My Lord Greenleaves in grievous state o f mindHad groaned and bled in secret and repined .Fitzgerald also , worshipped man o f town ,Had smiled but sadly nursed a hidden frown !Both mind and body now were woeful ly worn

,

For tort ’ring doubts him more and more had torn .

ON wing was now the home depart ing hourO f Oriana , our fair desert flower .To-day she goes t o bid a long farewel lTo Art ’ s great hal l s , whe re she has love d to dwel l ,To view once more the l iving Masters ’ skil lAnd l inger there , admiring Art at wil l .So hot ’ s thi s day that soon she fee l s contentTo occupy a lounge , with mere intentO f testing her own work with gems around ,And interest passing much she thuswise found .

While so engaged in studying works o f fameA woman grand and queenly- looking came ,Accompanied by a young man nobly formedWho wel l the heart s o f maidens could have stormed ,And stood before her own Welsh sunset sceneAnd gazed on it with seeming intere ‘st ' keen .

Thi s handsome pair much admiration wonFrom our fair fri end— a mothe r and her son ,Was her conclus ion , but not Engl ish they .

And English customs they did not obey,For soon they crossed and took the vacant seat s

89

Bequeathed M id-OceanBy Oriana ’ s s ide , who too defeatsThe st iff old rule s of Etiquette at w i l l ,And smile s responsive gives— and thinks no il l .Then talk ensues and Art in beauteous formI s much discussed by them this summer morn .

Ful l much embarrassed Oriana feel sWhen thi s young princely man to her appeal sFor her opinion of the sunset scene ,The sweet Welsh bay that viewed before has been .

B lushing , she said that she would much preferOn any other p icture to conferHer true opinion , ‘For I would not beA fair judge of my own work , don ’ t you see . ’‘Are you the painter of that picture fine ? ’Their eager voices in accord combine ,And when the art ist had the point confirmed ,The stately mother now the fact afii rmedThat purchased it had been by him her sonAnd glad were they acquaintance to have wonWith her, the gifted art i st , in thi s way ,And then forthwith went on to further say‘Our t ime on travel we do much bestowS ince came o f age my son some years ago .The world ’ s most famous sights we ’ve see n sincethen ,

But soon our face s turn to East again .

Though Engl ish rights are ours , I may confess ,Our home is India— doubtles s you wil l gue ss .Meanwhile it i s our next and sure intentTo visit Wa l e s ere then— my son i s bentOn seeing spots o f beauty l ike thi s sketchNature-admiring throngs it well might fetch .

’

90

Bequeathed M id-OceanAn intere st great did Oriana showAnd straightway she made haste to let them knowThat she hersel f was Anglo-Indian chi ldAnd glad tha t through her means they ’d been beguiled

To vis it Wales , her own dear treasured home .While touring t here she begged that they wouldcome

To see Llandudno and the beauty spotO riginal o f the picture they had bought .‘With Lady Gert rude Se lkrig I am guest ,Or otherwise I should have made requestTo meet you once again ere I departAt early morn to-morrow I shal l start . ’‘The Lady Se lkrig ! I s she of your kin ? ’‘Oh no ! Our charming friendship did beginThrough Lady Gertrude ’ s brother, who had boughtMy early work and others then he soughtMy art i st ’ s skil l he de igned to much admire .One day he wrote on purpose to inquire ,As he ’d be passing through Llandudno fair,I f he might bring the Lady Selkrig thereTo view my p i cture s , and a cal l be madeSo Lovell , the Hon

’

rable Fitzgerald said .

’

As Oriana mentioned thi s high nameA strange change o ’er the l ist ’ner’s face there came ,A qu ick and penetrating look she castOn our young friend , then spoke at last .‘This brother, he i s rich , a man o f race ,But lone and childles s— i s not so the case ? ’And from the girl the confirmation had ,‘Yes

,rich and childles s , and , I fear, so sad .

’

9 1

Bequeathed M id-OceanThey ro se to part and cordially shook handsAnd promised ere they sai led for distant land sThey ’d try t o see her at her own dear home !And Oriana hoped that they would come .Then , speeding back ful l o f her latest news ,She heard the Lady Gertrude Selkrig ’

s viewsIrregular she thought it , and unwise ,For friendships in thi s manner t o a ri se !But Oriana pra ised her friends with zealAnd sl ightest detai l did she not conceal ,And Love ll , who a li stener was as wel l ,Heard as i f it were his funeral knel l .Cold beads of death- l ike dew his forehead chil lOn this hot day— he feared he must be il l .Fast were the waters closing in , he knew,And drowned in his own s in he pas s from view .

Gath’

ring hi s strengt h to mock his ri s ing fear,‘Gertrude , ’ he said , ‘let me remind you , dear,That at the Opera in an hour we ’re due !The time t o dress i s sure most bri ef for you .

’

Closing the door on her retreating form ,

As to his wil l hi s s ister did conform ,

A talk with Oriana then he soughtTo show her a medal l ion he had bought .The gem she praised , and he with ski l ful tactHer pardon begged for in a curious act ,‘A thing of value i s , my child , me thinksAttached to that fra i l chain o f feeble l inks .Pardon me i f I seem in this too bold ,Perchance it i s a l itt le pendant goldWhich holds the face o f some dear one you ’ve lost .Whose mem ’

ry you do prize and value most . ’Then Oriana ’ s soft l ow answer came ,

92

Bequeathed M id-OceanBut at the Opera soon no thought wa s givenT

’

wards the poor inval id , who ’d bravely strivenTo hide hi s malady from anxious eyesBut made apologie s and bade good-byes .But there in stately sol itude he rest sIn his own house , where he hi s feel ings tests .In contemplation he reviews the pastAnd scene s loomed forth which made him gazeaghast .

‘Woe ’ s me ! I sowed wild oats at morning timeAnd tares abundant reap at curfew chime .Edith , ’ he groaned , ‘my sins will find me out .The coloured queen with Engl ish son , no doubt ,Who cal led at L incoln ’ s Inn two days agoSome vital news concerning me to knowMust be the same whom thy dear child has met ,And when that woman finds me in her net ,Strike fast and sure wil l she with ruthless hand .

She ’ l l spare me not , so I must make my stand .

My dusky queen , thou ’

st thwarted me enough !Resolved I am to make the confl ict tough .

The wealth o f gold I own must serve the useO f thi s poor child . I s she to bear abuseFor her vile father’ s sake — sweet Edith ’ s chi ld .

Not so , I say— her future 'shal l be p i ledWith riches , honour, and with worthy deeds .

Anticipate at once shall I her needs .B les sed ever be her l i fe above all other,This noble daughter o f a noble mother .Oh ! what a madman have I been , alas !To lead my li fe to such a wretched pass .O f ready writer had I but the pen ,

94

Bequeathed M id-OceanA solemn lesson would I teach to menWould they from me could warning take in timeAnd ne ’er at any age coquette with crime .To think that I , that sweet girl ’ s father, shouldAid and abet that rascal Pole , who wouldHave wrecked her peace and broken soon her heartI ’ l l ne ’er forgive mysel f that villain ’ s part .I felt indee d the climax near that nightAt Lady Gre enleaves’ dance . Revealing lightCame to my mind as there I saw her nameWri t on her songs ,— strange I ’d not known thesame . ’

BES IEGED was Lady Selkrig ’

s box thi s nightBy many friends o f noble rank and might ,A part ing word or two they wished to sayTo her !young guest before she le ft next day .At last the Opera and farewel l s are o ’er,The Lady Se lkrig ’

s carriage at the door .When seated there and rol l ing on t ’wards home ,Glad Oriana felt that she had comeTo see thi s bu sy li fe , it s rush and war,The bustl ing city with its din and roar,The sights o f beauty and of ancient fame ,Its Art and talent under every name , ,

Charmed and impressed our Oriana ’ s mind ,Yet caused no pang to leave it al l behind !For she with j oy looked forward to next dayWhen she once more might watch the wavelets playAnd hear the oce an sound she loved so wel l

95

Bequeathed M id-OceanWhen its majestic bil lows rose and fell ,And all things would be real once again .

To think thi s other than a dream were vain ,Only a trip to dreamland she had be enAnd marv ’

l lous act s and wond ’rous sights she ’d seen .

Her mem ’

ry’

s picture-hall was fi l led with scenesO f thi s new world , and hencefort h by their meansThis interim o f her li fe she would reviewAnd j oy from it derive for ever new .

Her faithful dog she longed again to meet ,Her maids , her garden , and her home so sweet .Glad would she be to see them all so soonAnd with her Dearest Lost One hold commune

,

For somehow he had seemed so far awayIn al l her late experience s so gay .But here abruptly doe s her reverie cease ,The carriage stops and brings these thoughts release .With her fair hostess , who regrets with zestThat on departure ’ s brink i s her loved guest ,She enters now the stately mansion home ,Where Gertrude hoped she frequently would come .

Cloudles s and fair the j ourney day did break ,In happy mood our heroine did awake ,And soon with Lady Gertrude she did standOn that same platform where we saw her land .

Before the train bore off its precious prizeAn incident unlooked for did ari se .My Lord Greenleaves arrived upon the scene ,A part ing word and k indly smile to glean ,And as he j oined the slowly moving trainHe felt hi s mis sion had not been in vain ,

96

Bequeathed M id-OceanFor he received the sweetest o f good-byesFrom sweetest one to him beneath the skies .‘Dear Lord Greenleaves, good-bye I wish to thee ,And when I hear that someone ’ s found to beThy star o f Hope , thy loved , thy best adored ,I ’ l l pray that heaven ’ s cho ice gi fts be ever pouredOn her and thee . In time it must be so !Consol ing thought which I sha l l not forego .

’

The wintry smile that o ’er his face had playedIts own tale told— that t im e wou ld be delayed ,Ay , for Eternity , ere he shou ld wed .

All hope of happine s s in him was dead .

The Lady Gertrude learned from him that mornThe crushing b low t o hope that he had borne .Surprised and flattered to a huge ext ent ,This great dame revel led over all it meant .Her own loved protégée had thought it rightAn ancient coronet and name to s l ight .The greate st match in town she had refusedIt was vexat ious , but she felt amused !Hi s suit rejected o f conceit would cureNigel , Lord Gre enleave s, evermore for sure .

A pleas ing j ourney Oriana had ,And on arrival home her heart was gladAgain to feel the balmy fre shness of the seaWafted by friendly zephyr pure and f ree ,And a ll around the country ’ s vivid green ,

G 97

Bequeathed M id-OceanHer old dear land and seascapes in their sheen

,

Lying ’neath heaven ’ s expansive arch of blueEndearing was the prospect to her view .

And see ! her garden like an Eden dreamI s gemmed with varied blooming flowers that gleamM idst grassy lawn in fairy beds , there blendRose s and Lilies and rich Pinks that l endTheir richest perfume to the tranquil breeze .Nature and home vie both al ike to please .A dear home-coming truly this

,she thought ,

With rest ful ca lm and soothing solace fraught !So vast unl ike the tumult and unre stO f that great world which she had been to test .With j oy unmeasured Dash hi s welcome showed ,And midst cares sing Oriana vowed ,‘My brave dog, i f again I stray from home ,Determined I that thou must also come !Lost have I been without you , faithful fri endAnd you I le ft your dear true heart to rend .

From room to room she j oyous ly did roam ,

Lilting a verse meanwhile o f H ome , Sweet Home !

And at the first sign o f the dying raysForthwith she start s upon her mis sion ways

,

Laden with gifts for aged poor and weak ,Whose com fort it was ever hers to seek .

Cheering and bright , from house to house she goes ,Trying to l ighten weary loads o f woe s !And at late sunset , when she home arrives ,From this thought she much happines s derives .To tint with joy anothe r morta l ’ s l ifeI s the mo st plea s ing task in earthly stri fe .Ah ! cruel fate , could naught alas ! avert

98

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe future grie f and pain for her that wertCould De stiny ’ s dark leaves not aye concealIt s myst ’ry crude and harsh and ne ’er reveal ,To blight the peace o f thi s pure noble soulWho placed before her li fe the highest goal ,The glory of her God in all her acts

,

And never from that end her mind retracts .Day followed day, and each one saw achievedSome task , of duty or o f love conce ived .

Her l ife was now l ike one broad placid streamThat calmly flows along without a dreamThat to the wild eternal rocks it gl ide sWhere Time has notched his centurie s by tides ,And where ala s ! it s tranquil reign will ceaseGone for al l t ime it s old unruffled peace .The roaring sound o f distant cat ’ract tendsNo warning for the stream as on it wends,Til l with a shock it feels itsel f one dayD i spersed on rocks and scattered into spray .

So Oriana ’ s l i fe g l ides on in peace ,! or one brie f space no sorrow-wrinkle s creaseThat fair soft si lken brow ,

but soon a cloudThe cloud of bitt ’rest pain— does her enshroud ,And she l ies stricken l ike some bleeding deer,Quiv

’

ring with sickly torture and new fear

With s l ow and stately step there could be seenOne day a pa ir

,who broke Mayvil le ’ s routine ,

Wending their way l ong it s fair garden walkWith smiling int ’rest and with constant talk .Del ighted , Oriana sees them come

99

Bequeathed M id -OceanAnd hastened forth to welcome to her homeHer Indian friends whom she ’d so strange ly met ,Surprised and glad that they did not forget .A tacit understanding was , there seemed ,Between the mother and the son one deemed .

Ere long the conversation chanced to veerTo birthday months , and wishful they to hearThe date o f Oriana ’ s natal day ,Who quietly to ld them ’ twas the month of May,The day fi fteenth , and pensively went on ,‘.My dearest l oved one , who from earth has gone ,Said I mid-ocean was bequeathed to him ,

And thus the reason of hi s k indly whimThat I should keep two birthdays in each yearThe one when he became . my father dear,For I an orphan was— to him I cameWhen mother died at sea . ’ —News for the dameWhich clearly proved her own convincement t rue ,And so a satis factory sigh she drew .

She l onged to show the girl a cutting old ,Yea , dim with age , which she would soon unfoldA cutting from an Indian Mal l , which boreThe fel l announcement we have read before

At Calcutta , on the 1sth May, the wife o fCaptain the Honourable Lovel l Fitzgerald , of a daughter !Oriana! .

A look o f warning from her son thi s checkedAnd friendly O riana never reckedThat in another l itt le day her peaceDestroyed would be and j oy in l i fe would cease .

IOO

Bequeathed M id-Ocean

Comes now afresh to me,for well I ’m sure

That this base man who ru ined her l i fe so pureI s my son ’ s father— and thine own , my child .

Thy mother by thi s tra itor was begu i led ,And thou , instead o f having shunned his sightThis vi le wretch who thy mother ’ s l i fe did bl ightThou hast him shaken by the hand as friendAnd on hi s patronage did ’ st thou depend .

In darknes s thou’

st been kept , poor child , I see ,Or el se from him as from a plague thou ’

d flee . ’With fainting heart our heroine cou ld but pleadThe meaning of it al l her guest to read .

‘Some secret s orrow did I a lways knowWith me connected was , ’ she whispered low,

‘But my dear lost one said it would be bestTo bury it away and let it rest !But in my cedar desk the papers l ieWhich wil l reveal it al l i f I apply .

You say my father l ives , but that ’ s not soHis l o ss my mother ’ s heart did break with woe . ’Tormenting stil l , the elde r woman placedA s l ip of paper , which her hand encased ,In the cold fingers o f the suff ering girl .‘Pray read ! ’ and reading it , her sense s whirl .‘Wife of Love l l Fitzgerald ! No ! No !It cannot be— oh say it i s not so !Come , come at once and let me know the worst , ’Was from her s i ck heart now the cry that burst .Fast to the captain ’ s room she led her guestAnd handing her a key with the requestTo open now the cedar desk and knowBeyond a doubt the mystery of woe .

102

Bequeathed M id-OceanWith eager hands proof after proof was foundWhich crushed poor Oriana to the ground .

A sacred letter a l so cam e forth,sealed

With an inscription which the fact revea ledThat it wa s meant for Oriana ’ s eyesI f she to womanhood should ever ri se .With reverent hand she took the precious gi ftAnd to her l ips for hal lowed kis s did l ift

,

Then placed it in her bo som with a s igh !And Mahda Has san , watching , wondered whyShe opened not this letter from the grave

,

And bade her , in her ignorance , be brave .In softened manner she went on t o tel lO f all ca lamitie s that had be f e l ,And Oriana heard as from afarThe tidings that her future li fe wou ld mar .

The b itter truth came home to her at lastThat o ’

er her mother ’ s name a stain was cast ,And she the child o f her false father ’ s sin

The fe l l thought o f this fate her sou l d id wring .

‘N ow hate st thou this man ? ’ the quest ion cam e ,With breathles s haste ,

from the tormenting dame .‘I pity him ! ’ with eye s in tears that sw im‘God of a sure ty has forsaken him .

’

‘And angered not art thou w ith me thi s nightFor having brought his dark de ed s thu s to l ight ? ’‘Oh no ! ’ t i s only right tha t I shou ld shareMy mother ’ s sorrow and the c ro s s to bear ! ’‘Now rest , my child , and think the matter out .Thy mother ’ s friend was I , without a doubt ,And thine I too shall be . Strange friendship thi s ,To fire unwelcome truths and never mis s .

’

103

Bequeathed M id-Ocean

ALONE at last , poor Oriana kneltIn her dear lo st one ’ s room , and there she feltThe fulne ss o f thi s new and bitter st ing !And as reflection came

,the wail did ring ,

‘Oh Dearest ! Dearest ! thou wert ever k ind ,But thou to keep in peace my youthful mindDece ivedst me l — I’m nought but child o f s in ,Yet thou me prized and I thy heart did win .

’

Then at the heavenly throne she lays her cro s s,

With al l the blasts o f doubt her mind that to ss,

And prays for strength to bear the cru shing loadAnd right ful gu idance for her future road

,

That she might view with just and pitying eyeThe one who ’d cru shed her in the depths to lie .Then strengthened and refreshed she rose again !To read her mother ’ s words she now was fain .

With beat ing heart she drew forth from her breastThe sa cred prize and fondly it caressed .

‘Sweet mother, now to God ’ s right hand bequeathed ,Fear not for me , I shal l be brave , ’ she breathed .

With trembling fingers she now broke the sealThat would to her a mother ’ s l ove reveal .Her blinding tears fel l on the pages fastAs o ’er their faded l ine s her eyes she cast .‘My very dear and precious child , ’ she saw ,

As she commenced to read with hallowed awe ,‘I know not how or when thi s may perchanceFall to your lot to read , but I advance

104

Bequeathed M id-OceanThat when it does the hand that holds thi s penWill long be cold , and this fond heart wil l thenHave cea sed to beat . My days are numbered

,dear .

England I ne ’er shal l see again , ’ti s clear .B l ows followed blows in quick success ion , childAnd wrongs unlooked for on me fast have piled !My heart has fai led and strength indeed has gone ,But something yet for t hee there must be done .

Both night and day I pray there may be foundA last ing friend for thee , sincere and sound !And as the weakness o f my body grows ,The tide o f fa ith in this more strongly flow sThat thou ’ lt be tended , l oved , and cared for, pet .And thou , I hope , in years w i lt ne ’er forgetTo faithful be to God and eve r trueTo thine own conscience and the right pursue .

A day may come when thou must ne ed ’

st to knowThy mother ’ s fate and all her tale o f woe .

That thou should ’ st learn it from this pen of mine ,I would , my child— so hear my fate and thine .Thy grandsire ’ s name was honoured far and nearAnd lord was he of Gresford Priory , dear .Full many reigns of Vivians have been there ,

And I , Sir Poyntz ’

s only child and heir,Chose t o bestow my hand and heart on oneWhom my dear father wished not for a son !Yet he denied me nought , and I becameThe bride o f one who brought me only shame .My cousin Lovel l was the man I cho seLovel l Fitzgerald

,—and he was one o f those

Who live for pleasure , and with pain I addHis di ssipations too , I fear, were bad .

105

Bequeathed M id-OceanSti l l loved him much did I and dreamt grand dreamsThat mighty love l ike mine sometimes redeems !But ere hi s wi fe I ’d been one brief fortnightRevealed the fact wa s in it s true st l ightThat I no power had o ’er my husband ’ s l i feTo wean him from hi s dis sipations ri fe .Too well he knew me not to feel secureThat no reproach I ’d make , but would endure .In si lence suffered I neglect and pa in ,In si lence longed I to be back aga inAt the dea r Priory with my honoured sire ,Whose love and care for me could never tire .But nay— no step l ike thi s could be retraced !Both home and j oy beyond me now were placed .

Time passed and you , my litt le darl ing , cameAnd li fe for me no longer was the same .The clouds were l i fted and the sun shone bright ,New life pos sessed me and my heart wa s l ightMethought that thou might ’ st prove the da i sy-chainTo lead thy father ’ s l ove to me aga in .

Brief was the time that thi s sweet hope did gildMy shadowed path , the ca stle s I did bu i ldWere rudely shattered to the dust one day !D i spelled for t ime was cheering Hope ’ s bright ray .

There came to me a Parsee lady , child ,And told me- I— ! the thought stil l drive s me wild!Thy mother— was no wife , but only dupeO f him , thy sire— oh ! child , that he shou ld stoopTo such deceit . This lady was his wi fe !And I had loved him— l oved him more than li fe .God knows how hard for me it was to bearYea

,to bel ieve ! Alas ! I scarce could dare

106

Bequeathed M id-Ocean

To look the stern fact in the face for long,

Such agony of mind could I prolong .

My reason Providence in mercy spared,

For il lnes s vanquished care . When health repaired ,Afl righted I at desolat ion ’ s bane ,To have my father with me I was fainAnd I unwi sely wrote and told him allThen followed fatal shock and sudden cal l .It broke , alas ! my dearest father ’ s heartHis daughter ’ s grie f , his only child ’ s sad part .I stand a lone with the e , my l ittle petAn heires s too ! that fact I e ’en forget .In Chancery I have placed , my chi ld , for youAll Gre s ford Priory acres , old and new .

Thine all my riches are , cla im them you may .

Be kind to needy one s around , I pray !To sad and suff

’

ring souls thy pity showAnd cheer the darkened paths they have to go .

That with thy father thou ’ lt ne ’er meet , I trust !But should ’ st thou do , remember that thou mustForgive him , child , as I thy mother does ,And pray for him and love around him close .Long i s this letter, but I could go onUntil my few remaining days are doneTa lking to thee in di stant future daysWhen thou the world hast seen and all it s ways .I see thee now a-playing by my s ide ,Hindustani prattl ing in thy infant pride .I see another picture of thee , child ,When Time to womanhood hast thee beguiled .

I feel my daughter ’ s a rm s around my neck ,Our hot tears mingling o ’er thy mother’ s wreck .

I o7

Bequeathed M id-OceanTo my imagination ’ s fevered sightThe sympathy is sweet but now , good-night .Good—night , my darling , rest in God complete ,Till on the Resurrection Morn we meetAnd be united where no sin may stain

,

And all Eternity forget earth ’ s pain .

’

This precious letter Oriana readAnd clo se she felt to her dear mother dead .

She pondered over al l it s words conveyedAnd in her mind her father’ s sin surveyedThe thought o f that dread night aboard his yachtWhen he confederate was in that dark plot .— A sick

’

ning shiver pas sed through all her frameAs on his guilty part she dwelt with shame .Again she saw him at hi s si ster ’ s home ,World-worn and il l , and pity did o ’

ercome .

But here a me s sage come s to her in haste,

Requesting her no further t ime to waste .The Lady Gertrude Se lkrig sends t o sayShe must repa ir t o town without delay !Fitzgerald ’ s l i fe i s ebbing with fell speedAnd Oriana ’ s presence he doth plead .

Too late it was to start that very night ,But she would leave next morn at earlie st light .Roused now to action , she resolved to findThe wife and son of him who fi l led her mind ,And soon to Mahda , whom she find s alone ,She hands the message and in earnest toneBeseeches her to go and help to sootheAnd make the dying man ’s last moments smooth .

‘My child , you know not what you ask ! ’ she cried .‘I f saving him from death on thi s rel ied

108

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe brother then his sister ’ s hand did takeAnd with decis ion his resolve did make .‘Unworthy I should be o f brother ’ s nameI f I re frained from making thi s my aimTo feel a charge my si ster ’ s future wealAnd her protector be , both strong and leal .Our plans wil l altered be , - say, mother mine ,In this you do agree and will combine . ’‘My son , I l ive for thee and each new daySee s al l thy wishes mine , and so alway .

’

NE ! T day at early morn we se e them startTo fi l l their intricate and trying part ,And while they thus are speeding on their way,Toss ing in feveri sh pain their father lay !Full wel l he knew his time to l ive was bri e fAnd the one thought which caused him poignan

griefWas he might pass from li fe before his childM ight to her father yet be reconci ledFor he determined was to tel l her al l ,Tho ’ on strange ears the t idings ne ’er must fal l .L ist

’

ning in strange suspense as now time wore ,The sound of wheels he heard cease at the door,And Lady Gertrude hastened forth to greetThe girl whom anxiously she longed to meet .Surprised was she to see her not alone ,And more anon when with impre ssive tone

I IO

Bequeathed M id-OceanDid Oriana to her introduceHer brother— volunteering no excuse .Hearing at once the s ick man ’ s anxious state

,

Without delay she begged on him to wait .‘Alone thi s interview I crave , ’ she said !And Gertrude marvelled where the myst ’ry led .

Cleared now the room , and with a bea ting heartOur Oriana entered on her part .No formal greeting had the maid preparedAs she towards the dying-bed repaired .Her heart was full , and awestruck she did standWhen she beheld the stamp o f death ’ s chil l handSo plainly marked upon the sufl ’

rer’

s face .Closed are hi s eyes , but his pale fingers traceSome nervous symbols ’cros s hi s eyes and brow !In feveri sh thought hi s brain seems working now .

The girl knelt down and gentle hand she laidOn his whi ch now on s ilken coverlet played .

‘Father ! ’ she whispered , ‘I have come at last . ’The sick man started and with look aghast ,‘Child , what meaneth thi s ? Where fore thi s name ?Heard I a right or are mine ears to b lame ? ’‘I cal led thee father ! dost thou not know ? ’Then , bodily weakness or contrit ion ’ s woeImpos s ible to te l l— whiche

’

er the cause ,But long the great tears rol led without a pauseDown the pained face of him who had dared al lAnd naught had feared and naught e ’er did appa l .The girl aro se and tenderly she prestHer father ’ s brow with soothing k i s s o f re st .‘Be calm , my father ! mother thee forgave ,And so do I . Thy malady i s grave !

I I I

Bequeathed M id-OceanEternity is near ! I pray that peaceFrom God may rest on thee and e ’er increase ! ’‘My child , my child ! ’ he gasped , ‘who has so daredTo tel l thee how thy noble mother fared ? ’‘Hush , father ! none has dared . ’Tis wel l t o knowThe truth and heaven ’ s just penance undergo .My father, are thou strong enough to bearA great surprise —i f so , do now prepare ,For one there i s who now comes to thy roomWho will , methinks , with gladness cheer thy gloom .

’

Then to the s ick-room silently did glideA noble youth , whom she now did confideUnto her new- found father ’ s dying careAs his own true-born son— his legal heir .Their hands met , and a long and earnest l ookThe father and the son for moments t ook .

Each felt the power of speech from him had fled .

At last , in stricken voice , the s ick man said !‘A sad re -union this , methinks , my son ,In me you see a wreck whose li fe i s done . ’’Ti s better, father, thus t o meet than ne ’er, ’His son made answer in a soothing air .Then quietly O riana slipped away,For they had many private words to say .

Within an hour, when she again returned ,More strong her father seemed ! his heart now turnedWith true anxiety for his chi ldren ’ s weal ,For one more year o f l i fe he groaned aloud ,Now sunshine for him had dispel led the cloud .‘My wealth , ’ he said , ‘my daughter will pos se s s !But thi s

,indeed , need cause me no distre s s ,

For she will share it with her brother now .

’

I I 2

Bequeathed M id-OceanAnd with emotion this the prayer she said‘Glory to Thee , O Lord ! and praise heartfeltFor this great goodnes s to Thy servants dealtThat we together suppl iants at Thy throneMay plead Thy boundles s mercy for our own !Revealed t o Thee are secrets of the heart ,Grant to my father ere he doth depart ,Oh, God ! fulfi lment o f contrit ion ’ s want ,And Thy forgiving mercy to him grant .May Thy D ivine will spa re him ling ’

ring pain ,And , Oh , receive hi s pass ing soul to gainEternal rest with Thee . Hear, Lord , our cry !And may Thy Presence with us e ’er be by .

Amen ! ’ And Lovel l ’ s echo came , ‘Amen .

‘God grant , dear girl , ’ continuing then ,‘That thy l i fe may as pure be to the endAs in the past . Thanks to that noble fri endTo thee who was a father, teacher, guide,In his wi se ways thou ever wilt abide .Shalt thou in future make thy lasting homeWith him who now into thy li fe has come ,Thy brother ? ’ ‘Nay, father,‘ came the answer so ft ,‘But s i ster ’ s part to him I ’ l l act , and meet him o ft . ’His sight , now dim , her every movement viewedWith ca lm content as she her watch renewed .

Among hi s pil lows he lay back to rest,His pale hands quietly folded on his breast .And Oriana hoped he lay in prayer .This thought sweet comfort to her heart did bear .

The mantel clock the hour o f two had chimed ,Her anxious vigil seemed to her long timed .

1 14

Bequeathed M id-OceanThe mid-night hours their sti lly si lence kept

,

The watcher ’ s eyelids closed , and— yes —she slept .In fancy ’ s dream she spirit garlands woveRound the s ick mortal for whom pity strove .With start she woke , and checked her wand ’

ringmind ,

Lengt h of neglected duty she must find .

She found that only twenty minutes ’ spaceHad been the ful l exces s o f her disgrace .Her patient had not stirred , and as she bentO ’er hi s sti l l form , a chil l ing breath there wentHer whole frame through— that look she ’d seenbefore .

The soul had passed ! ay, passed for ever more .Rous ing the household with the greatest ha ste ,They flocking came , and did no moment waste .Too latk for Love l l had the portal cro ssedWhich mortals al l must cross , smoothwise or tossed .

Transition in thi s case had taken placeIn soothing sleep , and there rema ined no traceO f quiv ’

ring tremor or a passing sighTo signi fy the part ing soul ’ s good-bye .Mysterious are the ways of God in thi s .A man whom few indeed had cause to miss ,For se lf and pleasure he had l ived through l ife ,And caused the keenest sufl ’

ring , pain , and stri fe .Few actions good could to his name record ,Although on him were earth ’ s fair treasures poured .

! e t his impri soned soul with tender easeDid God in his great myst ’ry thus release ,When oft our bleeding stricken heart s are tornTo see the agonies of good men borne .Men good and noble , loved , and missed , and grieved ,

1 1 5

Bequeathed M id-OceanYet rack ing pain they bear ti ll l i fe ’ s rel ieved .

Sti l l to our wounded heart s and anguish qualm !

‘God loveth whom he chas’neth, ’ comes as balm .

Fitzgerald ’ s death gave l ittle cause for grief ,Remembrance o f him in his world was bri ef !Only a pass ing nine days ’ wonder thatIn his funereal stately coach there satHis wife and son arrived in Eng land hereWhose home had been another hemisphere .There also float-ed rumour ’ s whispers grimThat Edith Vivian had been wronged by him ,

And Gresford Priory ’ s heiress nothing moreThan the young bri l l iant art ist met before .Scanda l ro se rampant for a l ittle spaceWhich brought a blush to O riana ’ s face .She l onged to shelter in her Welsh retreat ,But ca l ls on time with men of law to meetPrevented her thi s longing to atta in ,For yet some little t ime she must remain .

Her mother ’ s land and home at once she claimed ,Her dying w i shes to obey she aimed .

Awakened to her vaster dutie s now,She made to heav ’

n a solemn , sacred vowTo lend to hi ghe st end thi s gen’

rous trust ,For which to render an account she mustWhen she , too , pa sse s on to Judgment Day,

That waits for each and al l , come when it may .

ONCE more at home , she sadly walks aroundThe ga rden that she loves as hallowed ground

,

1 1 6

Bequeathed M id-OceanBoth glad and sad did Oriana goThe honour of his visit then to know .

He came his suit to p lead with her again,And though full well assured ’twas all in vain ,He pleaded e ’en to have a part all owedIn her li fe-work . Her head she bowed ,And hot tears fi l l ed her eye s as she inquires‘My Lord Greenleaves can sti l l have these desires !Hast thou not heard crue l rumours o f my shame ,My Mother ’ s wrongs and my own tainted name ? ’‘Were the whole world to rai se its loudest voice ,To come to thee again I would rej o ice . ’‘Thou

’

rt good , and deepest grat itude ,I fe el

For fri endship thus unshaken you reveal !But what thou ask’

st , my lord , can never be ,Inheritance o f shame must die with me .I ne ’er shal l wed , but much I need a friend .

Wilt thou my truest friend be t o the end ?Give me thy counsel in my new li fe sphere ,Together with my brother l iving near .Then bravely I may face the future ’s t ideWith such supporters waiting at my side . ’To Lord Greenleave s she showed her cottage plans .And he his eye o f interest o ’er them scans .He makes suggestions , some which please her much ,In many thoughts and taste s they came in t ouch .

To her Lord Greenleaves shone in strange new light,And when departure came both heart s were bright .He le ft engaged— but so in friendship ’ s ties ,And thus he wil l remain t il l e ither dies .A lett er to her brothe r he did bear,And soon he made it hi s especial care

1 1 8

Bequeathed M id-OceanTo go to him— and that short vis it provedThat kindred spirit s in them both had moved .

They both agreed to Oriana oughtA change of scene and travel to be brought .Mayhap she might forget her gri e f o f late ,And once more taste her happy former state .Mahda Fitzgera ld ! for so she now i s named ,Be fore t imes she ’d not deigned thi s to have claimed! .Her hatred o f that name is of the past ,And she her true pos it ion holds at last .Mahda desires they start without delay,The girl she loves and near her l ikes to stay .

AN int’

rest ing quartette we see one dayFrom Charing Cross start on their p il grim way .My Lord Greenleaves, young Lovel l ! such his name! ,Mahda , and Oriana formed the same !But stay, alas ! the noble Dash we miss ,He , too , i s there , and goes— remember this .In Pari s they remain one happy week ,And all for Oriana ’ s plea sure seek .

In Mahda does a strong affection growFor thi s young girl she ’d dealt so fel l a blow .

But Rome , maje st ic Rome , the girl inspires ,The masters ’ genius there her bosom fires .Amany pleasant days and months they spendIn this old home of interest s without end .

And there with awe did Oriana mee t .True art and culture at their highest seat

1 19

Bequeathed M id-Ocean

Ere since to her the revelation cameO f that sad secret of her time-stained nameHer wonted robe of white was strait way changed ,And sombre black for it had been exchanged .

In Rome Lord Greenleaves her a token gaveO f friendship that would last beyond the grave .It took the form of golden armlet rope,Faith symbol ised with Charity and Hope .On her white arm himsel f he clasped it there ,And it through li fe d id Oriana wear .E ’en when the curtain o f her last sleep fel lRemained on her cold arm this friendship spel l .

Their t ime in Rome was nearing now it s close !But ere they left another grie f arose .Dash , noble Dash, the ever- faithful friend ,Was here hi s aged and honoured days to end .The tea rs were bitter Oriana shed !The last j oy of the happy past had fledDear gentle , loving Dash in Rome lay dead ,Ital ian soil would cover soon hi s head .

An ardent nobleman whom she had metA Pa lace garden tomb gave to her pet .And there hi s body rests in princely stat-eBeneath a marble stone with name and date .

AT Gresford Pri ory they arrived one day,

And Oriana there begins her sway .1 20

Bequeathed M id-OceanN ow we our last and tender leave must takeO f her whom with reluctance we forsake .In l i fe ’ s mid-afternoon we leave her there

,

As beauti ful as yore and e ’en more fair .See her now sitting on the Priory lawn

,

And at her side , as i f by magnet drawn,Nigel , Lord Greenleave s, on whom depends shemost

For friendly aid . His love she ’ s never lost .Farewell , sweet Oriana , speed thy work !May no sad secret sorrow in thee ‘ lurk.

A saintly ha l o thy sweet name surroundsFrom those good deeds o f which thy l i fe abounds .

EDINBURGH ! . C. THOMSONA T T H E M ER CA T P R E S S

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