Hayne home

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

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Chapter I. A Secret Marriage

A syllable of dew that drips From out a lily’s laughing lips Could not be sweeter than the word I listened to, yet never heard.

For, oh, the woman hiding there Within the shadows of her hair,

Spake to me in an imdertone So delicate my soul alone But understood it as a moan Of some weak melody of wind A heavenward breeze had left behind.

— James Whitcomb Riley.

On a dull, leaden morning in April, when the sky flashed forth vivid streaks of lightning, and the rain threatened every moment to descend in a torrent, a carriage, drawn by spirited black horses, dashed along a country road and stopped before a gray stone church, that rested on a little knoll whose green sward was thickly dotted with delicate harebells. The land around was, for the most part, low and marshy, but the old graveyard, with its time-stained marble slabs looming up dismally against the background of threatening

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clouds, and the church, with its old-fashioned steeple pointing faithfully upwards, were on higher ground, and could be seen for miles around, gleaming in the sunlight or nestling calmly with their dead on this slight eminence, the target of the weather’s humor.

The carriage stopped at the sun-warped stile, and the driver, instead of springing down and opening the door, called, in a stealthy voice, “ Mr. Warwich ! Hello ! ” Immediately a young man and woman appeared at the door of the church, the former stepping mincingly over the walk that spanned the yard from the door to the stile. Opening the carriage door, he stood smiling and bowing, with his hands held at half-mast in the most approved fashion — to show their shapeliness. A young man with bright, handsome features and gentlemanly bearing descended from the carriage, and, turning to the man in waiting, remarked, pleasantly, “Everything is in readiness, I hope, Philip .? ”

“lam sorry, Lawrence,” replied the gentleman addressed, “the minister has not come; yet it is not nine o’clock. I am sure he will be on time. ” Lawrence Hayne then assisted his companion — a sweet, shylooking girl— to alight. Philip grasped her hands in both his, and exclaimed, with undue enthusiasm :

“Ah, my dear Adele ! So glad to find you looking as usual — charming.”

“I don’t charming, Philip. I am a little bit frightened, I think,” she replied, with a great attempt at brightness.

“Tush, child! You are over-excited; but a few minutes’ rest will allay your fears. Come into the church ; my wife is waiting to receive you.”

She accepted his proffered arm and crossed over the

A SECRET MARRIAGE.

stile. Lawrence gave some directions to the man on the box, and, after bidding him hasten back, the former followed Philip Warwich and Adele Moore to the vine-covered door. Addressing the young lady, he said, kindly :

“Adele, I think we have time to take a short walk before the minister arrives. Shall we do so, and try to brace up our courage .? ”

“Yes, Lawrence. That little cemetery looks so quiet and pretty I should like to walk there awhile." She smiled prettily at the couple standing under the woodbine as she took her lovers arm and walked away.

Dick Turner was the coachman. When he descended the hill, at a speedy trot, he came to an opening in the wood, drew in the reins, and looked about him anxiously. Only for a moment, however. A few feet away he saw a horse in ambush, nibbling contentedly at the leaves about him. Dick sounded a short ‘ ‘ Hist ! " between his teeth, answered immediately by“ Ahem ! ” and later a figure emerged from thick shrubbery, stepped lightly over the grassy soil to where the vehicle stood, and spoke patronizingly to Dick, who had jumped from the box and was tying the horses. “They are at the church and are in a hurry, " remarked the coachman.

“ That is fortunate for me, as I have to solemnize a marriage this afternoon. Two weddings a day are rather encouraging for the young people. Can you tell me anything further relative to the condition of this marriage.!^ I always like to know as much as possible about the circumstances, for sometimes these runaway matches are troublesome. ’’

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“They are that! But there is no objection to this, excepting that the lady’s father was cut out by the boy’s stepfather. The boy can’t help that, you know.’^

Meanwhile Lawrence Hayne and his beautiful betrothed sauntered arm-in-arm through the neglected graveyard. The folds of her dark travelling dress brushed the tall grasses and passed softly over the edge of the mounds, as she occasionally leaned forward to read an inscription.

Lawrence looked manly and altogether fearless, with eyes full of admiration and love for the girl at his side. On the contrary, she was pale and very much frightened, and all her efforts to seem gay and happy showed her only how frail her courage really was. At length she turned to her companion and whispered, as though afraid the dead might rise up and listen :

“ Lawrie, I am so afraid something terrible will follow such a marriage as this. Every peal of thunder sounds to me like an awful premonition.”

“I am so sorry, dear Adele, that we should have chosen such a hapless day for our marriage, but I don't think you should let such dread fancies crowd happiness away. You would rather marry me this way than not at all, would you not.? ”

‘ ‘ Oh, dear, yes ; but ”

“Because if I thought your scrupulous conscience would reproach you, I should be sorry I persuaded you into it. ”

“I shall feel perfectly safe when I am your wife; but even my marriage will not thwart papa much. ”

“When you are my wife your father will have to acknowledge himself thwarted. At any rate, a man who

A SECRET MARJ^IAGE.

will ruin his child’s happiness for revenge ought to be thwarted. ”

“You have no reason to like him, I know, Lawrie, but don’t speak ill of him, for I have left him for you. ”

For answer Lawrence raised her hand to his lips and allowed her to continue.

“Haven’t you the least apprehension, Lawrence.?”

“ None in the least, dear. See, there, what a glorious burst of sunshine right over our heads; and see again, we are standing beside a grave that has clasped hands carved on it ! That, we will assume, signifies our life together. Well, Old Sol is rather ungenerous after all. He has crept back again ; but a cloudy wedding-day, while it is certainly unpleasant, is not portentous.”

They had wandered into the churchyard, when Lawrence observed the little gloved hands folded carelessly on his arm, and cried :

‘ ‘ Why, Adele, no flowers .? Who ever heard of a bride without flowers .? ” Stooping, he gathered a large cluster of harebells, and laughingly presented them to her. She took them, kissed them, and said, shyly :

‘ ' I wish these sweet little bells would ring out and foretell my future.’’

“What ! Would you transform a harebell into a necromancer.? No, my dear ; let me foretell your future ; have you any faith in my power .? ”

“I have unlimited faith in your intention, so you may begin your revelations. I am all attention. ”

“ Well, fair lady — as the gypsies would say — you are soon to wed the man you love. Am I not right .? ” looking earnestly into her face.

“Yes, go on.”

“And who loves you above every earthly thing?’'

lO

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“I hope SO. But you must not stop to see if you are correct. The gypsies don't do that:"

“ No ? Well, then, you will go abroad and spend a year in Italy ; you will be supremely happy, and, when you return, your now irate father will receive you with wide-open arms ; you will settle down in a cosy, comfortable home and be the joy and light of your husband’s life ‘ever after.’ How do you like my prognostic harangue ? ’’

“Very well; your prognostications must always be encouraging because of your hopeful temperament ;

I wish I were more so.’’

“You will be, after you get among brighter associations. Hello ! there comes Dick with the clergyman. ’’

“ I was going to say if he did not come soon I should be obliged to gather a fresh bouquet, as these will not live long; they are such short-lived little things.’’

“They must live to ring out your wedding march, since the good brethren of this parish would be scandalized to know that their organ had been subjected to anything so giddy as a wedding march. ’’

Tinkle, tinkle little bells, tinkle loudly to warn her of the grief that lies in store for her ! Ring out your clearest notes, not in a wedding march, but a warning to tell her not to meet this awful doom ; tinkle, bells — quickly, loudly, before she crosses the sacred threshold !

Ah ! bells, you do not ring, and she passes through the vine-covered door, where the ivy thrusts out its delicate tendrils and kisses her face to tell her that it were better to live under the bane of her father’s stern will forever than throw herself before this unhappy fate ! But though the ivy kisses her face and clings to her garments, and twines itself about her white throat, she heeds it not.

A SECRET MARRIAGE.

II but enters the church where the shadows within those gloomy, molding walls flit before her, behind her, over her, and about her ; they nestle upon her white brow, and quiver and quake because they have no voice to cry out. But their pantomimic warning is as naught to her. The voice of the clergyman is weak, and falters as he, with fear and trembling, asks the questions of the service ; but she does not hear it ; she is listening for the voice of the flowers at her breast as they rise and fall with her quick breathing, shaking their tiny bells, but their chimes are so soft she cannot hear them !

“If there be any one here who knows just cause why these two may not be joined together, let him now speak or else hereafter forever hold his peace !

Bells, you know the cruel deception and fraud that awaits her ! Tinkle louder, louder! Forbid the bans! Shriek it out, so that the winds of heaven, kissing the fair young bride, may waft your warning to her ears !

Tinkle again and again, that your sweetest chimes may call on the all-wise God in supplication, to spare this poor helpless girl 1 Ah, timid bells, you do not ring! She does not know !

“What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder ! ”

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CHAPTER IL

A BIT OF HISTORY.

Fool ! vain shall thou guard thyself ! vain Shall thy hope be to prosper ! Thy breed Shall henceforth be subjects of greed,

And perish of loss and of pain !

Their schemes shall all wither in hand !

Ere long not an inch of the land Shall be his that a Phillipson owns !

And in wretched Calgrath you never again Shall be rid of us haunting its stones.

— Mary Barker Dodge,

Hayne Home was a beautiful homestead lying in the northern part of Kentucky, near the Ohio shore. The house was old and grdy. There was moss on the roof ; and the trees were large and spread graciously over the spacious door-yard ; behind the house was an old-fashioned garden ; there were hollyhocks, primroses, cypress, and marigolds. The garden was encircled by a picket fence, old and bleached. The gravel walks, which cut the lawn into geometrical curves, were kept scrupulously clean, and the soft, green turf was the result of constant care.

The charming mistress of Hayne Home had been twice married ; when her first husband — James Hayne — died, he left her in moderately comfortable circumstances, the homestead surrounded by a few acres of rich land being the extent of her legacy. Her two chil-

A BIT OF HISTORY.

dren were twin boys, six years old, whom she called Lawrence and Charles.

Mill Creek was a small stream of water dividing Hayne Home from Wicksburr, the home of John Warwich. This honorable and intelligent gentleman had survived his wife four years when James Hayne died. There was only one child left to brighten the hours in Mr. Warwich’s home, and that child, Philip, was — I regret to say — a typical descendant of his mother’s family, crafty and designing, with an imperturbable determination to gratify self at any cost. Since he had reached the age when boys first realize the gratification money begets, he had kept a vigilant eye on his fathers enormous estate, knowing that, sooner or later, he would succeed his father and reign sole possessor of this magnificent domain. Affairs looked promising, certainly ; hitherto his father had unconsciously spurred Philip’s vanity and anticipation by trying to infuse a little ambition into his ruinously laggard mind. And it is reasonable to suppose that with this desire in view, while the parent passed through vistas of vexation and disappointment, the son’s hope was buoyed by the father’s increasing energy.

Philip was twelve and Lawrence and Charlie Hayne were nine years old when John Warwich announced to Philip his intention of marrying the exemplary widow Hayne. Philip was wild with anger. His father coaxed, pleaded, and cajoled, but the boy would not be appeased ; he vehemently declared that he would not receive her as his superior ; threatened to make her life so distasteful here that she would be glad to resign after a short experience, and with such unpardonable effrontery defied his father that the latter in the heat of passion, declared if, by any action of Philip’s, her life there

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proved distasteful, Philip should be disinherited and Lawrence should reign instead.

This had the desired effect, inasmuch as it served lo quench Philip’s outward rebellion, but it only added fuel to the fire of hatred.

So they were married — these neighbors who had lived side by side so many years, little dreaming that the wedlock which seemed to them consistent with their habits and tastes would bring about such an undeserved calamity.

John Warwich formed a sincere attachment for his wife’s son — Lawrence ; the boy’s aptitude at learning, his adroitness at managing, and his interest in all mercantile pursuits, were all golden in the eyes of the stepfather. He loved the boy, and that part of his nature which Philip with his unprincipled habits and indolence could never hope to win had been gratified by Lawrence's intellectual vigor.

Philip was too shrewd and too intensely .suspicious not to observe this. It goaded him to hate Lawrence with all a boy’s hot passion. He made many attempts to smirch the purity of Lawrence’s character, but the latter, with his clear sense of honor, invariably came out unscathed, much to his step-father’s delight.

At the time of Mrs. Hayne’s marriage, another household in that community was thrown into chaos. Frederic Moore, an artist of reputed wealth, had paid marked attention to Mrs. Hayne, and on one occasion had driven over to her home, and, in a few elaborately prepared remarks, made known the desire of his heart — that she should be his wife. She kindly but firmly rejected him. He went away sad, but not discouraged ; the widow was, he thought, a little coy, but would eventually

A BIT OF HISTORY.

make him the proudest man extant by permanently residing- at his fireside.

But while he loitered concocting persuasive material, John Warwich won her. Frederic Moore exhibited intense chagrin when informed of the marriage, and being a man of relentless disposition — never having been known to forgive a wrong — allowed this one disappointment to embitter his whole life. The result was that thereafter existed a feud between the families that promised deplorable results.

Adele Moore was at this time six years old, too young to comprehend the mysterious developments about her ; she was much terrified at her father’s ferocity upon this occasion, but could never fully understand the cause of their ruptured peace.

Years rolled on apace. The Warwich household was comparatively a happy one, inasmuch as Mr. Warwich and his wife were perfectly congenial, he being indubitably a most affectionate father and husband. His first marriage proved a mistake, and,- after living several years with a woman of the former Mrs. Warwich’s erratic disposition (pleased to-day with the identical thing that yesterday aroused all the ire in her unusually antagonistic nature) it is no wonder that this home, where everything seemed harmonious and cheerful, opened unto him an earthly paradise.

Do not imagine, dear reader, that their home was perfect in its harmony; there was an ^in that circle, just as there must be in every other affair of this world ; indeed, we would soon grow into mere mechanical functionaries if we were all perfect. So this pleasant little family had a hitch, and, as might be suspected, Philip created it. Notwithstanding the temporary fear he had i6

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experienced at his father s threat, he had made himself particularly obtrusive to his step-mother. The peace and quiet were broken occasionally at first, but Mrs. Warwich was one woman among a thousand, and understood so well how to meet Philip's advances that, after awhile, he not only stood in awe of her, but acknowledged that she possessed a magnetism too strong for him to cope with.

But he would not or could not like her boys ; so a separation was deemed advisable, which was effected by Philip’s going to school ; where he remained until he was twenty years old ; and, although he passed creditably and retained the respect of the students and faculty, yet it was evident that the most he had learned was to dress faultlessly, handle his cigarette gracefully, and poise his walking-stick after the latest code.

Philip was an immaculate dandy.

In the meantime, Lawrence and Adele, true to the characteristics of the human family, attempted to reach the grapes that hung highest, oblivious of the luscious fruit which hung just within their reach. There were a dozen pair of bright eyes resting on Lawrence’s face from time to time. Lips had smiles for him and cheeks blushed rosy red at his approach. Yet he did not see these. He saw a face beyond that made his pulses thrill and heart beat fast, and told him plainer than words could have done that this was the one girl for him : and this girl was the daughter of his mother’s adversary.

Capricious souls ! Going out to meet sorrow when gladness lies around you, waiting to be recognized !

A STERN FATHEK.

Chapter III. A Stern Father

I hated — the world was a world full of demons ;

No face there but harbored a treacherous lie.

The skies were as midnight — the sun’s face was hidden ;

I shrank from the scream of the ieagulls near by.

The voice of the robin was harsh and discordant,

I forgave not a foe, and with bent head and anger,

I passed all my friends with a dark, sullen scowl.

— Hannah B. Gage.

In order to make my narrative lucid I must continue the family history, but will be as brief as practicable.

Philip had been at home six months, when Lawrence and Charlie were sent away to school. Their vacation was fast approaching, v/hen one day Frederic Moore astonished Adele by proclaiming his intention of sending her to Madame Maley’s boarding school, and concluded by saying that, as soon as her education there was deemed complete, she should begin the study ot painting, an accomplishment she particularly coveted.

She did not in the least regret leaving home ; on the contrary, she looked forward with enthusiasm to the time when she should be at liberty to consult her own wishes in preference to those of her irritable parent. Consequently, she hailed with pleasure his announcement, and assured him she would do all in her power to make her progress not only sure but speedy.

Much gratified at her ready acquiescence, he deemed

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it best to strike while the iron was hot, and continued, cleverly :

“Then I would suggest, my dear Adele, that you start by next Saturday noon ; I shall be going to the city then, and shall take great satisfaction in seeing you safely ensconced in Madame Maley’s parlors. I shall write her immediately.”

Next Saturday at noon? And Lawrence would be home at five ?

Her father’s words fell cold and hard upon her ears ; she did not dream that his arrangements were previously made, and that his mind was fixed as firmly as a stone wall. She timidly suggested that the best course would be for her to spend Sunday at home and start for school on Monday morning ; but her father would not hear of it ; at first he essayed to assume that he had no other object in thus hastening her departure than the fact of his having to go away, and the gratification it would afford him to personally introduce her to her future preceptress. Then, again, he urged that it would be a bad beginning to break in upon the first of the week, but she was so persistent in her entreaties, and appeared so grieved, that he became fearful lest he should yield, and perhaps, too, a bit of remorse stung him to anger, for he burst out in rudest tones, saying :

“Adele, not another word! I understand why you would like to remain at home over Sunday. Though you have stooped to some cunning devices to deceive me, you have not been so cunning as you imagine. I learned only a short time since that you had been holding clandestine meetings with that nasty little ”

“Papa, please do not!” cried Adele, springing up;

A STERN FATHER.

but her father pushed her back, and with a gesture commanded silence. He glowered at her a moment ; then, with the most withering scorn, said :

‘ ‘ If you were anything but the little, incipient chit that you are, I might feel uneasy. As it is, I could give you a good spanking and send you to bed. But I intend to put a stop to this right here, and the sooner you recognize my authority and respect it, the better it will be for you.”

“ But, papa,” implored Adele, ‘‘ he has done nothing to deserve your hatred. It is ungenerous of you to treat us so cruelly. If you were doing it for my good, I should not demur, but would thank you in the end for your consideration. As it is, your objections seem unfounded.”

“ Unfounded, girl ! When I hate him worse than any worm that crawls I ”

Adele looked the contempt she felt, but replied with great calmness :

“Father, Lawrence is honest, and is a true gentleman, as you very well know. Yet you hate him simply because his mother wou ”

Adele Moore, he silent! you impertinent girl;” he cried, angrily, and the girl arose and walked toward the door, sayings sadly : “Well, papa, to satisfy your cruel whim, I shall be ready to start on Saturday ; you evidently think that incipient little chits ’have no sense of feeling ; if you will recalLyour own youth, you will be better able to judge. I have been told that you were an impassioned youth.”

Frederic Moore stood during this recital like one stunned ; he had never heard Adele express herself in an insolent manner before; she had always been gentle,

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SO submissive and loving, that to hear her speak in such a spirited tone was something to create wonder. The last thrust, coming as it did in such reproachful reminder, was too much for Mr. Moore’s patience ; frenzied, he rushed toward her, exclaiming :

“It makes no difference, my girl, what my youth was. I intend to mold yours to my own notion ; and it shall not be for a Hayne, either. Y ou choose to thwart me by the assumption of a new role, Adele. I presume that is due to his influence and

“No,” she essayed to reply.

“Never mind; his influence hereafter will amount to very little, since you shall be so effectually separated that you will learn to respect your father’s wishes, and to address him properly.”

“Papa, one word more. You have been a good father to me in a financial way. So long as I come and go at your rather changeable fancy, and perform faithfully the offices which you choose to call a daughter’s duty, you are respectful and kind — nothing more. But, papa, you forget that I have never had a sister in whom to confide, or a mother to whom I could go for counsel ; you never have allowed me to mingle with girls outside of the school-room, and you rarely ever deign to notice me yourself ; now, tell me, is it possible fo.r a girl full of youth and mirth to associate with no one but a kind old servant, without turning imbecile — even if she does not do anything desperate } What kind of a girl do you think I am ? ”

Her father had no reply to make ; all she said was true ; yet he could have struck her for telling him the truth.

“ Say, papa, what kind of a girl do you think I am ? ”

A STERN FATHER.

I think you are the most ungrateful girl Heaven ever sent. You do not appreciate the advantages you possess ; you have gotten some silly, romantic notions into your foolish head, and the advice of a poor, old-fashioned father has no more weight than a feather. If your isolation is the cause of your imbecility, perhaps your school-life will cure it. You are so anxious for female companions, you shall have them to your heart’s content. ”

“It is too late now. My fate is sealed as firmly as iron.”

“Don’t begin to harp. You will leave here Saturday, at noon ; and there will be no whining about it, either. When Lawrence arrives, in the evening at six, he will, I presume, be amazed to find that he has been outwitted by an old man. ”

He took a grim satisfaction in the pain he inflicted.

The pathos in the deep, dark eyes, and the white, quivering lips, did not appeal to his sympathies.

Adele started to the door. Her father, like an automatic figure, followed her with his eyes. Upon reaching the threshold, she turned and bent upon him a look so cold and sad that it stung him worse than the severest rebuke ; and having contained himself as long as it were possible, he darted forward, and, grasping her arm in a vise-like grip, exclaimed : “ Why, in the name of

Fate, don’t you say something } ”

“Fate has left me nothing to say.”

“Then go to your room and get ready for your departure, and don’t stand there like a petrified mummy ! ” he exclaimed furiously.

She went away without a word, and, when she reached her own room, threw herself down upon the floor and

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cried, just as many other girls have cried when older heads have tried to govern younger hearts. Adele, poor child, thought no fate was ever so bad as hers. In after years she looked back to that day and wondered why she had wept over that separation, when there was grief in store for her that would consume all her tears.

But she did not know that life held realities stranger and sadder than fictitious romance. She had that to learn, and she learned it from experience.

When she had exhausted her strength, and found that by so doing, she was gaining nothing and doing herself ^n injustice, she got up and began an inspection of her v^drobe, which was really superior to that of any youpg lady in the vicinity. Her father took great satisfactipn in seeing his daughter dressed well. In fact, he prided himself in anything that reflected credit on his bajtk account or liberal purse-strings.

|They werd fead days to Adele, and still sadder were tijose following her departure. She entered upon her school duties in an aimless sort of way ; but, being naturally quick, requiring only about half the amount of study that her companions needed, she was able, without any difficulty, to keep pace with her class. She was always looking forward to her vacation, not that she longed to see her father and spend a month in the glare of his disagreeableness ; yet the longing for home was strong within her, just as much so as though her home awaited her with all the allurements that girls are wont to enjoy.

The word “home '' covers a myriad of circumstances. Compare them ! It is a vain attempt. It is not wealth that constitutes home : for the house may be old, with tattered walls and an old-fashioned white-washed fence

A STERN FA TffER.