KATHRINA ^. If- ^\\ KATHRIIA HER LIFE AND MINE IN A P O E M >/ Bv J. G. HOLLAND Illustrations by W. J. HEN NESS Y .axd C. C. GRISWOLD Engraved by VV. J. LINTON ^■)' Op W/'v' NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER & COMPANY MliCCCI.XlX l\ y Pa^e w . J. Hennessy 82 c. C. Griswold 88 w . J. PIenxessy 91 114 119 123 130 134 144 153 • 157 161 . 165 u 166 168 169 169 171 174 196 200 (t c> 234 241 243 XI 1 List of Illustrations Tail-piece ..... Plead-piece to " Despair " . Head-piece to sub-title, Part IV. Tail-piece to sub-title, Part IV. . Head-piece to " Consummation " " And mocking me " . " Again I trod the forest paths " "The sheen of multitudes " " In the East, tinged with the golden dawn ' Tail-piece to Kathrina . . . . Drawn by Page w J. Hennessy 244 245 249 249 ". 251 252 c. C. Griswold 259 w J. Hennessy 263 c. C. Griswold 279 w . J. Hennessy 281 KATHRINA A TRIBUTE More human, more divine than we — In truth, half human, hah^ divine — Is woman, when good stars agree To temper with their beams benign The hour of her nativity. The fairest flower the green earth bears, Bright with the dew and Hght of heaven. Is, of the double life she wears. The type, in grace and glorv given By soil and sun in equal shares. Kat/irina True sister of the Son of Man : True sister of the Son of God : What marvel that she leads the van Oi those who. in the path He trod. Still bear the cross and wear the ban ? If God be in the sky and seii. And live in light and ride the storm. Then God is God, although He be Enshrined within a woman'^s form ; And claims glad reverence from me. So, as I worship Him in Christ, And in the Forms of Earth and Air, I worship him miparadised, And throned within her bosom fair Whom vanity hath not enticed. O ! woman — mother / Woman — wife ! The sweetest names that language knows ! Thv breast, with holy motives rife. With holiest afteclion glows. Thou queen, thou angel of my life ! Kathrijia Noble and fine in his degree Is the best man my heart receives ; And this my heart's supremest plea For him : he feels, acts, lives, believes, And seems, and is, the likest thee. O men ! O brothers ! Well I know That with her nature in our souls Is born the elemental woe — The brutal impulse that controls, And drives, or drags, the godlike low. Ambition, appetite, and pride — These throng and thrall the hearts of men These plat the thorns and pierce the side Of Him who, in our souls again. Is spit upon, and crucified. The greed for gain, the thirst for power, The lust that blackens while it burns : Ah ! these the whitest souls deflour ! And one, or all of these by turns, Rob man of his divinest dower ! Kathrina Yet man, who shivers Hke a straw Before Temptation's Hghtest breeze, Assumes the master — gives the law To her who, on her bended knees, Resists the black-winged thunder-flaw ! To him who deems her weak and vain, And boasts his own exceeding might, She clings through darkest fortune fain ; Still loyal, though the ruffian smite ; Still true, though crime his hands distain ! And is this weakness ? Is it not The strength of God, that loves and bears Though He be slighted or forgot In damning crimes, or driving cares, And closest clings in darkest lot ? Not many friends my life has made ; Few have I loved, and few are they Who in my hand their hearts have laid ; And these were women. I am gray. But never have I been betraved. Kathrina These words — this tribute — for the sake Of truth to God and womankind ! These — that my heart may cease to ache With love and gratitude confined, And burning from my hps to break ! These — to that sisterhood of grace That numbers in its sacred hst My mother, risen to her place ; My wife, but yester-morning kissed. And folded in Love's last embrace ! This tribute of a love profound As ever moved the heart of man, To those to whom my life is bound, To her in whom my life began. And her whose love my life hath crowned ! Immortal Love ! Thou still hast wings To lift me to those radiant fields Where Music waits with trembling strings. And Verse her happy numbers yields. And all the soul within me sings. Kathrhia So from the lovely Pagan dream I call no more the Tuneful Nine ; For Woman is my Muse Supreme ; And she with lire and flight divine, Shall light and lead me to my theme. KATHRIN A Part I CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH PART I CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH Thou lovely vale oi' sweetest stream that flows Winding and willow-fringed ConneClieut ! Swift to thy fairest scenes my fancy flies, As I recafl the story of a life Which there began in years of smless hope, And merged maturely into hopeless sin. I o Kathrina O ! golden dawning of a day of storms, That fell ere noontide into rayless night ! O ! beautiful initial, vermeil-flowered, And bright with cherub-eyes and effigies. To the black-letter volume of my life ! ! faery gateway, gilt and garlanded. And shining in the sun, to gloomy groves Of shadowy cypress, and to sunless streams, Feeding with bane the deadly nightshade's roots, To vexing labyrinths of doubt and fear. And deep abysses of despair and death ! Back to thy peaceful villages and fields. My memory, like a weary pilgrim, comes With scrip and burden, to repose awhile, — To pluck a daisy from a lonely grave Where long ago, in common sepulture, 1 laid my mother and my faith in God ; To fix the record of a single day So memorably wonderful and sweet Its power of inspiration lingers still, — So full of her dear presence, so divine With the melodious breathing of her words. And the warm radiance of her loving smile, That tears fall readily as April rain Kathrina 1 1 At its recall ; to pass in swift review The years of adolescence, and the paths Of glare and gloom through which, by passion led, I reached the fair possession of my power, And won the dear possession of my love. And then — farewell ! Queen-village of the meads Fronting the sunrise and in beauty throned, With jewelled homes around her lifted brow, And coronal of ancient forest trees — Northampton sits, and rules her pleasant realm. There where the saintly Edwards heralded The terrors of the Lord, and men bowed low Beneath the menace of his awful words ; And there where Nature, with a thousand tongues Tender and true, from vale and mountain-top, 12 Katliriiia And smiling streams, and landscapes piled afar, Proclaimed a gentler Gospel, L was born. In an old home, beneath an older elm-^ A fount of weeping greenery, that dripped Its spray of rain and dew upon the roof — I opened eyes on life ; and now return, Among the visions of my early years. Two so distin6t that all the rest grow dim My mother's pale, fond face and tearful eyes, Bent upon me in Love's absorbing trance, From the low window where she watched my play ; Kathrma i And, after this, the wondrous ehii, that seemed To my young fancy like an airy bosk, Poised by a single stem upon the earth, And thronged by instant marvels. There in Spring I heard with joy the cheery blue-bird's note ; There sang rejoicing robins after rain ; And there within the emerald twilight, which Defied the mid-day sun, from bough to bough— A torch of downy flame — the oriole Passed to his nest, to feed the censer-fires Which Love had lit for Airs of Heaven to swing. There, too, through all the weird September-eves I heard the harsh, reiterant katydids Rasp the mysterious silence. There I watched The glint of stars, playing at hide-and-seek Behind the swaying foliage, till drawn By tender hands to childhood's balmy rest. My Mother and the elm ! Too soon I learned That o'er me hung, and o'er the widowed one Who gave me birth, with broader boughs. Haunted by sabler wings and sadder sounds, A darker shadow than the mighty elm ! I caught the secret in the street from those Who pointed at me as I passed, or paused H Kathrina To gaze in sighing pity on my play From playmates who, forbidden to divulge The knowledge they possessed, with childish tricks Of indire6tion strove in vain to hide Their awful meaning in unmeaning phrase; From kisses which were pitiful ; from words Gentler than love's, "because compassionate; From deep, unconscious sighs out of the heart Of her who loved me best, and from her tears That freest flowed when I was happiest. From frailest filaments of evidence, From dark allusions faintly overheard, From hint and look and sudden change of theme When I approached, from widely scattered words Remembered well, and gathered all at length Kathrina 1 5 Into consistent terms, I know not how I wrought the full conclusion, nor how young. I only know that when a little child I learned, though no one told, that he who gave My life to me in madness took his own — Took it from fear of want, though he possessed The finest fortune in the rich old town. Thenceforth I had a secret which I kept — Kept by my mother with as close a tongue — : A secret which embittered every cup. It bred rebellion in me — filled my soul, Opening to life in innocent delight. With baleful doubt and harrowing distrust. Why, if my father was the godly man His gentle widow vouched with tender tears, Did He to whom she bowed in daily prayer — Who loved us, as she told me, with a love Ineffable for strength and tenderness- Permit such fate to him, such woe to us .■* Ah ! many a time, repeating on my knees The simple language of my evening prayer Which her dear lips had taught me, came the dark i6 Kathrina Perplexing question, stirring in my heart A sense of guilt, or quenching all my faith. This, too, I kept a secret. I had died Rather than breathe the question in her ears Who knelt beside me. I had rather died Than add a sorrow to the load she bore. Taught to be true, I played the hypocrite In truthfulness to her. I had no God, No penitence, no loyalty, no love. For any being higher than herself Jealous of all to whom she gave her hand, I clung to her with fond idolatry. I sat with her ; where'er she walked, I walked ; I kissed away her tears ; I strove to fill, KatJiT-ina 1 7 With strange precocity of manly pride, And more than boyish tenderness, the void Which death had made. I could not fail to see That ruth for me and sorrow for her loss — Twin leeches at her heart — were drinking blood That, from her pallid features, day by day Sank slowly down, to feed the cruel draught. Nay, more than this I saw, and sadly worse. Oft when I watched her, and she knew it not, I marked a quivering horror sweep her face — - A strange, quick thrill of pain — that brought her hand With sudden pressure to her heart, and forced To her white lips a swiftly whispered prayer. I fancied that I read the mystery ; But it was deeper and more terrible Than I conje6lured. Not till darker years Came the solution. Still, we had some days Of pleasure. Sorrow cannot always brood Over the shivering forms that drink her warmth, But springs to meet the morning light, and soars 1 8 Kathrina Into the empyrean, to forget For one sweet hour the ring of greedy mouths That surely wait, and cry for her return. My mother's hand in mine, or mine in hers, We often left the village far behind, Walking the meadow-paths to gather flowers, And watch the ploughman as he turned the tilth, Or tossed his burnished share into the sun At the long furrow's end, the while we marked The tipsy bobolink, struggling with the chain Of tinkling music that perplexed his wings. And listened to the yellow-breasted lark's Sweet whistle from the grass. Glad in my joy. My mother smiled amid these scenes and sounds. And wandered on with gentle step and slow, While I, in boyish frolic, ran before, ;tjh^^^ Kathrma 19 Chasing the butterflies, or in her path Tossing the gaudy gold ot buttercups, Till sometimes, ere we knew, we stood entranced Upo*^ the river's marge. Ever the spell Of lapsing water tamed my playful mood, And I reclined in silent happiness At the tired feet that rested m the shade. There through the long, bright mornings we remained, Watching the noisy ferry-boat that plied Like a slow shuttle through the sunny warp Of threaded silver from a thousand brooks, That took new beauty as it wound away ; Or gazing where, at Holyoke's verdant base — Like a slim hound, stretched at his master's feet- 20 Kathrma Lay the long, lazy hamlet, Hockanum ; Or, upward turning, traced the line that climbed O'er splintered rock and clustered foliage To the bare mountain-top ; then followed down The scars of fire and storm, or paths of gloom That marked the curtained gorges, till, at last, Caught by a wisp of white, belated mist, Our vision rose to trace its airy flight Beyond the height, into the distant blue. One morning, while we rested there, she told Of a dear friend upon the other side — A lady who had loved her — whom she loved — And then she promised to my eager wish That soon, across the stream I longed to pass, I should go with her to the lady's home. The wished-for day came slowly — came at last — My birthday morning — rounding to their close The fourteen summers of my boyhood's life. The early mists were clmging to the side Of the dark mountain as we left the town. Though all the roadside fields were quick with toil In rhythmic motion through the dewy grass Kathrina 2 1 The mowers swept, and on the fragrant air Was borne from far the soft, metallic clash Of stones upon the steel. This was the day " So memorably wonderful and sweet Its power of inspiration lingers still, — So full of her dear presence, so divine With the melodious breathing of her words. And the warm radiance of her loving smile. That tears fall readily as April rain At its recall." And with this day there came The revelation and the genesis Of a new life. In intelle6l and heart I ceased to be a child, and grew a man. By one long leap I passed the hidden bound That circumscribed my boyhood, and thenceforth Abjured all childish pleasure, and took on The purpose and the burden of my life. We crossed the river — I, as in a dream ; And when I stood upon the eastern shore. In the full presence of the mountain pile, Strange tides of feeling thrilled me, and I wept — 22 Kathrijia Wept, though I knew not why. I could have knelt On the white sand, and prayed. Within my soul Prophetic whispers breathed of coming power And new possessions. Aspiration swelled Like a pent stream within a narrow chasm, That finds nor vent nor overflow, but swirls And surges and retreats, until it floods The springs that feed it. All was chaos wild, — A chaos of fresh passion, undefined. Deep in whose vortices of mist and fire A new world waited blindly for its birth. I had no words for revelation ; — none For answer when my mother pressed my hand, And questioned why it trem.bled. I looked up With tearful eyes, and met her loving smile, And both of us were silent, and passed on, We reached at length the pleasant cottage-home Where dwelt my mother's friend, and, at the gate. Found her with warmest welcome waiting us. Kathrina 23 She kissed my mother's cheek, and then kissed mine, Which shrank, and mantled with a new-born shame. They crossed the threshold : I remained without, Surprised — half-angry — with the burning blush That still o'erwhelmed my face. I looked around For something to divert my vexing thoughts, And saw, intently gazing in my eyes. From his long tether in the grass, a lamb — A lusty, downy, handsome household pet. There was a scarlet ribbon on his neck Which held a silver bell, whose note I heard First when his eye met mine ; for then he sprang To greet me with a joyous bleat, and fell. Thrown by the cord that held him. Pitying him, I loosed his cruel leashing, with intent. After a half-hour's frolic, to return 24 Kathrma And fasten as I found him ; but my hand, Too careless of its charge, slijDped from its hold With the first bound he made ; and with a leap He cleared the garden wall, and flew away. Affrighted at my deed and its mischance, I paused a moment — then with ready feet. And flush and final impulse, I pursued. He held the pathway to the mountain woods, The tmkle of his bell already faint In the long- distance he had placed between Hunself and his pursuer. On and on. Climbing the mountain path, he sped away, I following swiftly, never losing sight Of the bright scarlet streaming from his neck, Or hearing of the tinkle of his bell. Till, wearied both, and panting up the steep, Our progress slackened to a walk. At length He paused and looked at me, and waited till My foot had touched the cord he dragged, and then Bounded awa}', scaling the shelvy clifts Katliruia 25 That bolder rose along the narrow path. He had no choice but mount. I pressed him close, And rocks and chasms were thick on either side. So, pausing" oft, but ever leaping on Before my hand could reach him, he advanced. Not once in all the passage had I paused To look below, nor had I thought of her Whom I had left. Absorbed in the pursuit I pressed it recklessly, until I grasped M}' fleecy prisoner, wound and tied his cord Around my wrist, and bt)th of us sank down Upon the mountain summit. In a swoon Of breathless weariness how long I la)^ I could not know ; but consciousness at last Came by my brute companion, who, alert Among the scanty browse, tugged at my wrist, And brought me startled to my feet. I saw In one swift sweep of vision where I stood, — In presence of what beauty ot the earth, What glory of the sky, what majesty Of lofty loneliness. I drew the lamb — The dear, dumb creature — oentlv to my side. 2 6 Kathriiia And led him out upon the beethng cHif That fronts the plaided meadows, and knelt down. When once the shrinking, dizzy spell was gone, I saw below me, like a jewelled cup, The valley hollowed to its heaven-kissed lip — The serrate green against the serrate blue — Brimming with beauty's essence ; palpitant With a divine elixir — lucent floods Poured from the golden chalice of the sun, At which my spirit drank with conscious growth, And drank again with still expanding scope Of comprehension and of faculty. 1 felt the bud of being in me burst With full, unfolding petals to a rose, And fragrant breath that flooded ail the scene. By sudden insight of myself I knew That I was greater than the scene, — that deep Within my nature was a wondrous world. Broader than that I gazed on, and informed With a diviner beauty, — that the things I saw were but the types of those I held, And that above them both. High Priest and King, I stood supreme, to choose and to combine, Kat/iriiia 27 And build from that within me and without New torms of life, with meaning of my own. And there alone, upon the mountain-top, Kneeling beside the lamb, I bowed my head Beneath the chrismal light, and felt my soul Baptized and set apart to poetry. The spell of inspiration lingered not ; But ere it passed I knew my destiny — The passion and the portion of my life : Though, with the new-born consciousness of power, And organizing and creative skill, There came a sense of poverty — a sense Of power untrained, of skill without resource, Of ignorance of Nature and her laws 2 8 Kathrina And language, and the learning of the schools. I could not rise upon my callow wings ; But lelt that I must wait until the years Should gi\-e them plumage, and the skill for flight Be won by trial. Then before me rose The long, long years of study, interposed Between me and the goal that shone afar ; But with them rose the courage to surmount, And I was girt for toil. Then, for the first, My eye and spirit, that had swept the whole Wide vision, grew discriminate, and traced The crystal river pouring from the North Its twinkling tide, and winding down the vale, Till, doubling in a serpent coil, it paused Before the chasm that parts the frontal spurs Of Tom and Holyoke ; then in wreathing light Sped the swart rocks, and sought the misty South. Across the meadows — carpet for the gods, Woven of ripening r}-e and greenmg maize And rosv clover-blooms, and .spotted o'er Kathriiia 2 9 With the black shadows of the feathery elms — Northampton rose, half hidden in her trees, Lifted above the level of the fields, And noiseless as a picture. At my feet The ferry-boat, diminished to a toy, With automatic diligence conveyed Its puppet passengers between the shores That hemmed its enterprise ; and one low barge, With white, square sail, bore northward languidly The slow and scanty commerce of the stream. Eastward, upon another fertile stretch Of meadow-sward and tilth, embowered in elms, Lay the twin streets, and sprang the single spire Of Hadley, where the hunted regicides Securely lived of old, and strangely died ; And eastward still, upon the last green step From which the Angel of the Morning Light Leaps to the meadow-lands, fair Amherst sat, Capped by her many-windowed colleges ; While from his outpost in the rising North, Bald with the storms and ruddy with the suns 30 - Kathrina Of the long eons, stood old Sugarloaf, Gazing with changeless brow upon a scene, Changing to fairer beauty evermore. Save of the river and my pleasant home, I knew not then the names and history Borne by these visions ; but upon my bram Their forms were graved in lines indelible As, on the rocks beneath my feet, the prints •Of life in its first motion. Later years Renewed the pi6lure, and its outlines filled With fair associations, — wrought the past And living present into fadeless wreaths That crowned each mound and mount, and town and tower, The king of teeming memories. Nor could I guess with faintest foresight of the life Which, in the years before me, I should weave Of mingled threads of pleasure and of pain Into these scenes, until not one of all Could meet my eye, or touch my memory, Without recalling an experience That drank the sweetest ichor of my veins, Or crowded them with joy. Katln^ina 3 1 At length I turned From the wide survey, and with pleased surprise Detefted, nestling at the mountains foot, The cottage I had left ; and, on the lawn, Two forms of life that flitted to and fro. I knew that they had missed me ; so I sought The passage I had climbed, and, with the lamb Still fastened to my wrist, 1 hasted down. Full of the marvels of the hour I sped, Leaping from rock to rock, or flying swift The smoother slopes, with arms half wings, and feet That only guarded the descent, the while My captive led me captive at his will. So tense the strain of sinew, so intense The mood and motion, that before I guessed. The headlong flight was finished, and I walked, Jaded and reeking, in the level path That led .the lambkin home. My mother saw. And ran to meet me : then for long, still hours, Couched in a dim, cool room, I lay ana slept. When I awoke, I found her at my side, KatJiruia Fanning my face, and ready with her smile And soothing" words to greet me. Then I told, With youthful volubility, and wild Extravagance of figure and of phrase, My wild exploit. At first she questioned me But, as I wrought each scene and circumstance Into consistent form, she drank my words In eager silence ; and within her eyes I saw the glow of pride which gravity And show of deep concern could not disguise. I read her bosom better than she knew. Kathrina "i^^i I saw that she had made discovery Of something unsuspected in her child, And that, by one I loved — my dearest, best, — « The fire that burned within me, and the power That morning called to life, were recognized. When I had told my story, and had read With kindling pride my praises in her eyes, She placed her soft hand on my brow, and said : "My Paul has climbed the noblest mountain height " In all his little world, and gazed on scenes " As beautiful as rest beneath the sun. " I trust he will remember, all his life, " That to his best achievement, and the spot " Nearest to heaven his youthful feet have trod, " He has been guided by a guileless lamb. " It is an omen which his mother's heart " Will treasure with her jewels." When the sun Of the long summer day hung but an hour Above his setting", and the cool West Wind Bore from the purpling hills his benison, The farewell courtesies of love were given. 34 Kathviiia And we set forth for home. Not far we fared — The river left behind — when, looking back, I saw the mountain in the searching light Of the low sun. Surcharged with youthful pride In my adventure, I can ne'er forget The disappointment and chagrin which fell Upon me ; for a change had passed. The steep Which in the morning sprang to kiss the sun, Had left the scene ; and in its place I saw A shrunken pile, whose paths my steps had climbed. Whose proudest height my humble feet had trod. Its grand impossibilities, and all Its store of marvels and of mysteries, Were flown away, and would not be recalled. The mountain's might had entered into me ; And, from that fruitful hour, whatever scene Nature revealed to me, she never caught My spirit humbled by surjDrise. My thought Built higher mountains than I ever found ; Poured wilder catara6ts than I ever saw ; Drove grander storms than ever swept the sky ; Pushed into loftier heavens and lower hells Kathrina • 35 Than the ab3^smal reach of Ught and dark ; And entertained rae with diviner feasts Than ever met the appetite of sense, And poured me wine of choicer vintages Than fire tlie hearts of kings. The frolic-flame Which in the mornmg kindled in my veins Had died away ; and at my mother's side I walked in quiet mood, and gravely spoke Of the great future. With a tender quest My mother probed my secret wish, and heard, With silence new and strange respeftfulness, The revelation of my plans. I felt In her benign attention to my words ; In her suggestions, clothed with gracious phrase To win my judgment ; and in all those shades Of mien and manner which a mother's love Inspires so quickly, when the form it nursed Becomes a staff in its caressing hand, She had made space for rae, and placed her life In new relations to my own. I knew That she who through my span of tender years Had counselled me, had given me privilege 36 Kathrina Within her councils ; and the moment came I learned that in the converse of that hour, The appetency of maternity For manhood in its offspring, had laid hold Of the fresh growth in me, and feasted well Its gentle passion. Ere we reached our home, The plans for study were matured, and I, Who, with an aptitude beyond my years, Had gathered learning's humbler rudiments From her to whom I owed my earliest words, Was, when another day should rise, to pass To rougher teaching, and society Of the rude youth whose wild and boisterous ways Had scared my childish life. I nerved my heart To meet the change ; and all the troubled night I tossed upon my pillow, filled with fears, Or fired with hot ambitions ; shrinking oft With girlish sensitiveness from the lot My manly heart had chosen ;■ rising oft Above my cowardice, well panoplied Kathrina 37 By fancy to achieve great victories O'er those whose fellows I should be. At last, The dawn looked in upon me, and I rose To meet its golden coming, and the life Of golden promise whose wide-open doors Waited my feet. The lingering morning hours Seemed days of painful waiting, as they fell In slowly filling numbers trom the tower Of the old village church ; but when, at length, My eager feet had touched the street, and turned To climb the goodly eminence where he 38 Kathrina In whose profound and stately pages live His country's annals, ruled his youthful realm. My heart grew stern and strong; and nevermore Did doubt of excellence and mastery Drag down my soaring courage, or disturb My purposes and plans. What boots it here To tell with careful chronicle the life Of my novitiate ? Up the graded months My feet rose slowly, but wnth steady step, To tall and stalwart manliness of frame, And ever rising and expanding reach Of intelle6lion, and the power to call Forth from the pregnant nothingness of words The sphered creations of my chosen art. What boots it to recount my viclories Over my fellows, or to tell how all. Contemptuous at first, became at length Confessed inferiors in every strife When brain or brawn contended .'' Viclories Were won too easily to bring me pride, And only bred contempt of the low pitch And lower purpose nf the power which strove Kathrina 39 So feebly and so clumsily. When won, They fed my mother's passion, and she praised ; And her delight was all the boon they brought. My fierce ambition, ever reaching up To higher fie'lds and nobler combatants, Trampled its triumphs underneath its feet ; And in my heart of hearts I pitied her To whose deep nunger of maternal pride They bore ambrosial ministry. In all These years of doing and development, My heart was haunted by a bitter pain. In every scene of pleasure, every hour That lacked employment, every moment's lull Of toil or study, its familiar hand Was raised aloft, to smite me with its pang. From month to month, from year to year, I saw That she who bore me, and to whom I owed The meek and loyal reverence of a child, Was changing places with me, and that she — Dependent, trustful, and subordinate — Deferred to me in all things, and in all Gave me the parent's piace and took the child's. 4© KafJirina She waited for my coming like a child ; She ran to meet and greet me like a child ; She leaned on me for guidance and defence, And lived in me, and by me, like a child. If I were absent long beyond my wont, She yielded to distresses and to tears ; And when I came, she flew into my arms iiiiifiiiiip^ Kathrina 4 1 With childish impulse of delight, or chid With weak complainings my delay. By these, And by a thousand other childish ways, I knew disease was busy with her life. Working distempers in her heart and brain, And driving her for succor to my strength. The change was great in her, though slowly wrought^— Though wrought so slowly that my thought and life Had been adjusted to it, but for this : — One dismal night, a trivial accident Had kept me from my home beyond the hour At which my promise stood for my return. Arriving at the garden gate, I paused To catch a glimpse of the accustomed light. Through the cold mist that wrapped me, but in vain. Only one window glimmered through the gloom, Through whose uncurtained panes I dimly saw My mother in her chamber. She was clad In the white robe of rest ; but to and fro She crossed the light, sometimes with hands pressed close 42 Kathrma Upon her brow, sometimes raised up toward heaven, As if in deprecation or despair ; And through the strident soughing of the ehn I heard her voice, still musical in woe, Wailing and calling. With a noiseless step I reached the door, and, with a noiseless key, Turned back the bolt, and stood within. I could Have called her to my arms, and quelled her fears By one dear word, and yet, I spoke it not. I longed to learn her secret, and to know In what recess of history or heart It hid, and wrought her awful malady. Not long I waited, when I heard her voice Wail out again in wild, beseeching prayer, — Her voice so sweet and soulful, that it seemed As if a listening fiend could not refuse Such help as in him lay, although her tongue Should falter to articulate her pain. I heard her voice — O God ! I heard her words ! Not bolts of burning from the vengeful sky Kathrina 43 Had scathed or stunned me more. I shook hke one Powerless within the toils oi some great sin, Or some o'ermastering passion ; or like one Whose veins turn ice at onset of the plague. " O God," she said, " my Father and my Friend ! "Spare him to me, and save me from myself! " O ! if thou help me not — if thou forsake — " This hand which thou hast made, will take the hfe " Thou mad'st the hand to feed. I cling to him, " My son, — my hoy. If danger come to him, " No one is left to save me from this crime. " Thou knowest, O ! ray God, how I have striven '' To quench the awful impulse ; how, in vain, " My prayers have gone before thee, for release " From the foul demon who would drive my soul " To crime that leaves no space for penitence ! " O ! Father ! Father ! Flear me when I call ! " Hast thou not made me ? Am I not thy child .'' " Why, why this mad, mysterious desire " To follow him I loved, by the dark door " Through which he forced his passage to the realm " That death throws wide to all 1 O why must I, " A poor, weak woman — " 44 Kathrina I could hear no more, But dropped my dripping- cloak, and, with a voice Toned to its tenderest cadence, I pronounced The sweet word, " motlier ! " Her excess of joy Burst in a cry, and in a moment's space Kathrma 45 I sat within her room, and she, my child, Was sobbing in my arms. I spoke no word, But sat distracted with my tenderness For her who threw herself upon my heart In perfect trust, and bitter thoughts of Hira Whose succor, though importunately sought In piteous pleadings by a gentle saint, Was grudgingly withheld. Her closing words : " O ! why must I, a poor, weak woman — ^" rang Through every chamber of my tortured soul, And called to conclave and rebellion all The black-browed passions thitherto restrained. Ay, why should she, who only sought for God, Be given to a devil } Why should she Who begged for bread be answered with a stone .^ Ay, why should she whose soul recoiled from sin As from a fiend, find in her heart a fiend To urge the sin she hated } questions all The fiends within me answered as they would. O God! O Father! How I hated Thee! Nay, how within my angry soul I dared To curse thy sacred name ! 46 Kathrina Then other thoughts — Thoughts of myself and of my destiny — Succeeded. Who and what was I ? A youth, Doomed by hereditary taint to crime,— A youth whose every artery and vein Was doubly charged with suicidal blood. When the full consciousness of what I was Possessed my thought, and I gazed down the abyss God had prepared for me, I shrank aghast ; And there in silence, with an awful oath I dare not write, I swore my will was mine. And mine my hand ; and that, though all the fiends That cumber hell and overrun the earth Should spur the deadly impulse of my blood. And heaven withhold the aid I would not ask ; Though woes unnumbered should beset my life. And reason fall, and uttermost despair Hold me a hopeless prisoner in its glooms, I would resist and conquer, and live out My complement of 3-ears. My bosom burned With fierce defiance, and the angry blood Leaped from my heart, and boomed within my brain With throbs that stunned me, though each fiery thrill Kathrina . 47 Was charged with tenderness for her whose head Was pillowed on its riot. Long I sat — How long, I know not — but at last the sad, Hysteric sobs and suspirations ceased. Or only at wide intervals recurred ; And then I rose, and to her waiting bed Led my doomed mother. ' With a cheerful voice — Cheerful as I could summon — and a kiss, I bade her a good night and pleasant dreams ; And then, across the hall, I sought my room. Where neither sleep nor dream awaited me. But only blasphemous, black thoughts, and strife With God and Destiny. I saw it all : The lamp that from my mother's window beamed, Illumined other nights and other storms. And by its lurid light revealed to me The secrets of a life. Her sudden pangs, Her brooding woes, her terrors when alone. The strange surrender of her will to mine. Her hunger for my presence, and her fear 48 . Kathrina That by some slip of fortune she should lose Her hold on me, were followed to their home — To her poor heart, that fluttered every hour With conscious presence of an enemy That would not be expelled, and strove to spill The life it spoiled. From that eventful night She was not left alone. I called a friend, A cheerlul lady, whose companionship Was music, medicine, and rest ; and she, Wanting a home, and with a ready wit Learning my mother's need and my desire, Assumed the place of matron in the house ; And, in return for what we gave to her. Gave us herself. My mother's confidence, By her self-confidence, she quickly won ; And thus, though sadly burdened at my heart, I found one burden lifted from my hands. More liberty ot movement and of toil I needed ; for the time was drawing near When T should turn my feet toward other halls, Katkrijia 49 To seek maturer study, and complete The work of culture faithfully begun. Into my mother's ear I breathed my plans With careful words. The university Was but a short remove — a morning's walk — Away from her ; and ever at her wish — Nay, always when I could — I would return ; And separation would but sweeten love, And joy of meeting recompense the pain Of parting and of absence. She was calm, And leaning in her thought upon her friend, Gave her consent. So, on a summer day, I kissed her faded cheek, and turned from home To seek the college halls that I had seen From boyhood's mount of vision. Of the years Passed there in study — of the rivalries, The long, stern struggles for pre-eminence, The triumphs hardly won, but won at last Beyond all cavil, matters not to tell. 50 Kathrina It was my grief that while I gained and grew, My mother languished momently, and lost, — A grief that turned to poison in my blood. The college prayers were mummeries to me, And with disdainful passion I repelled All Christian questionings of heart and life. By old and young. I stood, I moved alone. I sought no favors, took no courtesies With grateful grace, and nursed my haughty pride. The men who kneeled and gloomed, and prayed and sang, Seemed but a brood of dullards, whom contempt Would honor overmuch. No tender spot Was left within my indurated heart, Save that which moved with ever-melting ruth For her whose breast had nursed me, and whose love Had given my life the only happiness It yet had known. With her I kept my pledge With more than faithful punftuality. Few weeks passed by in all those busy years Kathrina 5 1 In which I did not walk the way between The college and my home, and bear to her Such consolation as my presence gave. In truth, my form was as familiar grown To all the rustic dwellers on the road As I had been a post-boy. Little joy These visits won for me — little beyond That which I found in bearing joy to her — For every year marked on her slender frame. And on her cheeks, and on her failing brain, Its record of decadence. I could see That she was sinking into helplessness, And that too soon her inoffensive soul, With all its sweet afife6tions, would go down To hopeless wreck and darkness. From her friend I learned that still the burden of her prayer Was, that she might be saved from one great sin — The sin of self-destru6tion. Every hour This one petition struggled from her heart. 52 Kathrina To reach the ear of heaven ; yet never help Came down in answer to her cry. The Spring That ushered in my closing college-year Came up the valley on her balmy wings, And Winter fled away, and left no trace, Save here and there a snowv drift, to show Kathrina 5 3 Where his cold feet had rested in their flight. But one still night, within the span of sleep, A shivering winter cloud that wandered late Shook to the frosty ground its inch of rime. So, when the morning rose, the earth was white ; And shrubs and trees, and roofs and rocks and walls, Fulgent with downy crystals, made a world To which a breath were ruin ; and a breath Wrecked it for me, and, by a few sad words, Blotted the sunlit splendor from my sight. As I looked out upon the scene, and mused Of her to whom I hoped it might impart Some healthy touch of joy, I heard the beat Of hoofs upon the trackless blank, and saw A horseman speeding up the avenue. I raised my sash (I knew he came for me), And faltered forth my question. From his l:>reast He drew a folded slip : dismounting then. He stooped and pressed the missive in a mass Of clinging snow, and tossed it to my hand. I closed the window, burst the frosty seal. And read : " Your mother cannot long survive : Come home to her to-day." I did not pause 54 Kathrina To break the fast of night, but, rushing forth, I followed close the messenger's return. It was a morning, such as comes but once In all the Spring, — so still and beautiful, So full of promise, so exhilarant With frost and fire, in earth and air, that life Had been a brimming joy but for the scene That waited for my eyes — the scene of death — From which miagination staggered back, And every sensibility recoiled. The smoke from distant sugar-camps rolled up Through the still ether in columnar coils — Blue pillars of a bluer dome — and all The resonant air was full of sounds of Spring. The sheep were bleating round their empty ricks Horses let loose were calling from afar. And winning fierce replies ; the axeman's blows Fell nimbly at the piles which wintry woods Had lent to summer stores ; while far and faint, The rh}'thmic ululations of the hound On a fresh trail, upon the mountain's side, Added their strange, wild music to the morn. Kathrina 5 5 The beauty and the music caught my sense, But woke within my sick and sinking heart No motion of response. I walked as one Condemned to dungeon-glooms might walk Through shouts of mirth and festal pageantry, Hearing and seeing all, yet over all Hearing the clank of chains and clash of bars, And seeing but the reptiles of his cell. How I arrived at home, without fatigue, Without a thought of effort — onward borne By one absorbing and impelling thought — As one within a minute's mete may slide O'er leagues of sunny dreamland in a dream, By magic or by miracle — I found No time to question. At my mother's door I stood and listened : soon I heard my name Pronounced within in spiteful whisperings. I raised the latch, and met her burning eyes. She staretl a wild, mad stare, then raised herself, And in weak fury poured upon my head The vials of her wrath. I stood like stone, c5 Kathrina Without the power to speak, the while she rained Her maledictions on me, and in words Fit only for the damned, accused my life Of crimes my language could not name, and deeds Which only outcast wretches know. At length I gained my tongue, and tried to take her hand ; But with a shriek which cut me like a knife She shrank from me, and hid her quivering face Within her pillow. Then I turned away. And sought the room where oft in better days We both had knelt together at my bed. And, making fast my door, I threw myself Prone on the precious couch, and gave to grief My strong and stormy nature. All the day With bursts of passion I bewailed my loss. Or lay benumbed in feeling and in thought, Tasting no food, and shutting out my soul From all approach of human sympathy, Till the liglit waned, and through the leafless boughs Kathrina 57 Of the old elm I caught the sheen of stars. Then sleep descended — such a sleep as comes To uttermost exhaustion, — sleep with dreams Wild as the wakincr fantasies of her ^8 Kathrina Whose screams and incoherent words gave voice To all their phantom brood. At length I woke. The house was still as death ; and yet I heard, Or thought I heard, the touch of crafty feet Upon the carpet, creeping by my door. It passed away, away ; and then a pause, Still and presageful as the breathless calm On which the storm-cloud mounts the pallid West, Succeeded. I could hear the parlor-clock Counting the beaded silence, and my bed. Rustling beneath my breathing and my pulse, Was sharply crepitant, and gave me pain. An hour passed by (it loitered like an age), And then came hurried words and hasty fall Of footsteps in the passage. I could hear Screams, sobs, and whispered calls and closing doors, And heavy feet that jarred my bed, and shook The windows of my room. I did not stir : I dared not stir ; but lay in deathly dread, Waiting the dread denouement. Soon it came. A man approached my door, and tried the latch ; 8 Kat/iriiia 59 Then knocked, and called. I knew the kindly voice Of the physician, and threw back the bolt. Then by the light he held before his face I read the facl of death. I took his arm, And, as I feebly staggered down the stairs. He broke to me with lack of useless words The awful truth. . . . The old familiar tale : She counterfeited sleep : the nurses both, Weary with over-watching in their chairs, Under the cumbrous stillness, slept indeed ; And when she knew it, she escaped ; and then She did the deed to which for many years She had been predisposed. Perhaps I knew The nature of the case : perhaps I knew My father went that way. I clutched his arm : There was no need of words. The parlor door Stood open, and a throng of silent friends, Choking with tears, gazed on a silent form Shrouded in snowy linen. They made way 6o Katliriua For me and my companion. On my knees I clasped the precious clay, and pouring forth My pitying love and tenderness for her, I gave indignant voice to my complaint Against the Being who, to all her prayers, For succor and security, had turned A deaf, dead ear and a repelling hand. To what blaspheming" utterance I gave My raving passion, may the God I cursed Forbid my shrinking memory to recall ! I now remember only that when drawn Ry strong, determined hands away from her. The room was vacant. Every pitying friend Had flown my presence and the room, to find Release of sensibility frf)m words That roused their superstitious souls to lear Kathrina 6 1 That God would smite me through the bhnding smoke Of my great torment. Silence, for the rest ! It was a dream ; and only as a dream Do I remember it : the coffined form, The funeral — a concourse of the town — The trembling prayer for me, the choking sobs The long procession, the descending clods The slow return, articulated all With wild, mad words of mine, and gentle speech Of those who sought to curb or comfort me — All was a dream, from which I woke at length With heart as dead as hers who slept. The heavens Were brass above me, and the breathing world Was void and meaningless. When told to pray, This was the logic of my heart's reply : If God be Love, not such is He to me Nor such to mine. If He heard not the voice Of such a lovely saint as she I mourned, Mine would but rouse His vengeance. So I closed With Reason's hand the adamantine doors 62 Kathrina Which only Faith unlocks, and shut my soul Away from God, the warder of a gang Of passions that in darkness stormed or gloomed And with each other fought, or on themselves Gnawed for the nourishment which I denied. COMPLAI NT River, sparkling river, I have fault to find with thee : River, thou dost never give a word of peace to me ! Dimpling to each touch of sunshine, wimpling to each air that blows, Thou dost make no sweet replying to my sighing for repose. Flowers of mount and m.eadow, I have fault to find with you ; So the breezes cross and toss you, so your cups are filled with dew, Matters not though sighs give motion to the ocean of your breath ; Matters not though you are filling with the chilling drops of death ! 64 Kathrina Birds of song and beauty, lo ! I charge you all with blame : — Though all hapless passions thrill and fill me, you are still the same. I can borrow for my sorrow nothing that avails From your lonely note, that only speaks of joy that never fails. O ! indifference of Nature to the fa6f of human pain ! Every grief that seeks relief entreats it at her hand in vain ; Not a bird speaks forth its passion, not a river seeks the sea, Nor a flower from wreaths of Summer breathes in sympathy with me. O ! the rigid rock is frigid, though its bed be summer mould, And the diamond glitters ever in the grasp of change- less gold ; And the laws that bring the seasons swing their cycles as they must. Though the ample road they trample blind the eyes with human dust. Katkrina 65 Moons will wax in argent glory, though man wane to hopeless gloom ; Stars will sparkle in their splendor, though he darkle to his doom ; Winds of heaven he calls to fan him, ban him with an icy chill, And the shifting crowds of clouds go drifting o'er him as they will. Yet within my inmost spirit I can hear an undertone, That by law of prime relation holds these voices as its own, — The full tonic whose harmonic grandeurs rise through Nature's words, From the ocean's thund'rous rolling to the trolling of the birds. Spirit, O ! my spirit ! Is it thou are out of tune .-' Art thou clinging to December while the earth is in its June .'' Hast thou dropped thy part in nature .'' Hast thou touched another key .'' Art thou angry that the anthem will not, cannot, wait for thee .'* 9 66 Katlwina Spirit, thou art left alone — alone on waters wild ; For God is gone, and Love is dead, and Nature spurns her child. Thou art drifting in a deluge, waves below and clouds above, And with weary wings come back to thee, thy raven and thy dove. K A T H R I N A Part T I L o r E PART II LOVE As from a deep, dead sea, by drastic lift Of pent volcanic fires, the dripping form Of a new island swells to meet the air, And, after months of idle basking, feels The prickly feet of life from countless germs Creeping along its sides, and reaching up In fern and flower to the life-giving sun. So from my grief I rose, and so at length I felt new life returning : so I felt The life already wakened stretching forth To stronger light and purer atmosphere. 70 . Kathriiia But most I longed for human love — the source (So sadly closed) from which my life had drawn Its sweetest inspiration and reward. I could not pray, nor could my spirit win From sights and sounds of nature the response It vaguely yearned for. They assailed my sense With senseless seeming of the hum and whirl Of vast machinery, whose motive power Sought its own ends, or wrought for ministry To other life than mine. I could stand still, And see the trains sweep by ; could hear the roar Of thundering wheels ; could watch the pearly plumes That floated where they flew ; could catch a glimpse Of thousand happy faces at the glass ; But felt that all their freighted life and wealth Were naught to me, and moved toward other souls In other latitudes. A year had flown. And more, when, on a Sunday morn in June. I wandered out, t(i wear away the hours Of growing restlessness. The worshippers Kathrina 71 Were thronging to the service of the day, And gave me sidelong stare, or shunned me quite ; As if they knew me for a reprobate, And feared a taint of death I took the road That eastward cleft the town, and sought the bridge That spanned the river, reaching which I crossed. Then deep within the stripes of springing corn I found the shadow of an elm, and lay Stretched on the downy grass for listless hours, Dreaming of days gone by, or turning o'er With careless hand the pages of a book I had brought with me. 72 Kathriua Tired at length, I rose, And, touched by some light impulse, moved along The old, familiar road. I loitered on In a blind revery, nor marked the while The furlongs or the time, until the spell In a full burst of music was dissolved. I startled as one startles from a dream, And saw the church of Hadley, from whose doors. Open to summer air, the choral hymn Poured out its measured tides, and rose and fell Upon the silence in broad cadences. As from a far. careering sea, the waves Lift into silver swells the sleeping breasts Of land-locked bays, I heard the sound of flutes And hoarse, sonorous viols, in accord With happy human voices, — and one voice — A woman's or an angel's — that compelled My feet to swift approach. A thread of gold, Through all the web of sound, I followed it Till, by the stress of some strange sympathy, And by no a6t of will, I joined my voice To that one voice of melody, and sang. Kathriiia 7 3 The heart is wiser than the intelleft, And works with swifter hands and surer feet Toward wise conclusions. So, without resort To reason, in my heart I knew that she Who sang had suffered — knew that she had grieved, Had hungered, struggled, kissed the cheek of death, And ranged the scale of passions till her soul Was deep, and wide, and soft with sympathy ; — Nay, more than this : that she had found at last Peace like a river, on whose waveless tide She floated while she sang. This was the key That loosed my prisoned voice, and filled my eyes With tender tears, and touched to life again My better nature. When the choral closed. And the last chord in silence lapsed away, I raised my eyes, and, nodding to the beck Of the old, slippered sexton, I went in, — Not (shall it be confessed ?) to find the God At whose plain altar bowed the rural throng ; But, through a voice, to follow to its source The influence that moved me. 74 Kaihriua I was late ; And many eyes looked up as I advanced Through the broad aisle, and took a seat that turned My face to all the faces in the house. I scanned the simpering girls within the choir, But found not what I sought ; and then my eyes With rambling inquisition swept the pews. Pausing at every maiden face in vain. iiiiiii!iiii|!iiiirii{ One head, that crowned a tall and slender form, Was bowed with reverent grace upon the rail Before her; and, although I caught no glimpse Of her sweet face, I knew such face was there, 7\nd there the voice. K a thrill a 75 It was Communion Day. The simple table underneath the desk Was draped with linen, on whose snow was spread The feast of love — the vases filled with wine, The separated bread and circling cups. iiiiiiM The venerable pastor had come down From his high pulpit, and assumed the seat Of presidence, and, with benignant eyes, Sat smiling on his flock. The deacons all Rose from their pews — four old, brown-handed men, With frosty hair — and took the ancient chairs That flanked the table. All the house was still, Save here and there the rustle of a silk Or folding of a fan ; and over all Brooded the dove of peace. I had no part In the fair spe6tacle, but I could feel That it was beautiful and sweet as heaven. When the old pastor rose, with solemn mien, I looked to see the lady lift her head ; 76 Kathri?ia But still she bowed ; and then I heard these words " The person who unites with us to-day " Will take her place before me in the aisle, " To give her answer to our creed, and speak " The pledges of our covenant." Then first I saw her face. With modest grace she rose, Lifted her hat, and gave it to the hand Of a companion, and within the aisle Stood out alone. My heart beat thick and fast With vision of her perfe6l loveliness. And apprehension of the heroism That shone within her eyes, and made her a61 A Christ-like sacrifice. O ! eyes of blue ! O ! lily throat and cheeks of faintest rose ! O ! brow serene, enthroned in holy thought ! O ! soft, brown sweeps of hair ! O ! shapely grace Of maidenhood, enrobed in virgin white ! Why, in your rapt unconsciousness of me And all around you — in the presence-hall Of God and angels — at the marriage-feast Katlu'iiia 7 7 Of Jesus and his chosen — did my eyes Profane the hour with other feast than yours ? I heard the "You Believe" 01 the old creed Of Puritan New England ; and I heard The old "You Promise" of its covenant. Her bow of reverent assent to all The knotty dogmas, and her silent pledge Of faithfulness and fellowship, I saw These formularies were the frame of oak — Gnarled, strongly carved, and swart with age and use — Which held the lovely picture of my saint. And showed her saintliness and beauty well. At close of the recital and response, The pastor raised the plain baptismal bowl, And she, the maiden devotee, advanced And knelt before him. Lifting then her eyes To him and heaven, with look of earnest faith And perfecl consecration, she received Upon her brow the water from his hand. The trickling chrism shone on her cheeks like tears, The while he joined her lovely name with God's ; Kalhi'i]ia *' KaTHRINA, I BAPTIZE THEE ]N THE NAME "Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen! Still kneeling like a saint before a shrine, She closed her eyes. Then, lifting up towards heaven His hands, the pastor prayed, — prayed that her soul Might be forever kept from stain and sin ; Kat/irina 79 That Christ might live in her, and through her life Shine into other souls ; might give her strength To master all temptation, and to keep The vows that day assumed ; might comfort her In every sorrow, and, in death's dread hour, Bear her in hopeful triumph to the rest Prepared for those who love Him. All this scene I saw through blinding tears. The poetry That like a soft aureola embraced Within its cope those two contrasted forms ; The eager observation and the hush That reigned through all the house ; the breathless spell Of sweet solemnity and tender awe Which held all hearts, when she, The Beautiful, Received the sign of marriage to The Good, O'erwhelmed me, and I wept. Shall I confess That in the struggle to repress my tears And hold my swelling heart, I grudged her gift. And felt that, by the measure she had risen, She had put space between herself and me, And quenched my hope .'* 8o Katlirina She stood while courtesy Of formal Christian welcome was bestowed ; Then straightway sought her seat, as though no eyes But those of One unseen observed her steps. I saw her taste the Sacramental bread, And touch the silver chalice to her lips ; And while she thought of Him, The Spotless One Whose flesh and blood were symbolled to her heart, And worshipped in her thought, I ate and drank Her virgin beauty — with what guilty sense Of profanation ! Last, the closing hymn Gave me her voice again ; and this I drank ; Nay, this invaded and pervadecl me. Its subtile search found out the sleepnig chords Of sympathy ; and on the bridge of sound It built between our souls I crossed, and saw Into the depths of purity and love — The full, pathetic power of womanhood — From which the structure sprang. Just once I caught her eyes. She blushed with consciousness Of my strong gaze ; but paused not in hci hymn Kathrina 8 1 Till she had given to every word the wings That bore it, like a singing bird, toward heaven. The benedi6lion fell ; and then the throng Passed slowly out. I was the last to go. I saw a man whom I had known, and shrank Both from his greetings and his questionings. One thing I learned : that she who thus had joined This cluster of disciples was not born And reared among their number : that was plain. I saw it in her bearing and her dress ; In that unconsciousness of self that comes Of gentle breeding, and society Of gentle men and women ; in the ease With which she bore the awkward deference Of those who spoke with her adown the aisle ; In distant and admiring gaze of men. And the cold scrutiny ot village girls Who passed for belles. I stood upon the steps — The last who left the door — and there I found The lady and her friend. The elder turned, And with a cordial greeting took my hand. 82 Kathrina And rallied me on my forgetfulness. Her eyes, her smile, her manner, and her voice Touched the quick springs of memory, and I spoke Her name. She was my mother's early friend, Whose face I had not seen in all the years That had flown over us, since from her door I chased her lamb to where I found — myself She spoke with tender words and swimming eyes Of her I mourned, and questioned me like one Who felt a mother's anxious interest In all my cares and plans. Why did I not In all my maunderings and wanderings Remember I had friends, and visit them — Not missing her 1 Her niece was with her now ; Would live with her, perhaps — ("a lovely girl!" — In whisper) ; and they both would so much like To see me at their house ! (whisper again : Kathrina g^ " Poor child ! I fear it is but dull fur her, Here in the country.") Then with sudden thought— " Kathrina ! " With a blushing smile she turned, (She had heard every word), and then her aunt — Her voluble, dear aunt — presented me As an old friend — the son of an old friend — Whose eyes had promised he would visit them, Although, in her monopoly of speech, She had quite shut him from the chance to say So much as that. I caught the period Quick as it dropped, and spoke the happiness I had in meeting them, and gave the pledge — No costly thing to give — to end my walks On pleasant nightfalls at the little house Under the mountain. I had spoken more. But then the carriage, with its single horse, For which they waited, rattled to the steps. And we descended. To their lofty seats 84 Kathrina I helped the pair, and in my own I held For one sweet moment, hand of all the hands In the wide world I longed to clasp the most. A plain " Good Evening, Sir," was all I won From its possessor ; but her lively aunt With playful menace shook her fan at me, And said : " Remember, Paul ! " and rode away. " A worldly woman, Sir ! " growled a grum throat. I turned and saw the sexton. Query: "Which.''" "I mean the aunt.". .." And what about the niece.-*" "Too fine for common people!" (with a shrug). " I think she is," I said, with quiet voice, And turned my feet toward home. A pious girl ! And what could I be to a pious girl } What could she be to me 1 Weak questions, these, And vain perhaps ; but such as young men ask On slighter spur than mine. She had bestowed Her love, her life, her goodly self on Heaven, And had been noblv earnest in her gift. Kathrina 85 Before all lovers she had chosen Christ ; Before all idols, God ; before all wish And will of loving man, her heart and hand Were pledged to duty. Could she be a wife ? Could she be mine, with such unstinted wealth Of love, and love's devotion, as I craved ? Would she not leave me for a Sunday School Before the first moon's wane ? Would she not seek The cant and snuffle of conventicles " At early candle-light," and sing her hymns To drivelling boors, and cheat me of her songs } Would she exhaust herself in " doing good " After the modern styles — in patching quilts. And knitting socks, and bearing feeble tra6ls To dirty little children — not to speak Of larger work for missionary folk } Would there not come a time (O ! fateful time !) When Dorcas and her host would fill my house, And I by courtesy be held at home To entertain their twaddle, and to smile. While in God's name and lovely Charity's They would consume my substance 1 Would she not Become the stern and stately president 86 Kathrina Of some society, or figure in the list Of slim direftresses in spectacles .■' So much for questions : then refle6lions came. These pious women make more careful wives Than giddy ones. They do not run away, Though, doubtless, husbands live whose hearts would heal, Broken by such a blow ! The time they give To worship and to pious offices Defrauds the mirror mainly ; and the gold That goes for charity goes not for gems. Besides, these pious and believing wives Make gentle mothers, who, with self-control And patient firmness, train their children well — A fa6l to be remembered. But, alas ! They train their husbands too, and undertake A mission to their souls, so gently pushed, So tenderly, they may not take ofi:ence. Or punish with rebuft' ; and yet, dear hearts ! With such persistence, that they reach the raw Before they know it : so it comes to tears At last, with comfort in an upper room. Kathrina < But then — a seal is sacred to them, and a purse Or pocket-book, though in a dressing-room With shutters and a key ! Thus wrapped in thought, And selfish calculation of the claims Of one my peer, or my superior In every personal and moral grace, I walked along, till on my consciousness Flashed the absurdity of my conceits And my assumptions, and I laughed outright — Laughed at myself, so loudly and so long That I was startled. Not for many months Had sound of mirth escaped me ; and my voice Rang strangely in my ears, as if the lips Of one long dead had spoken. I received The token of returning healthfulness With warm self-gratulation. I had touched The magic hand that held new life for me : The cloud was lifted, and the burden gone. The leaf within my book of fate that gloomed With awful records, washed and blotched by tears- 88 Kathrma Blown by a woman's breath from finger-tips That knew not what they did — was folded back ; And all the next white page held but one word- One word of gold and flame — its title-crown, That wrought a rosy nimbus for itself ; And that one word was love. The laggard days My pride or my propriety imposed Upon desire, before my eyes could see The obie6l of my new-born passion, passed ; And in the low hours of an afternoon. Bright with the largess of a kingly shower Kathrina 89 Whose chariot-wheels still thundered in the East, Leaving the West aflame, I sought the meads, And once again, thrilled by foretasted joy, Walked toward the mountain. While I walked, the rain Fell like a veil of gauze between my eyes And the blue wall ; and from the precious spot That held the obje6l of my thought, there sprang An iridal effulgence, faint at first. But brightening fast, and leaping to an arch That sjDanned the heavens — a miracle of light ! " There's treasure where the rainbow rests," I said. Would it evade me, as, for years untold. It had evaded every childish dupe Whose feet had chased the bright, elusive cheat } Would it evade me .-" — question that arose. And loomed with darker front and huger form Than the dark mountain, and more darkly loomed And higher rose as the long path grew short ! Would it evade me } Like a passing smile The rainbow faded from the mountain's face ; And Hope's resplendent iris, which illumed 90 Kathrina My question, grew phantasmal, and at length Evanished, leaving but a doubtful blur. Would it evade me ? Gods ! what wealth or waste Of precious life awaited the reply ! Was it a coward's shudder that o'erswept My frame at thought of possible repulse And possible relapse ? " Oh ! there he comes ! " I heard the mistress of the cottage say Behind a honeysuckle. Did I smile .'' It was because the fancy crossed me then That the announcement was like one which rings Over the polar seas, when, from his perch, The lookout bruits a long-expected whale ! Then, sweeping the piazza from the spot Where with her niece she sat, she hailed me with : " So, you ar.e come at last ! How very sad These men have so much business ! Tell me how You got away ; how soon you must return ; Who suffers by your absence ; what the news. And whether you are well } " Brisk medicine Kathrina yi These words to me, and timely given. They broke The spell of fear, and banished my restraint. She took my arm, and led me to her niece, Who greeted me as if some special grace Of courtesy were due, to make amends For the familiar badinage her aunt Had poured upon me. 92 Kat/iriiia They had come without- One with her work, the other with her book — To taste the freshness of the evening air, Washed of the hot day's dust by rain ; to hear The robin's hymn of joy ; and watch the clouds That canopied with gold the sinking sun. The maiden in a pale-blue muslin robe — Dyed with forget-me-nots, I fancied then, And sweet with life in every fold, I knew— A blush-rose at her throat, and in her hair A sprig of green and white, was lovelier Than sky or landscape ; and her low words fell More musically than the robin's hymn. So, with my back to other scene and sound, I faced the faces, took the proffered chair, And looked and listened. " Tell us of yourself," Spoke the blunt aunt, with license of her years. "What are you doing now.''" " Nothing," I said. " And were you not the bo}' who was to grow Kathrina 93 Into a great, good man, and write fine books, And have no end of fame ? " The question cut Deeper than she intended. The hot blush And stammering answer told her of the hurt. And tenderly she tried to heal the wound : " I know that you have suffered ; but your hours Must not be told by tears. The life that goes In unavailing sorrow goes to waste." " True," I replied, " but work may not be done Without a motive. Never worthy man Worked worthily who was not moved by love. When she I loved, and she who loved me died, My motive died ; and it can never rise Till trump of love shall call it from the dust To resurreftion." I spoke earnestly. Without a thought that other ears than hers Were listening to my words ; but when I looked, I saw the maiden's eyes were dim with tears. I knew her own experience was touched. 94 Kathrina And that her heart made answer to my own In perfcd sympathy. To change the drift, I took her book, and read the title-page : " So you like poetry," I said. " So well my aunt Finds fault with me." " You write, perhaps ? " "Not I." "A happy woman!" I exclaimed; "in truth, The first I ever found afifefting art Who shunned expression by it. If a girl Like painting, she must paint ; if poetry, She must write verses. Can you tell me why (For sex marks no distinftion in this thing). Men with a taste for art in finest forms Cherish the fancy that they may become. Or are, vlrt's masters 1 You shall see a man Who never drew a line or struck an arc Kathrina 95 Direcfl an architedl, and spoil his work, Because, forsooth ! he likes a tasteful house ! He likes a muffin, but he does not go Into his kitchen to instru6t his cook, — Nay, that were insult. He admires fine clothes. But trusts his tailor. Only in those arts Which issue from creative potencies Does his conceit engage him. He could learn The baker's trade, and learn to cut a coat. But never learn to do that one great deed Which he essays." " 'Tis not a strange mistake These people make " — she answered, thoughtfully. " Art gives them pleasure ; and they honor those Whose heads and hands produce it. If they see The length and breadth and beauty of a thought .Embodied by another, — if they hold The taste, the culture, the capacity, To measure values in the things of art. Why cannot they create .-* Why cannot they Win to themselves the honor they bestow On those who feed them .-• Is it very strange That those who know how sweet the