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"I must leave this perfect Paradise in a few days, those enchanted moments and this beautiful garden, 10 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER which can never be equaled, and return to Sidney." "I am sorry to see you leave so suddenly, I wish you could stay longer," said Nelvy. "The longer I stay the harder it is to leave," replied the Marquis. "There is a rose, a beautiful rose in this garden, that my heart yearns for, but my courage fails when I try to ask." "Why that is simple," said Nelvy, cheerfully, "the garden is at my disposal, you may pack the whole plot off if that will make you happy; I can soon have another; I get flowers from all over the world, from Jerusalem to Ireland, and from the Sensitive Plant to the saucy little Shamrock." "But," continued the Marquis, "there is not a flower in all the world could fill the place of the one I love; none to vie in beauty, in sweetness, in loveliness and in innocence." Then, taking the hand of the beautiful Nelvy in his own, he slipped on her finger something that glittered "neath the bright Australian skies," while he named the rose in the following lyric, entitled "You'll Center my Garden of Love." {See Lyric N'o. 1.) THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 11 The lovely home was lonely quite In Aukland town, New Zealand, VVhen Nelvy left it, young and bright, The bride of Marquis Weland. To Sidney, fair, he took his bride, Their honeymoon not over, A jewel bright, a rose and pride. To husband and to lover. No fairer scene can fancy paint. At home or o'er the water, Than that dear wife so fair so faint, V/hen blessed with baby daughter. But brightest visions swiftest fade, As sunshine clouds may cover, Alas, as soon the bloom's decayed Of lovely wife and mother. 12 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER The proverbial line "brightest visions swiftest fade" was in this instance, alas, but too true, as the sunshine of the birth of Fair Elda was soon followed by the decease of her mother. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 13 Famed Weland Castle's darkened gloom No poet's pen can write it, That vacant space, fair Neh/y's room, That cheer all hearts delighted. 14 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER. The Marchioness bade a loving farevvell to her husband, kissed her baby, and then closed her eyes. To all appearance the supreme moment had come. The lovely lady of Weland Castle, whose life, though short, was full of words and deeds of kind- ness, whose smile was like the sunshire that dances on the sea, and her beauty, like the first rosebud in June, now lay motionless and white as the lily plucked in its bloom. "Boo-oo-oo," cried the baby in the nurse's arms, as if frightened by the strange stillness. The grief-stricken father, impatiently ordered the baby taken av/ay; the stiilnes was broken, the Marchioness was not yet dead; she opened her eyes, she tried to open her lips, but she only gasped in broken murmers, "oh, George, our baby," turned her eyes from one to another as if struggling to speak the last v/ord, "the Vv^ord that is ever unspoken." Once more was intense stillness, and with her hand resting in that of her devoted husband's she passed on to the shore of the "Great Forever," where hearts don't break and souls don't sever. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER But yet his angel wife had left, Ere Heaven's Hand had sought her, To cheer the home of her bereft A lovely infant daughter. The baby grew each day more fair, Cherub, the Marquis thought her. With all the love and tender care Of ^noble's only daughter. 16 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER With all his love for his only living child yet the memory of his fair bride was ever dear to the Marquis. His lamentation is expressed in the Lyric entitled, "Now Where's the Voice to Cheer Me." (See Lyric No. 2.) THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 17 At perfect age the maid appeared, To travel, form, besought her. To London, though her father feared To travel o'er the v/ater. A lady, with a title high. Of rank and elevation, Goes with the maid, you know just why, To famous London station. 18 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Marquis Weland's failing health would not permit a sea voyage, yet, anxious to have his daughter introduced into English society, places her in charge of a handsome young widow, "the charming Lady Emberton," who, by the way, had been forced by her parents to marry Lord Emberton, (a palsied old batchallor whose every look threatened a thunderstorm), but he kindly died, leaving his young widow the least a lord could, viz., the title of "lady" and the chance of another. The Weland yacht was placed at the disposal of the ladies, who visited many ports and one of particular interest. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 19 SoutK Afric's port, the Yankee fleet Was anchored on its water, There Captain Kerwin first did meet With Marquis Weland's daughter. His cheerful smile, his noble mien, The joy his presence brought her Like lightning, flashed a love, between Him, and the Noble's daughter. 20 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lady Weland and Lady Emberton, aione in the pretty drawing-room of the Weland yacht, ex- changed views on many subjects. Lady V/eland—"l wonder if we ever will meet those officers again? There was, well, there was something about the visit I cannot explain." Then she sings, "A Gallant's Love for Me." (See Lyric No. 3.) Lady Emberton — (who could always see the bright side of everything) "Why yes, my dear, life is long, and the world is a small place. They may be in London before us." THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 21 They met, but oh! how soon to part, Her yacht to London brought her, Where soon she wins each hostess' heart, Lords, earls, dukes, there sought her. 22 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lord Lindy—{di grave, haughty, handsome young Englishman, who could hold the hearts of at least half a score of London heiresses, not to mention matchmaking mothers), requested the fair Colonial lady to sing. Lady Weland granted the favor, {See Lyric No. 4, entitled '1 Know You'll Ne'er De- CIEVE Me"), her eyes mischievously resting on the gay lord, who began to think he held a new heart in the game of love, but he was sadly mistaken, for love-making in lordly fashion was regarded as a laughing matter by the happy-hearted Colonial heiress. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 23 She sang so sweet, her angel voice All hearts and souls a thrilling, And ladies were, as well as lords, To gain her favor willing. 24 THE NOBLE. AND HIS DAUGHTER One of the ladies, enraptured over the sweetness of her voice, and the beauty of her expression, requested another song. Ever ready to contribute towards the happiness of humanity, she sang, but this time with so much pathos that all present sat spell-bound. A strange feeling came over the ladies at the line "Pluck not the rose, dear; oh! spare it for pity,'' and the lords wondered where the lovely laurel grew. (See Lyric No. 5, entitled, "The Red Rose Will Fade,'') THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 25 At many brilliant balls she danced, And ardent swains there sought her, But none of them the heart entranced Of Marquis Weland's daughter. 26 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Arrangement for a ball at Berford Castle was in progress at the time the American fleet reached London, which brought about the following conver- sation between the guests: Lady Welmtd (Fair Elda) — '1 wish we could have the young officers we met at the Cape, at the ball. The perfect ease of manner, the absence of cramped up, cold formality, the air of freedom combined v/ith true courtesy, altogether, have held my heart a captive." Lady Emberton — "Leave that to me, Elda, truth is, it seems years since we met and parted at the Cape, and yet it is only three months. In the meantime, Elda dear, call me Dena. My first name is Oldena, Dena for short. When I married, or was married rather (for I v/as the least of all inter- ested in the affair) to Lord Emberton, he was sixty-eight; I Vv^as eighteen. My first burden was my title. For five years I scarce ever heard my name in the dear familiar tones of my girlhood days; my next was this black bonnet, although I must confess I wear it with a good grace, but here comes his lordship." Both ladies part and Lady THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 27 Emberton meets Lord Berford with her usual pleasant smile. Lady Emberton — "V/hy, here you are, I've been thinking of you a mxoment ago." Lord Berford— ''Nothing could please me better, may I dare say a guinea for your thought, the usual phrase is a penny for your thought, but you are so much above the usual?" Lady Emberton — "I feel highly complimented by your esteem, my dear Lord Berford, and as I rather doubt if my thought has a cash value, you shall have it free. The American fleet is paying a visit to our port just nov/, and as you are arranging for a ball at the Castle, Lady Weland and I wish an invitation extended to the officers w^e met at the Cape." Lord Berford— ''Welly my dear lady, I was not mistaken when I placed your thought beyond the average, but pray what can take it towards Yankee favor. Y/hile nothing can give me more pleasure than compliance with your slightest wish, yet how can you place yourself on a level v/ith those boys 28 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER who have no pedigree, and as little regard for a king as a cowboy?'' Lady Emberton (playfully)— ''Really, my good lord, the motto they carry, is dazzling in its splendor to the limited range of our minds, (Virtue, Liberty, Independence), however, I will manage to make myself interesting, even in my ovvai dull way." Lord Berford—''! declare, my good lady, your sense of wit and good-nature is almost provoking; pray what interest at heart can Vv^e have for those men, or what courtesy do you think v/e owe them, the progeny of men, whom, under other conditions, our ancestors might have styled rebels, traitors, menials?'' Lady Emberto?i — ''My dear sir, your last statement referring to ancestral folly and class distinction is painfully true, we owe those people a great deal, a debt, I fear, v/e will never be able to pay. They have shov/n us what a gallant can do, and a tyrant can't dare; they have seen v/hat we can do, yet they've shov/n us what we cannot do. They respect themselves without reference to mossy tombstones or threadbare titles, but true living men; they not THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 29 only demand, but command the respect of all fair and noble-minded the world over. Let us cultivate cheerfulness; those people can show us hov/; it is a greater honor to be able to take defeat gracefully than to conquer vauntingly, unless it be to defend your hom.e. Then, I say, glory to the men who win their country's independence." Lady Emberton looks at her watch, then exclaims, "Why, bless me! we have been talking nonsense here almost an hour, missing, perchance, somie of the meiry glances the Great Omnipotent casts on thoughtless mortals. Come, let's decide about the ball." Lord Berford—''R.eally, my dear Lady Emberton, I am too lacking in wit and humor to dare a further controversion with any one so truly brilliant as my fair companion, therefore, name any request, I am at your service." Lady Emberton takes the arm offered her, chat- ting gaily while both walk leisurely across the veranda towards the hall that led to the drawing- room of the Castle. 30 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lord Berford gave a brilliant ball, Young Kerwin there's invited, The Marquis' daughter most of all Her very heart's delighted. They danced all night 'till ere the dav/n. Lords, earls, dukes, did chide her. But she was nought of coward born. And love's own light did guide her. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 31 Desperate with jealousy over the attention paid the young American naval officers by all the ladies, and especially that of Lady Weland and the charm- ing young widow, both centers of attraction, young, beautiful, and vivacious, the Earl of X ventured to rebuke Fair Elda for her numerous dances with Captain Kerwin, but with a flash of sparkling wit and humor not infrequently found among the Australians, and her face radiant with smiles, she quickly changed rebuke to ridicule, and the Earl, whose general make-up presented the gaity of an undertaker on duty, was forced to smile. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Her ardent love, her vivid mien, A Yankee maid you'd thought her, When in her Sidney home, again. Is Marquis Weland's daughter. Missives came from many a port. From many lands and stations, To praise, perchance, to pay her court As fairest of creation's. And one, before her heart and pen Its lines had time to answer, The Yankee fleet from o'er the main, Off Sidney bay cast anchor. Another came, its seal she knew, The mark the seal did cover, 'Twas Captain Kerwin's, gallant true. Her daring Yankee lover. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 83 Now comes the Duke of C who in other days was deeply in love with Nelvy, but whose princely position made it impossible to contract an honorable marriage with the daughter of a hotel-keeper, although the beautiful Nelvy repeatedly refused his many requests for a private interview and his love received no more incouragement from its object than an occasional chat among the guests in the drawing-room of the Aukland Hotel. It was in those days he formed the friend-ship of Marquis Weland (his gallant rival). Those days, like those people, are gone, yet the Duke remains, young, (at least in his own estimation) . In the whirl of London society, he meets Lady Weland; he is still single, though he never tells why. His Grace (the Duke) is not a man of many words. "Another Nelvy," he soliloquized. "There is now no social barrier; she is a lady, born to rank and title; she shall be mine." He never asked himself if he might not find that the prize he expected to so readily win was more than falls to the average Duke, "A heart and a hand," oh no! Neither did he ever believe that the 34 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER noble-minded Nelvj^ cared as little for himself as for his title, and would modestly refuse both, had they been offered her. He pressed his suit for the hand of the beautiful, and, I might add, immensely wealthy young heiress, with a formality that would do justice to the King himself. He recited to her a brilliant history of ancestors, lords, earls, dukes and princes, some kings and queens, all dead, of course; but Fair Elda was too much alive with the meeting at the Cape and the whole-hearted manner of the Yankee officers fresh in her mind. She simply smiled. "Well, what do you think?'' said His Grace. "Why, sir, I think you have a great many dead friends." The Duke finding that rank and title held little charm for Lady Weland, also her marked attention to Captain Kerwin, resolved to v/rite to Marquis Weland and clearly state the state. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 85 London Court September 10th, 19— Marquis Weland, My Dear Friend: Trusting you will pardon the apparent liberty I take to express my views on such a personal and extremely tender topic. However, our former friendship, together with the distinctive social position we each occupy, will doubtless prove my well meaning in what might otherwise be considered intrusion into your family affairs. Y'our beautiful daughter, (the Fair Lady Weland) shows decided democratic ideas, expresses her admiration for republican government, and I have reason to believe even her heart has a course in that direction; therefore, for the sake of our youthful friendship, I would suggest an entire change. If you take your fair daughter to this fashionable city, it would have a different effect on her taste and character, from the rather quiet manner of the Colonists. Here, the whirl of social influence would stimulate advancement of rank, rather than the risk of retreat, if not the complete resignation of title. Any time you desire to spend a season here, my castle is at your service. I am, dear sir, in strict confidence. Your ever sincere friend, Duke of C— , S6 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Forewarned of the shadow, or sunshine, as the case might prove, that hovered around his lovely daughter, the Marquis decided mentally to meet the situation in a reasoning manner. There was reason, however, which Marqris Weland could never forget, why he could not entirely discountenance love, but he silently answered to his questioning conscience, "This is a man's world, he takes woman to his social sphere, he has the right to love, but she must wait the proposal, and take the highest offer." THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 37 Fair Elda in the parlor sat, The Marquis, there, soon sought her, To have their merry evening chat. The Noble and his daughter. The candles shed refulgent light. The fire sparkled warmer. On Elda fair, all robed in white, A perfect angel charmer. Her father to the maid drew near, Said, "Elda, dear, take warning. The Yankee fleet in port is here, I visit them next morning— "The garb they wear demands respect. Though peasant blood may taint them. Tomorrow night they'll be our guests. What e'er our fancies paint them." 38 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Here the long slumbering spirit of O'Dv^^r shed its fiery luster from the eyes of Fair Elda. Never before did she present such perfect lovliness as, rising to her feet, she turned to her father with gentle yet firm disproval of his sentiment. "My dear father, permit me to state, that I respect or despise no garb; you may robe a coward in purple plush, he may wear it with a good grace as long as hidings protect him, but give me a gallant man whatever cloth or color he w^ears." THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 39 "Why father," said the maiden fair, "How could their blood degrade them. What need they for blank title care Since valor, noble made them? "High honor, love, and freedom's flag. Those men these all possessing, Why dare we of vain titles brag? 'Tis foolish and distressing. " 'T is vain my father, dear, to boast Of blood, by work untainted, While gallants may respect our coast, Nor heed us ere acquainted." The Marquis had his secret fears Of naval love, and daring, While Elda, careless, light appears, Her wonted smile still wearing. 40 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Full well he new his daughter's love Of valor, worth, and honor, As well he knew how vain 't would prove To wrest those fancies from her. Of beauty's charm and wealth untold She'd more than mortal's measure. And neither saucy, stiff, or bold. Though handsome, tall, and clever. By fortune's chance, and beauty's charm, Were knightly swains around her, No human heart could think of harm 'Mid scenes that sparkled round her. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 41 Somewhat alarmed over the personal and political views expressed by his fair daughter in the afore- mentioned interview, the Marquis took the Ducal warning seriously, and as a personal concern not infrequently exhibited among the nobility, in supprt of a tottering title, and so expressed his sentiment in the following letter. 42 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Sidney Square, Weland Coukt, September 16th, 19— Your Grace, Duke op C- My Dear Friend, The appreciation which I feel regarding your personal concern for the welfare of my idolized daughter cannot readily get framed into words, less still can the pen portray such words, but as the pure streams rush on to mingle their waters in the deep river, together to be carried on to the sea, so rush on the thought stream of noble minds to meet and mingle in the "river of life" ere we reach "The Great Ethereal Sea." So, resting in anticipation of your annual visit, which I expect in the near future, to the Colonies, and the favor of your most estimable sojourn at my Court, and wishing you fair weather and a pleasant voyage I am, dear friend, Yours, ever sincerely, George, Marquis of Weland. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 43 "Dear Elda." said her father fond, "Who would be here to cheer me If you should seek some other land— Another sphere, and leave me? ''Now Weland's blood, and birth, is known For many a generation In every noble English home. The pride of all the nation. 'Xook on those suitors, earls, dukes, Would any lady flatter. My word's advice, and not rebukes. Fair Elda, dear, my daughter. ''And yet I feel that none would dare To win my darling daughter V/ithout that rank and title fair That ancestry has brought her," THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Here, Fair Elda recites the lines of an impromptu lyric to her devoted parent, entitled, "Think on the Fair and Smile on the True." {See Lyric No. 6) THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 45 "Why, father, you are all to me That human love can cover, I give you all the love, you see, Of father and of mother. "So do not sit and ponder here O'er fortune, fame, and title, A gallant man you ne'er need fear, But shun the vain and idle. "Think on the flag, its freedom's worth. Those gallant men that fly it, Think on the praise it thunders forth. Can honor bright deny it. "And who dare tell a noble man His humble birth degrades him, Then boast he, of a class or clan That idle pomp has made him. AQ THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER "The lilies in the garden fair, No brush they need to paint them. And roses with a fragrance rare, Man's art can only taint them." Fair Elda was her given name. Cold titles bound her other, An only child to wealth and fame, Since Heaven claimed her brother — But roses in the garden fair. Will sometimes droop and wither Back to the earth with fragrance rare, Forever, and forever. Lords, earls, dukes, and other men, To win her did endeavor. When asked who, soon her heart would win. She simply answered, "never." THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Light-hearted, gay, and free from care, In ball-room or at dinner, She smiled as sweet with face as fair, On earthly saint or sinner. 48 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lady Emberton— ij^he champion of cheerfulness, and bosom friend of Fair Elda) after a visit to the East Indias. arrives at Weland Castle and after an affectionate embrace, Lady Emberton perceiving a troubled look on the face of her fair companion and hostess, exclaimed, "Why bless me, my dear ! what is the matter, are you ill, or has something terrible happened, Puss eloped Vvdth Polly, or any such catastrophe, where is your radiant smile? I must know or I will spend my last sixpence and then raffle my bonnet to pay for the search." Fair Elda—'' Ah\ Dena, you can always be jocose, you have mother, brothers, and sisters to confide in. My father, whom I so dearly love, has been informed by some other than me, of my meeting with the Captain, and even now shows opposition to my admiration. What, when he hears as he must, some day, the true secret of my love. Oh! Dena, the battle is hard, my father's pride and my own love, all to fight out alone. Plow often 1 have v/ished (though I knew my wish was about as logical as that of the child, who after watching for S3me time at a new moon, asked her father to get THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 49 it dov/n to her, so she could sit in its center, catch hold of both ends, and use it for a rocking-chair) for the love and companionship of a mother, brothers, and sisters. Then, my father's divided love might not demand such entire submission to his pride." Lady Emberton— ''My dear Elda, I can tell you what to do, if that will bring back your wonted smile. You just simply marry the grouchy old duke. You will then be 'a duchess.' Just imagine the social advancement, access to the royal court circle, a sparkling gem on the right arm of 'His Grace,' the homage of the king, the envy of half the ladies of London, and the flattery and admiration of all. Now if this piece of advice does not meet your approval, as I happen to know it is your father's wish, you may be thankful you have but one to reason against. When Lord Emberton (my deceased husband) proposed to mxe, (or rather to my father) I had over a dozen — a father, mother, three brothers, four sisters, grandfather, uncle, and two maiden aunts. There is a proverbial saying 'many hands make light work,' well it was 'many 50 THE*NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER tongues' in this case. I was the youngest, and the only one who did not want to marry the lord, and when all had their say in the matter, there was nothing left for me to say, and still less to do; there was not an unguarded skylight through which I might escape, though in the lonely stillness of the midnight before my wedding-day, only my heart, could fly to the outstretched arms of the poor and noble prince of honor, to whom I could so willingly and so happily give my hand. But name not the follies unnumbered, Or ask not the minstrels to sing The pain of the hearts that are sundered, The poison of vanity's sting." Fair Elda—iRer lips quiverirg in open combat between a tear and a smile) "Poor girl, yet you are always so cheerful, it does seem sad to have you wear that horrid black bonnet, so young, so—" Lady Emberton—Interrupts, "Why my dear, it is as refreshing as a cloud in the tropics, my deceased husband's v/ill provided me a thousand a month and a widow's vail for two years thenceforth. I THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 51 will enter no further detail, but when the clouds roil by, and the sun shines, I will bask beneath its rays, in a bonnet of my own choice." Fair Elda — "My dear Dena, you take such a jocular view of everything, but let me tell you this, that the whole British army could not force me to marry a man I did not love." Lady Emberton— ''LoYel Love, my dear, is a mild statement, suppose you'd say 'not tolerate.' The British army placed the great emperor on yonder rocky island, granting, that, that is not as bad as to marry against your heart's dictates, but that has been done too." Fair Elda - "Then what in the Vv^orld can I do? I vow I will never marry an Englishman; there is only one man in all the world for me." Lady Emberton — (teasingiy) "And if that's not the one you happen to want, he is a whole lot too m^any." (Both laugh) Fair Elda— ''You are positively cruel, my dear Dena, in your manner of ridicule, yet your statements v/orry me; do search your spacious mind for some practical advice to give m.e." 52 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lady Emberton— ''Marry the Captain without further ceremony." Fair Elda~''But, Dena, I don't know if he wants me, in the meantime, I want nobody else." Lady Emberton — "Well I know he does, or anybody else does who ever saw him in your company. I wish I was— oh well! that would be telling." Fair Elda—^'He never quite told me so, and when we met and parted at the Cape, he was as courteous and respectful to my maid as he was to me, I think it was his manner of true courtesy to women in general (which I have learned is the custom of his country) that excited my admiration in the first instance, from which love so readily and so rapidly grows. Here, every step higher you get in rank, you are given that much more courtesy, until, I think, a queen must be perfectly miserable with never a hope of a true friendly handshake, or a natural smile." Lady Emberton — "And as you com^e down until you get to what you might call 'no rank' such as I (being youngest daughter) before I became Lady THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 53 Emberton, you may be thankful for 'nothing' if you are kindly allowed to live," Fair Elda— ''Well Dena, we will have the ball at the Castle here, on Wednesday night. The Marquis has given an invitation to the Yankee officers, which has been graciously accepted; I have not yet had an opportunity to meet the Captain, but aside from all your jokes, I wish I could believe as you do about the Captain's love. The Earl of X— - and the Duke of C — will be among the number." Lady Emberton — "Before the hour to enter the ball-room, while the guests are assembled in the drawing-room, I will request you to sing Tll Marry No Other But You.' I will then see that the Captain sings another. I assure you we will hear just about what he thinks. A song can always tell what you want it to." Both ladies break into merry peals of laughter, as Fair Elda remarked, "Why Dena, we are planning here like rebels preparing to storm a garrison." "Allowing so," returned Dena, "yet the garrison is open, and at least one invader, can safely enter." 54 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER The evening of the ball at last arrived, and so also arrived the guests at Weland Castle. ''Fair Elda," robed in a gown of pale blue silk, trimmed in pink roses, a perfect picture of loveliness, greeted the young officers v/ith a cheerfulness that had no rival. Lady Emberton (the charming young widov\r) acted as hostess. At the request of Lady Emberton, Fair Elda sang, v/hile her eyes met the eyes of the young Captain. {See Lyric No. 7 entitled, "I'LL Marry No Other But You.") The song was finished amid a thunder of applause, followed by a silence almost painful, until the ever vivacious v/idow, requested that some one sing another of the same description. A silence followed, then Captain Kerwin, in reply to Lady Emberton's personal request, pleaded, "My dear lady, though it is beyond my power to render anything to vie in beauty with that just rendered, yet I will try, in compliance with your wishes." Captain Kerwin then sings "I Shall Marry None But You" {See Lyric No, 8.) Captain Kerwin 's song was followed by another from the Earl of X— entitled, "I Love A Queen Though THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 55 She ¥/ears Not A Crown" (See Lyric No. 9.) Next came the rather good natured "Lord Berford" who v/ould, if he could, conceal his love for the charming j^'oung widow, and sings the following careless little ditty, entitled, "Keep Away Love From Me" {See Lyric No. 10.) Fair Elda now sings an impromptu song, entitled, "If I Were Only An Humble Maid" (See Lyric No. 11.) Lady Emberton again requests Captain Kerwin to sing. This time there is no need of apology; all knew what a beautiful voice he possessed; yes, he did possess a beautiful voice, which he poured out from the very depth of his soul in answer to the questioning line "If I were only an humble maid," its intense feeling reaching straight to the goal for which it was intended. His listeners sat spell bound, and the proud Marquis, though in spite of his social prejudices, could not conceal his admiration for the gallant principles conveyed in the sentiment of every line of the song, entitled "To The Land Of The Free I Would Take Thee" {See Lyric No. 12.) 56 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Then at the ball where last they met Though knightly swains had sought her, The lovely smile Til ne'er forget Of Marquis Weland's daughter. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 57 The hour to enter the ball-room had not yet come, there was a stir among the guests, everybody was occupied in eager converse with somebody, all, save Lady Emberton, who, at that supreme moment sat pensive and alone. Presently, one of the officers was by her side and requesting her to sing (nothing could have been more pleasing to her ladyship than this request, and especially from whom it came, but, in her coy manner, she pleaded the following): Lady Emberton— ^'l am afraid, if I would sing, or rather, try to (nobody ever was pleased to say I sang, though I do occasionally chirup), you would all get impatient to dance, and then, the time to begin dancing is not for some time yet. So I think it better to be excused." Officer— ''y^eW then a song that might suggest such merriment of mind as to set the feet moving, is certainly worthy of appreciation, therefore, no excuse is acceptable." Lady Emberton— ''Well then, if I must sing, I must, that's all. Will you play the accompani- ment?" Could the Yankee officer not read the 58 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER fair widow's mind, she plainly poured her thoughts into the following lyric entitled, "Oh For a Home Where all Hearts Can be Free" {See Lyric No. 13.) The song was ended followed by the unanimous applause of all present, although, some admiring swains did not fully appreciate the expressed sentiment, but all knew the merry widow would have her way, and so, the lords, dukes, and earls, decided to take her indifference gracefully, and Lord Berford (with an affability that would do credit to the most gallant son of "Old Glory" especially in sight of almost certain defeat in the gam.e of hearts) requested the young lieutenant to sing, at the same time offering his own accompaniment. The request was readily granted. The lieutenant sang a refreshing little ditty, entitled "We'll all Make Merry 'Till the Morning." The merriment, expressed in this number combined with the light-hearted manner in which it was rendered, created a general infection of gayety, and all present joined in the chorus, {see Ditty No. 14) nor did the line "v/e'll all make merry 'till the THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 59 morning" confine itself to the limits of the drawing- room, or the spacious ball-room; no, it held sway from garret to basement, from hall to garden, and from kitchen to kennel. A war of words, and I might add some strong gestures, waged among the servants, which started between the French house- steward and the Chinaman cook. The Chinaman had previously lived for some time in California, cooked for some of the best families there, and so believed himself (as Chinamen usually do) thoroughly competent and above the bond of dictation. But the house-steward knew better, it was his duty to see that everything was the very pink of perfection, and to make sure that his duty was perfonned to the letter, he took a sample glass from each beverage, from English ale to champaigne, and from light wine to strong brandy. So far, he was contented, everything was palatable, now he comes to look after the cooking, and incidentally, to give some directions. House-Steward— 'Tsiiiez vous Francais, Sing?" Sing— ''No savy." House- Steivard— Proceeds to give some directions. 60 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Chinaman— ^'Y on do the cookey, I go outside, I do the cookey you go outside." The dutiful house- steward, determined to leave no duty undone on such an important occasion, walks to the range as if to inspect something. But the irritated cook seized a bowl of boiling broth and dashed it into the Frenchman's face; then, in perfect self satisfaction, talked the matter over with himself saying (between a smile and a growl) "He know he hot, now, he do." The English butler, impatient about how things came to the pantry, flew into a temper which he let out on the poor little frightened housemaid whose duty was between the kitchen and pantry, and who was only a short time in the employ of Weland House. The butler had some occasion to step into the servants' hall. There he met Jimey Daly (the coachman) who had overheard his unjust reproaches to the poor, little, timid housemaid. ^?^^/^r— "Heverything is 'orrid 'ere, I think I will speak to that 'eathen cook, myself." Jimey Daly— ^'YoWd. better not, if you know what's good for you." THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 61 Butler— ''This place is hawful, w*at will those lords, dukes, and heads, think w'en they go 'ome to hold Hengland ?" Jimey Daly — "I wish your lords and old England were in — " Butler— 'In 'ell! did you day?" Jimey Daly—"NOy I would not spoil my good grammar, but with a h in front of your ell that would be a good place for them." Riot reigned in the servants' quarters, which the haughty housekeeper, (Miss Myra Grunston, an ancient maiden, less from choice than from not being chosen, "the daughter of a broken down gentleman," whose pride was so much larger than her pocket book, and whose art could not meet the demands of her heart, whose position held her above the servants, and beneath her employers, who dined by herself, lived by herself, loved by herself, was nobody's favorite) was unable to quell. She had to go summon the aid of the very "Fair Elda" herself, whom everybody loved, and nobody feared. Even the Chinaman said "you all right, 62 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER me do eberyting you like." Everything ran smooth again among the servants, even the nervous Kttle housemaid took courage in sight of the pleasant smile of "Fair Elda," but, the housekeeper, in her own secret heart, vowed she would never, never, never, hire another Chinaman. The clock in the castle tov/er, struck eleven, there was yet an hour before the grand march would take place. Lord Berford requested the Fair Lady Ems (whose every look showed a yearning for the attention of the Earl of X—) to sing. She sang the song, entitled, "Beautiful England Fair Vanity's Shrine Is In Thee." (See Lyric No, 15.) This number, which was certainly beautifully rendered, received a wonderful applause, and whatever the Yankees thought of the sentiment expressed, the flattery the fair lady received from them turned her head and I might add, her heart too. Miss Julia Jones— {A young and beautiful governess, and incidentally an heiress to some millions recently left her by a deceased uncle in Virginia) was requested to sing by the Countess of THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 63 Ailey. Visions of the haughty Countess on other occasions, and of shady hue, now flitted before the mind's eye of the former Httle governess, now "the flattered heiress" and, tossing formality to the wind, she sang the uncouth and rolicing little song entitled, "Oh ! What a Kind and a Lovable Man My Hubby Has Been to Me" {See Lyric No. 16.) Nothing could have commanded greater applause than that given this rusticated little ditty, perhaps it was the natural carelessness with which she sang it that made it all the more novel. Lord Berford, who alw^ays hovered somewhere near the charming young widow, seating himself beside her asked my lady if she could sing anything better than that. Lady Emberton— {to his lordship) "I think it impossible to get anything better, but I believe I can do worse," and almost immediately began to sing to the sam.e ragtime tune "A Little of Love Does Me" {See Lyric No. 17.) All present sat spellbound at this repition of rolic, which seemed almost an insult to aristocratic dignity, it was so unlike the self-sacrificing Lady Emberton as all 64 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER remembered her gentle regard for the whims and fancies of her ever complaining late husband. Even the former little governess (the pretty Julia Jones, and faithful friend of the merry widow) raised the following question: Miss Julia Jones— ''My dear Dena, how could you ever voice those lines, you whose nature is as truly noble and gentle as your heart is mirthful ?" Lady Emberton — "And you, my dear Julia, how can you give voice to such sentiment as 'live in a calico tent, and, work to pay the rent V I must confess I don't believe you, truly, I believe you have had as bad a sample of work as I have had of other things, so let's compromise, here comes the princely Lord Ailey." (Lady Emberton who always loved the former pretty governess, and knew the secret of the Ailey romance, the cruel pride of the Countess, the two years travel on the Continent, and the broken promises, to whom rank was one thing, but love and honor was everything, saw the governess become an heiress, also saw the decided change in the demeanour of that haughty lady, to the now flattered heiress and could scarce conceal THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 65 her feelings and as the grave young lord gave his long low bow of formal courtesy, both ladies broke into such a merry peal of laughter, that it melted the gravity of the noble Lord Ailey into a gayety that might do credit to an amateur comedian. Lord Ailey - To Miss Julia Jones "Well, My Dear Miss Julia, you have resigned your position with the Marchioness of H~. Permit me to congratulate you, on your advance of fortune, and I may add, social position. M/s5 /(9;^^5— Interrupts, "social position" with a tinge of anger, and the memory of a dead love. "My dear Lord Ailey, there is no advancement in my social position, therefore, congratulation is a superfluity. I possess an education, and an ability to educate, speak and teach seven languages, also music and art. Pray what do you call social position? I never did, as I could see no reason to consider myself beneath any position. True, fate did not always furnish me a couch on which to recline in idleness and luxury, or hang round me the cold chain of title with which to toy, yet it has given me a gift far greater, one which chains can't 66 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER bind, and gold can't buy, 'a free heart and a happy mind/'' Lord Alley— ''My dear Miss Jones, if my words meant offense, I am heartily sorry, yes my dear Julia, your pardon I would ask on my very knees. Had my speech been a blunder 'twas only the sparkling cinders of the lingering love that the pride of my social surrounding tried in vain to stamp from my heart, would no longer be controlled, and so expressed my joy on the occasion of your leaving the drudge of the school-room." Miss Julia Jones— -''And in resigning the school- room I resign every social strain of the pure and simple. I love children. Have you ever read the poem entitled, 'The Lovable Face of a Child?' " (See poem No. 18.) Lord Alley— ''But, my dear Julia, will you not permit me to make atonement for what may seem to you coldness or neglect in the past two years. Every moment since we parted seemed to me a lifetime, the cruel self-denial which constantly rent my heart was all a sacrifice to my mother's pride. But now, the cross has fallen. She has at length, THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 67 to my unspeakable joy, come to realize the great truth, the sublimity of a true and noble love/' Miss Julia Jones — ''Dear good soul. Then you must have been dining on foxglove and watercress recently, and so have propagated a heart in that vacant space, while mine might break if it would. But who cared about the heart of a governess? certainly not you, or your vain mother. There is no harm done, therefore, nothing to atone for. The spirit of my love you held captive for a time, as a lark is sometimes caught and held by some careless bird-fancier until neglected and forgotten the bird finds an opening and again flies to the high sphere of true freedom. In like manner are open the wings of my spirit. In a few days I will sail to America, the land of fortune and freedom." Lord Ailey — "But you will return again ? There, you will fail to find that form of culture which is, undoubtedly, an absolute necessity to complete the measure of your happiness. With your unlimited ambition you will soon tire of the hum-drum sameness, no rank, no fame, no distinctive title." Miss Julia Jones — Interrupts, "Title, my good 68 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER lord, might decorate a tomb-stone where lies the body of one who leaves the world no other mark by which to be remembered, and rank is no more to me than the jingle of empty seashells. I will enter no further detail about America or American principles as I have left the school-room, and believed you had, a long time ago, but your education is sadly deficient, and for that reason would advise your haughty mother to take her simple son for another two years' trip around the world, nor stop at Continental Europe, and think you have traveled the world. There is a land of far greater interest to humanity, a land of opportunity and enterprise. Fate can play such strange pranks, that a knowledge of the truly noble may yet prove itself to you, a boon." Lor^ A//^3^~"But,my dear Julia,our mutual love." Miss Jones— '''The rebound of a ball of worth, is greater than the bound, so with a heart. Say no more about love. For, **Thy heart must be free from the fetters Of vanity's false dignity, Thy soul must be true to the letters That spell out the word purity. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 69 *'So waste, sir, no more of your language, Your fancies or false words on me, For mine's not a spirit to languish O'er vows that v/ere broken by thee," Lord Ailey—^'My dear Julia, can you forget your promise, you, with face so fair, a heart so true, and mind so noble ? Will you not forgive even though I kneel here before you ? My heart, my love, my very life I lay at your feet. Is there no hope of forgiveness, or must I but live to regret ?" Miss Julia Jones— ''li I could believe you truly loved me you still might win the heart and the hand that I, and I only, have the right to control. To gain this heart and hand you must be a man — (not a lord) you can resign your title, and leave your estate to an institution or college, for the education of the children of disinherited nobility, (who, by chance, possessed true hearts and followed their hearts' dictates) then, we can live in perfect happiness in that new sphere of ti*ue freedom^ the United States. " Lord Ailey—''MY dear Julia, your stipulations are astounding. Pray ! how could I resign that mark of social distinction which has been my birthright 70 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER for ages? Title, my dear, is that distinctive mark that demonstrates the individual superiority to the general populace. So you see the utter impossibility of such a stupendous sacrifice on my part. I would be nothing without it, and you-^only." Miss Jones— Interrupted. "And less with it my good lord, and I, you inquire ? I am the daughter of Lady Elizabeth and Patrick-Joseph Jones (who would not change a single drop of his Irish blood for all the breath of kings). My mother was disinherited by her father, because she married the man she loved, who had the heart to love and the hand to provide. In love they lived, in love they died at an early age. I was left to the tender care of my father's brother, the result of whose honest toil (long before fortune smiled favourably on him) paid to rear and educate me. Now, in the dim shadow of life's receding years, and lonely and loveless, my grandfather regrets his cruel treatment of his own, and only child, tries to make amends for the past, by offering to make me his heiress, and establish me as. Lady Ontaigue, THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 71 the envied mistress of his whole possessions, but, while I pity him in his loneliness through the blindness of his early pride, I would not change one happy thought for Briton's Royal robes." Miss Jones then hums a merry little tune half aloud to his lordship, entitled 'Tll Bid Farewell TO Sidney in the Morning," while she waits for the young Virginian counselor who now comes to claim her for their next waltz. {See Lyric No. 19), Lord Alley left to himself, muses over his lost love, and the lost charce of at least a million gold guineas more than he ever will capture with one of his cool, titled ladies, calls himself a name that the bible forbids man to call his brother. Awaking from his short reverie he is almost terror-stricken to see the pleasant faces of Fair Elda and Captain Kerwin beaming with smiles, almost besides him. Could they have heard ? thought he, oh no, they looked as though they could hear but the sweetest music, for bliss shone on each countenance. So he was at peace on that subject. 72 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lord Lindy, for her smiles, would die, Lord Rockford, for her blushes, Lord Norman danced in idolance Unto the lady's wishes. The band played up a merry tune As Captain Kerwin entered, And every eye of buds in bloom Was on the Captain centered. For tune entitled "Let Every Man Feel Gay AND Young and Every Maid Look Cheery," see Lyric No. 20. The beauty of that ball-room bright. And the men of high renown, And faces beaming with delight, Of those queens without a crown No human heart could e'er forget. Or remember with a frown. And though it pains, can I regret That sweet night in Sidney town. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 73 Fair Elda with the Captain danced Though the lords did on him frown, And Cupid, sure, two hearts had lanced In fair Sidney's merry town. The dance was o'er, the maid sat down Behind a v/ealth of roses, The Captain to the fragrance drawn, A walk outside proposes. They strayed beneath the fragrant leaves. No thought of sorrow fearing. And Luna 'mong the tall palm trees In secret, there, v/as peering. Fair Elda at the bright moon glanced. Young Kerwin, the rose-bushes. And each another step advanced, And each had secret wishes. 74 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER "Tomorrow," said the Captain young, "Our fleet this port is leaving," The lady closer to him clung. As if in secret grieving. He told her stories of the sea, Of gallant deeds and daring, But coward 'most confessed was he. To part with her when nearing. They plighted troth and vows of love. Beneath the moonbeam's shining. Each happy as a cooing dove. Each future joys divining. He held her jewelled lily hand. Not e'en a glove did cover. He held her pure and noble heart, Her brave accepted lover. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 75 There was a recess between dances and the Countess of Alley who was not quite as young as she used to be, though possessing most of her beauty, and all of her hauteur, feeling a little fatigued, decided to get away to a quiet corner, v/here, alone, she might take a few moments respite, so she walked into the conservatory, there, she came straight on to her son who had, perhaps, for the same reason, sought the same secluded corner, and was so preoccupied with himself, and so much interested in his own company, that he was almost entirely unprepared in mind and manner to meet the following interview. Yet the Countess was his mother, and he could not deny her any request, or fail to answer her every question. Countess— ''Welly my son, I am so glad to meet you here, and alone. This evening is perfectly enchanting. Hov/ beautiful the moon looks as one looks through the trees. It seems as though all nature were smiling tonight. But, tell me, have you made it all right with the heiress ?" 76 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lord Alley— ''No, my dear mother, but she has made it all right v/ith me." Copmtess— ''Then, you have given up all thought of marrying the beautiful Lady Elmerina ? and the dear sweet girl so much in love with you, the thought almost pains me, for I feel somev/hat to blame, but she shall not be forgotten. I will see that she meets another who may prove as worthy, though I know there is none can equal my son." The Countess then recites the following im- promptu poem: *'0h love, thou sweet deceiver, What angel from above Can teach the fond believer What constancy can prove." Lord Alley— "I never had a thought of marrying Lady Elmerina to give up, nor do I think she could think so very much about me since I have never recognised her as more than my mother's respected friend, and, even had the case been otherwise, she has as good a right to forget me as I had to forget pretty Julia Jones, v/hen, in compliance with your THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 77 wishes, I bade her farewell for two years, and then, unmanfully, broke all the promises I had made her." Countess — "Promises like those, my dear son, are made to be broken. Miss Jones was then but a governess, unaccustomed to the dainty luxuries of high life, and entirely beneath your social sphere. Those promises, my dear, were no m.ore than a heated pulse-beat, or a thoughtless, boyish fancy. Under those conditions, you had every right to forget her, yet I have not a doubt, that v/ith her present enormous fortune she could carry the title of Lady Alley, with a good grace." Lord Alley— '"'My dear mother, alas, fair JuHa Jones or anybody else, will never bear the title of 'Lady Alley' as far as I am concerned and if you disapprove of my sentiment, you know who is most to blame." Countess— ''My dear son, we must forget the past and begin over." Lord y4/%— "What would you have me begin?" Countess— ''YoMV former love affair with the handsome heiress." 78 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Lord Ailey~''l have already told you, that that is all over, and I should rather begin over the Crimea war (although I can boast but little the brilliance of the brave) then again encounter the just rebukes for the smouldering love of the former pretty governess, now the flattered heiress." Countess— ''You must not waste words or thoughts on such folly. Sentiment, my dear, is one thing; society is everything. The king cannot always marry the lady he loves even though he has the right to rule the realm. I think Cupid is very kind to turn the tide of fortune towards your special favor. Here comes the lady. I will advance to meet her; we will have a pleasant little chat between dances. How charming she looks." Lord Alley — "She always possessed the natural sweetness, combined with independence, that goes a long way to produce charm." Countess—Meeis Miss Jones. "I am delighted to see you so happy. You look like a perfect picture." Miss Jones— ''Oh ! thank you, it is very kind of your ladyship to say so, I feel highly flattered." THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 79 Countess — 'Is it true, my dear, that you are arranging for a visit to the United States ?" Miss ones — "That is perfectly true, madam; furthermore, I have no intention of a hasty return." Miss Jones then, unrequested, sings a careless little lyric, entitled "I Bid You The Top Of The Morning," {see Lyric No. 21) and then takes a hasty departure from the countess, to meet the young officer who is her partner for the next dance. Never before had the countess been foiled in any undertaking. Almost breathless, she walked out on the veranda where she might breathe freer and regain her composure. Seating herself in an armchair, alone, she thought the matter over, and enjoying that perfect freedom that vacant space affords the soliloquist, she gave voice to her feelings in the following verses. Why dare she to speak with such pertness to me, She, who's born a commoneer's daughter, Or mention a land than dear England more free, No matter what gain it has brought her. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Though fate on her smiled, strewed her rough patb with gold, Forgetting his pride a lord sought her, 'Twas v/ell that she proved how ungentle and bold. Will still be a commoneer's daughter. No matter what star will her clouded path light. To steer her far OTer the water, No matter what jewels her bosom bedight. She's still but a commoneer's daughter. And why do I worry, and why do I fret. My equal I ne'er could have thought her. For had my son v/on her I ne'er could forget. He wedded a commoneer's daughter. Yet somethings about her I cannot forget. That have seemed with a lustre to shine. And somehow I secretly feel a regret That her spirit and pride v/ere not mine. Such were the musings and mental arguments of the Countess, until roused by the noise of approaching footsteps and animated voices. Turn- ing around, her eyes met the pleasant smile of the young and handsome Lord Kilbane and the Earl of X—. Lord Kilbane— Addressing the Countess as both gentlemen seated themselves on either side of her ladyship. 'Tou here, alone; an opportunity like THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 81 this for a quiet chat with your ladyship is so unusual, but it seems as if everything were unusual tonight. Have you heard that Miss Julia Jones (the new American heiress) is the daughter of Lady Elizabeth, the disinherited daughter and only child of the Earl of Ontaigue. The Earl has repented for his unkindness to his child and the cruel pride that would not listen to her dying request to come and speak one kind word, one word of forgiveness for what in right and justice, no true man could call a crime. He has now, in the sunset of his life, proclaimed Julia Jones (his granddaughter) the legal heir to his enormous estates." Countess — "Then tomorrow she will doubtless hear herself addressed with the title of 'lady.' I wonder what she v/ill think of herself, the change is so wonderful from a mere governess to fortune and fame too. Think of it, 'Lady Ontaigue.' " Lord Kilbane — "She thinks herself, as she always did, free and independent. She has refused the title that follows the Ontaigue estates, but has accepted its revenue, which she will turn over to the maintainence of a college for the education of 82 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER the children of disinherited nobles. Title holds no attraction for her. She shows a greater regard for the company of that young American lawyer (who has come here on account of matters regarding the estate of her deceased uncle) than anything I know of. She danced most of the evening with him, he calls her Julia and she calls him Jim." "Simply Jim" put in the Earl. "Fd say lucky Jim," said Lord Alley (who held a vacant space in his heart and his home too, had she never become an heiress.) The Duke of C — , who had made the trip from London for the occasion, and naturally received very little attention from Fair Elda, was engaged in eager converse with Marquis Weland, the Duke urging the advisability of a year's sojourn in the British metropolis, and carefully pointing out the marked attention between Fair Elda and the young American. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 83 Beneath the stars in Sidney, there, They told the same old story, How each would be to each as fair. When feeble old and hoary. Fair fortune on them calmly looked, But fate, that reckless rover. The roses from the garden plucked Of lady and of lover. His noble form and heart above All else who ever sought her. Oh ! fancy Captain Kerwin's love For Marquis Weland's daughter. He pressed her to his manly heart, They kissed, he soon must part her. While petrals, ere the fleet did start Were shrieking o'er the water. 84 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Fair Elda sings "When Gained Are The Hopes That We Cherish" which hints an elopement. {See Lyric 22) Elopement impossible. {See promise in Lyric 23) 'Tll Still, My Dear Elda, Cling Fondly To Thee." Next day our ship was bound to start To sail the briny waters, Though love-ties bound the Captain's heart And Marquis Weland's daughter's. See Captain Kerwin's parting song {Lyric 24) "My Soul Will Seek And Find Thee." Oh ! when has love's light brittle barque Sailed o'er a sea's smooth w^ater, To Captain Kerwin's story, hark. And Marquis Weland's daughter. The furious sea was heaving As our gallant ship set sail. Though safe, the port we were leaving. Yet more fiercely blew the gale. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER When out upon tte ocean deep, More furious blew the storm, And soon upon our good ship's deck Arose cries and wild alarm. Our ship had sprung a fatal leak. But our sailors young and brave, Most manfully at work did keep For all of the lives to save. For two whole days at work we kept Still hoping for assistance, Until the storm had fiercely swept Our flag from its existence. The Captain ordered, "to the boats," For the ship we could not save, We hastened then for life to boats, Or to fight the stormy wave. B^ THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Two hundred souls, alas, that nighty Though fierce the st(Hin did rave. Pulled out, the stormy waves to fight^ Else meet a watery grave. Few, few, have lived to tell the tale. Many a heart is broken, And many a maid in hopes dwell. To hear some loved words spoken. And one, alas, for fondest love. Though knightly swains had sought her. Our Captain loved, all else above, The Noble's only daughter. How fond she gazed o'er Sidney bay The day our ship was leaving. Why there she stood, ah, who can say What pain her heart was wreathing. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 87 The fleet far off from the bay, yet Fair Elda, while gazing on the waters, sings "Blow Him Sweet Breezes, Oh Blow Him Fair Weather" {See Lyric 25,) Of all our men, were left but three To tell the sad disaster, A note, our Captain gave to me— If I might live him after— To give the maid, his bride to be, And tell her still he loved her. And should his grave be on the sea, His last fond thought was on her. Then through the fog and stormy sea, We saw, some two days after, A glimpse of land, it seemed to be An arc upon the water. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER It was an island, lone and free. And on it we took shelter. And then our Captain, where was he ? Oh I ask the wind and water. For days upon that island lone. With rocks our only shelter, We lived in hope of help to come, No food but fish and water. The pangs we felt no words can tell, Of piercing cold and hunger. At latt one comrade sadly fell. For he could stand no longer. From then, my comrade, Frank, and I Clung closer to each other. We cheated death, I don't knov/ why, While bitter blew the weather. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 89 From davvn to dark, wdth longing eyes We watched the dim horizon, At night, lay 'neath a rock, to ease Our weary eyes from gazing. Some time before the dawn of day, We saw a ship approaching, It was a barque from Bisky bay, Oh ! deep was our devotion. With cries for help, we hailed that ship. And that did now reward us. They took us on their homeward trip, And comfort did afford us. In many months, I sailed again The Australian water. And then I sought, but not in vain For Sidney's fairest daughter. 90 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER I gave to her that letter, drear, And its saddened lines, she read With blanched cheeks and silent tear, 'Twas a message from the dead. She'd lived in hope of news to hear That might her young heart gladden, The fatal news, she could not bear, She had no heart to sadden. {See Lyric 26) "Thinking, Alas, He Was Dreaming Of Me." Her lovely ringlets round her fell Of blond, luxuriant hair, Though in a mansion she rnay dwell, There is no solace there. Next, on her dying bed she lies From that twilight until day, With heavy sobs and tearful eyes. These words, I have heard her say— THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 91 ''Oh make my grave both wide and deep, Although I am not his bride, And if the shore, his body seek. You bury him by my side." She then sings "Grieve Not, Oh ! Grieve Not, There's No Need Of Sorrow" (See Lyric 27.) Her father knelt beside her bed And tried to soothe her anguish, "Ah father dear, she cried, he is dead For whom my life doth languish. "You said I dare not give my hand To him who loved the water. He has my heart, grim death my hand. Now farewell loving father. "If you did only give consent Two lives, perhaps, you would save. You may in time your words repent When Fm in my lonely grave. 92 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER "My mother loved but you alone Is life not to all the same ? The one I love though dead and gone I have lived to love his name. "He lies beneath the angry wave, And over him flows the brine, And when within the silent grave The grass will cover mine — "Oh think not hard on him who died Upon the briny water, Come kiss again once more she cried Your dying only daughter." Her father kissed his only child, And he smoothed her silken hair, And then in tears and anguish wild He cried as in deep dispair: THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTEPw 93 ''My darling child, my soul forgive, Could I live my life again, I gladly my consent would give Whoe'er your true heart would win/' The maiden looked with vacant eyes Into her fond father's own, You loved me then you thought it wise, And bless me when I am gone. She closed her eyes no more to rise She breathed a silent prayer She hoped beyond the bright blue skies She would meet her lover there. Now pale and cold in bridal clothes And a casket lined with down, To the dark grave this maiden goes, Through lovely Sidney town. 94 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER They made her grave both long and wide. Then for her soul did pray, And youths who loved her deeply sighed. When their last farewell did say. The maid was scarcely laid in grave, When betwixt the sea and skies, The Captain's body o'er the wave. In fair Sidney bay did rise. The Noble robed the lifeless clay As it were to meet a bride. And on the same sad funeral day They are both laid side by side. Ah, who can stand beside each grave And think on fate aught harder, Than Captain Kerwin's, young and brave And Marquis Weland's daughter. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 95 Their graves were wet with loving tears, Soon, grass began to crown them. They differed through the change of years From other graves around them. The lady's grew a lily fair, A rose grew o'er her lover, Each grew, the fairest flower there, And each, a grave did cover. And when they grew so fair and tall. Their faces met together In true love's knot entwined to fall. Where none can e'er them sever. Fate's bitter cup is hard to drain In luxury or hunger, Say what can ever soothe the pain Of Marquis Weland's languor. 96 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Now in a mansion's, sad and lone, A noble, old and weeping, He thinks of loved ones, past and gone. His aged heart most breaking. He ponders o'er the pleasant past When in boyhood gay and young, Ah, fairest flowers shortest last. When once loved, then plucked, soon gone. He thinks of her bright pleasing smile Who was his beauteous bride, That fair young maid so free from guile Who for him, then would have died. He thinks of a loved virgin young And of her gallant lover. In grief he cried 'twas cruel wrong Two loyal hearts to sever. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 97 There are no children fond and dear, No loving lips to bless him. There are no smiles his heart to cheer, No fair hands to caress him. He loved but once, a love in twain, His wife and only daughter, To take his wife an angel came, A seaman for his daughter. He oft' may see the young and gay Pass in a merry train, Though pleasant words to him they say, He can never smile again. The stars will shine as bright again And the sun as brightly beam, But Weland's heart no cheer can gain, He lives in a gloomy dream. 98 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Alone, in his lordly mansion, Marquis Weland was often heard singing "I Know That The Bright Stars Are Shining But Gloomy The Clouds Look To Me." (See Lyric 28.) Ye winds from out the ocean deep, Blow here a breath of solace Where Marquis Weland vigils keep Within a lonely palace. One evening, as he viewed the bay And he heard the ocean roar, With a longing sigh he wished for the day When his weary life w^as o'er. There is no sound of music soft To cheer up his saddened day. The hand that waked those strains so oft' Is mouldering cold in clay. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 99 ( See Lyric 29) "In Love They Lived And Died." There are no sounds of voices sweet Blent around his brilliant board, There are no ruby lips to meet Those of her most cherished lord. (See Lyric 30) entitled "Fair Nelvy." He sometimes wanders to the woods And he hears the wild birds sing. "Ah, what to me are earthly goods? Wealth, alas, but troubles bring. "Oh had I but an humble cot, How happy I nov/ might be. And to my fond child's love-made lot. Then, I gladly might agree. 100 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER "Though fortune's glitter may beguile With her titles grim and cold, Oh give me back one long lost smile, And take the glittering gold." See Lyric 31, "Sing Me One Strain From The Careless And Free." He sees the cotter's little girl Tripping merrily along, Her careless ringlets 'round her v/hirl While she sings a rustic song. He sees the ploughman's daughter fair Standing by her lover's side. Her humble father blesses her, She is now to be a bride. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 101 He hears the anvil's thrilling sound, And he hears the blacksmith sing, Life keeps busily circling round, But as still as death to him. Those simple scenes he ponders o'er At even's sun's declining. Ah, soon the sun of life is o'er, So ceased his heart's repining. See Lyric 32, "Calling Me To Go." He turns to home in deep distress. He enters its massive door, His weary head his pillows press, His last long walk is o'er. Now on his dying bed he lies And the end is drawing near. To soothe his pains a stranger tries, As she smoothes his hoary hair. 102 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER See Lyric 33, "When I Am Dead," See Lyric 34, "Let Me Dream My Barque Has Landed On That Lovely Golden Shore." Ah me, grim death is sometimes kind When hfe is hard to bear, When there's no love to leave behind Or, dear, beloved ones here. He closed his eyes no more to rise. He breathed a silent prayer, He hoped, beyond the azure skies. He would join his loved ones there. Now pale and cold his body lies In a casket decked v/ith gold, There are no sobs and sober sighs. But friends who are stern and cold. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 103 Last, in the lone dark grave he lies, His loss there is none to mourn, And happy youths and maids arise In that mansion long so lone. This ends the story v/ith the exception that the rather good natured Lord Berford, by quiet perseverance, won, and wed the merry widow, and Miss Julia Jones, who, as an American heiress, repeatedly rejected British titles, was won and wed by the young Virginian lawyer, our hero's friend and cousin. But, oh I with love, that ruler bold, Don't dare, my friends, to struggle, His tie, the sternest heart can hold. To dare him means but trouble. So parents, if you've but one child, And e'en a prince had sought her. Oh ! blame ye not, but bless ye mild The love that wins your daughter. 104 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER For kings may fall and courts divide. As breakers swell and sever, And men may boast of fleeting pride, But love rules on forever. For conclusion see Lyric No. 35, entitled "The Noble And His Daughter." PART TWO Lyrics and Recitations THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 107 YOU'LL CEHTER MY CARDEH OF LOVE. /^H ! give me your hand as a token— ^^ A promise I'd prize 'most divine, My vows, dear, will never be broken. Your smiles, love, I long to call mine, A palace serene I will build thee, My darling, my sweet, little dove, A wall of devotion I'll build thee, To shelter our garden of love. With jewels, my dear, I'll enrich thee. And should you my proffer decline, My life I would give, dear, to win thee. My soul wait in Heaven for thine. Then tell me, oh ! tell me you love me, All else and all others above, A mansion of joy I will build thee, To centre our garden of love. 108 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Oh ! had I the gems of the ocean, All gold of the deserts was mine, Vd give for your fond heart's devotion, Or starve if you care not for mine. Then true as the stream to the sea, dear, Along by life's river we'll rove— With hearts ever trusting and true, dear, Bright rose of the garden of love. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 109 NOW WHERE'S THE VOICE TO CHEER ME. r\^ I the red, red rose will bloom as fair, ^^ And the purple on the heather, But my rose is dead, my lily rare. From my garden's gone forever. Flowers will bloom and the birds will sing. The stream from the sea can't sever. But where is the voice a cheer to bring, 'Til we meet where we part never? 110 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER A GALLANT'S LOVE FOR ME. ^T' LOVE the swish of the ocean's waves ^^ And the sigh of the sounding sea, Then give me the love my spirit craves, The love of a hero for me. A queen may prize her golden crown. But the silvery waves for me, Give me not title's high renown, But a gallant's love for me. Oh ! tell me you love me, tell me true, Chase away the clouds that hover, Then ask of the winds if I love you. My, fond, daring, ocean rover. A queen may prize her golden crown. But the silvery waves for me, Give me no title's high renown, But a gallant's love for me. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 111 I KNOW YOU'LL NE'ER DECEIVE ME /^H ! I love a gallant young hero ^^ From a land far away o'er the main, I long, oh ! I long he were here, oh ! Here, to never return back again. Oh ! come back to me From your home o'er the sea. For, only your absence can grieve me. Oh ! come, come to me Then my heart will be free, I know you'll ne'er deceive me. The stars will shine o'er another clime And the wild ocean waves will glisten. My heart for a gallant's love will pine And my soul in its silence listen. 112 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Oh ! come back to me From your home o'er the sea, For, only your absence can grieve me, Oh ! come, come to me Then my heart will be free, I know you'll ne'er deceive me. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 113 THE RED ROSE WILL FADE. ^KHE red rose will fade like the bright apple ^■^^ blossom, Then let its sweet fragrance float heedless and free, But one pleasant smile can ne'er fade from my bosom. Green as the laurel is that vision to me. Pluck not the rose, dear, oh ! spare it for pity, Check not the vine let it cling to the tree, Roses are fair and fragrant and pretty, But only the laurel's lovely to me. The red rose will fade, dear, Hke hopes that we cherish, And visions the brightest the soonest will flee. For lilies the fairest and loveliest perish, And nothing seems true but the laurel to me. Pluck not the rose, dear, oh ! spare it for pity, Check not the vine let it cling to the tree, Roses are fair and fragrant and pretty. But only the laurel's lovely to me. 114 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER THINK OH THE FAIR AND SMILE ON THE TRUE /^H ! seek, dear, the spot where sunshine's the ^^ fairest, Pluck the bright rose, dear, when pearly with dew, While tears may be sweet and smiles are the rarest. Heed not the false, dear, but cherish the true. Fortune's bright glitter may vanish tomorrow, Vanity fade like the glitter of dew. Borrow not, dear, from the cold store of sorrow. But think of the fair and cherish the true. Guild you a cage yet the bird longs for freedom, Lovely the rose yet it pines for the dew, Though chains be of gold yet who would not flee them To seek for a heart that is kindly and true? THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 115 I'LL MARRY NO OTHER BUT YOU. ^"YOU tell me you love me sincerely, ^^ With a heart that is tender and true, How oft' will you sigh to be near me, When away o*er the ocean so blue? And when I am here sad and lonely. With a heart that beats only for you, Should a king on his throne Plead to call me his own, rU marry no other but you. Should a king on his throne Plead to call me his own, ril marry no other but you. Then tell me again that you love me. Though away, far away, you may roam, That true as the bright stars above me. Your heart will be with me at home. While the sunflower's true to her god, dear, And the rose, love, is true to the dew. 116 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER Should a king on his throne Plead to call me his own, ril marry no other but you. Should a king on his throne Plead to call m.e his own, ril marry no other but you. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 117 I SHALL MARRY HONE BUT YOU. /^H ! I tell you Nora, dearie, ^^ That my heart is fond and true, And I long to have you near me. For I love none else but you. If you tell me that you love me Sure, I know you're kind and true, While the stars are bright above me I shall marry none but you. Should another win your favor, With a heart less true than mine, I can never love another, Since my heart is wholly thine. Then, you love me, tell me truly, True as roses love the dew, While the stars are bright above me I shall marry none but you. 118 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER I LOVE A QDEEN THOUGH SHE WEARS NOT A CROWN. ^TT' LOVE a queen though she wears not a crown, '^^ But a king on his throne would have sought her, And I know she would smile if I dare frown On a love far away o*er the water. Oh ! if I had the voice of the sounding sea Or the sigh of the swish of the ocean, I would sing the praise of the true and the free, While Pd sigh for her fond heart's devotion. Oh ! come give me, oh ! give me a sailor's suit, And ril sigh 'mid the storms of the ocean, Though I cannot play on a harp or a lute, I can then still my heart's wild emotion. But a woe to the heart that is fond and free, Though the wealth v/ere the gems of the ocean. For my heart, dear, will break for the love of thee Sweetest girl of my fond heart's devotion. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 119 KEEP AWAY LOVE FROM ME. /^H ! there may be dangers in the deep, ^^ 'Mong the surges of the sea, If guardian angels vigils keep, May they keep off love from me. His dart, I fear, like a sword or spear. Though the sting may pleasing be, You may always fear a sigh or tear. From his ties, oh ! keep me free. 120 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER IF I WERE ONLY AN HUMBLE MAID. ^T'F I were only an humble maid ""^ Gathering up the shells from the sea, Oh ! who would the gods of fate upbraid For the love of a maid like me. For the ties of gold may sometime break, And fortune and friends may sever, Say, who would live for my own sweet sake. If fame was shrouded forever. Or should I sink 'neath the ocean wave, Oh ! where is the gallant lover Who would risk his life mine own to save Ere the waves roll fierce me over ? THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 121 TO THE LAND OF THE FREE I WODLD TAKE THEE. "t^F all of thy fortune, and title, and fame, "^ And the nobles who court thee today, Should vanish tomorrow and leave thee in pain. To the drift of hard fate, dear, a prey, Thou couldst fly to my bosom, sweet, gentle dove, I would banish thy sorrow and pain, For thine own trusting heart and true, gentle, love. Is the greatest of all earthly gain. In the land of the free and the home of the brave. Where none need from ancestry borrow. Where men, dear, are men, no vain titles they crave. And love need not pine, dear, in sorrow, I would then thee adore as tonight, dear I do, Though thy wealth and thy beauty decline, My heart, dear, may cease to beat, sometime, for you. But in Heaven our souls will entwine. 122 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER OH! FOR A HOME WHERE ALL HEARTS CAN BE FREE. ^l^HEN I am dead and you bury me deep ^^ Where I know you will place me with care, Speak to me kindly before my last sleep, Then breathe for my spirit a prayer. O'er my casket no beautiful flowers. In your kindness I wish you to lay. There are living you may comfort for hours, Then, give them a bright rose while you may. Oft' I have met as I joumied along Half fainting and falling by the way, Some mortal, perchance, I might mourn when gone. Had I gazed on his motionless clay. 156 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER When in my casket, cold, lifeless and dead, You may gaze on my motionless clay, Talk not of sorrow or kind words unsaid. But come speak your kind words while you may. If a kind word to cheer or to flatter. In friendship, to me you Would say, I would rather right now, dear, far better, Than your praise o'er my motionless clay. If you chance, dear, to stand by my casket Ere forever Fm laid in the clay, Oh ! then smile, my dear friends, ere you cannot. For you too will be silent, some day. When my eyes they are closed then for ever. And my lips and my ears to earth's play. May my true friends be happy together. And my soul to my God find its way. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 157 LET ME DREAM MY BARQUE HAS LANDED ON THAT LOVELY GOLDEN SHORE. /^H ! Fm longing, longing, longing for the dear, ^^ sweet smiles of yore, For the faces, fair and friendly, in that bright forevermore. Oft* I see them, oft' I hear them singing sweetly as I dream, How the crowns they wear do sparkle like the little stars that beam, Let me sleep, oh ! do not wake me while I view those scenes once more. Let me dream my barque has landed on that, lovely, golden shore. On that, lovely, golden shore, on that, lovely, golden shore, Let me dream my barque has landed on that, lovely, golden shore. 158 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER i am dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of that, lovely, golden shore, And I see the angel faces far more happy than of yore, I can hear them calling, calling, as Fve never heard before. Far across the misty ferry on that, lovely, golden shore. Let me sleep, oh ! do not wake me while I view those scenes once more, Let me dream my barque has landed on that, lovely, golden shore. On that, lovely, golden shore, on that, lovely, golden shore. Let me dream my barque has landed on that, lovely, golden shore. THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER 159 THE HOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER. ^TT'N the cold dark grave they have laid him alone, ""^ 'Tween his wife and his beautiful daughter, And that was all the end of his angry frown 'Gainst the gallant who came o'er the water. Often the wanderer who'll gaze on the tomb. Breathes a sigh for cool fortune's fair daughter. As he thinks on the maid's and the noble's doom, And her gallant's who came o'er the water. 160 THE NOBLE AND HIS DAUGHTER But now in the mansion that was long so lone, You may list' to the gay peals of laughter, There's none there to sigh for the noble, now gone. Or to pine for his beautiful daughter. Then, praise not the gods for her title and fame. Or the pride of the lords that had sought her. But sing ye the praise of her love, and the name Of her gallant who came o'er the water. THE END. ^; 1^ i ^ DEC i ^S1' ^''^^.. ^^^^ .0^ •i::nL'* ^ b./:^'^'/ V'^'\^*'' "°^'^"^'%°' "^ i' .^'X » ^*\'i:^'\ c,°^^^^'\ ./\:«^' '*A0< V-^'*\/ " J^.^l^L.'.,''^!^ ^^' O *' 9 <^. ""• ^r ^' - V^.OV'.'^CV ■ a0^..1^'«/'^> "" V"^" .'•.. '-^o b'-. ■% .A* -'aVa*'. ■^'t. ,^** -'^S^'. ^^ A* .*. -^cv -•\^°' ^^ V'::^\.*^ "q./?^.'\0'> V'. '"•" x..^^' :'^':%.y yMk^^\J^- ^'. ^^- ^^ A-^ ^:( V ': ^^ •^o. (C^. ^^o> .^'^'^^^^l^^ >^ ^^"^^ o* O, \.^*'^.- p ..i:i.v'>. A WERT BCX)K8INCHNG I Crantville. Pa Nov -Dec 1988 ■ e Ou*/t(y - ..V -bv^^ »'. -^U-o^ o', • -^V*^ ! IS iMh '•:H^.^!j^,(,•;■. Ilii iii