Lady Rosamond's Secret - Rebecca Agatha Armour

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       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

       Table of Contents

      Breathes there a man with soul so dead,

       Who never to himself hath said,

       This is my own, my native land!—Scott.

      A September sunset in Fredericton, AD 1824. Much has been said and sung about the beauteous scenes of nature in every clime. Scott has lovingly depicted his native heaths, mountains, lochs and glens. Moore draws deep inspiration amid scenes of the Emerald Isle, and strikes his lyre to chords of awakening love, light and song. Cowper, Southey and Wordsworth raised their voices in tuneful and harmonious lays, echoing love of native home. Our beloved American poet has wreathed in song the love of nature's wooing in his immortal Hiawatha. Forests in their primeval grandeur, lovely landscapes, sunrise, noonday and sunset—each has attracted the keen poetic gaze. Though not the theme of poet or pen—who that looks upon our autumn sunset can deny its charms? The western horizon, a mass of living gold, flitting in incessant array and mingling with the different layers of purple, violet, pink, crimson, and tempting hues of indescribable beauty; at intervals forming regular and successive strata of deep blue and red, deepening into bright red. Suddenly as with magic wand a golden cloud shoots through and transforms the whole with dazzling splendour. The bewildering reflection upon the trees as they raise their heads in lofty appreciation, forms a pleasing background, while Heaven's ethereal blue lies calmly floating above. The gently sloping hills lend variety to the scene, stretching in undulations of soft and rich verdure; luxuriant meadow and cultivated fields lie in alternate range. The sons of toil are returning from labour; the birds have sought shelter in their nests; the nimble squirrel hides beneath the leafy boughs, or finds refuge in the sheltering grass, until the next day's wants shall urge a repeated attack upon the goodly spoils of harvest. Soon the golden sheen is departing, casting backward glances upon the hill tops with studied coyness, as lingering to caress the deepening charms of nature's unlimited and priceless wardrobe.

      Amid such glowing beauty could the mind hold revel on a glorious September sunset in Fredericton, 1824. To any one possessed with the least perception of the beautiful, is there not full scope in this direction? Is not one fully rewarded by a daily stroll in the suburban districts of Fredericton, more especially the one now faintly described? If any one asks why the present site was chosen for Government House in preference to the lower part of the city, there would be no presumption in the inference—selected no doubt with due appreciation of its view both from river and hills on western side. Truly its striking beauty might give rise to the well established title of "Celestial City." Though unadorned by lofty monuments of imposing stateliness, costly public buildings, or princely residences, Fredericton lays claim to a higher and more primitive order of architecture than that of Hellenic ages. The Universal Architect lingered lovingly in studying the effect of successive design. Trees of grace and beauty arose on every side in exquisite drapery, while softly curved outlines added harmony to the whole, teaching the wondrous and creative skill of the Divine. The picturesque river flows gently on, calm, placid, and unruffled save by an occasional splash of oars of the pleasure seekers, whose small white boats dotted the silvery surface and were reflected in the calm depths below.

      On such an evening more than half a century ago when the present site of Government House was occupied by the plain wooden structure known as "Old Government House," a group of ladies was seated on the balcony apparently occupied in watching the lingering rays descending behind the hills. Suddenly the foremost one, a lovely and animated girl whose beauty baffled description, espied a gentleman busily engaged in admiring some choice specimens of flowers which were being carefully cultivated by a skilful gardener. Bounding away with the elasticity of a fawn, her graceful form was seen to advantage as she stood beside the high-bred and distinguished botanist. The simple acts of pleasantry that passed shewed their relationship as that of parent and child. Sir Howard Douglas was proud of his beautiful and favorite daughter. He saw in her the wondrous beauty of her mother blending with those graces and rare qualities of the heart which won for Lady Douglas the deep admiration of all classes. Beauty and amiability were not the entire gifts of Mary Douglas. She was endowed with attainments of no ordinary stamp. Though young, she displayed uncommon ability in many different branches of education; shewing some skill as a composer and musician, also a talent for composition and poetry. With simple earnestness she placed her hand lovingly upon her father's shoulder, exclaiming "Papa, dear, I have come to watch you arrange those lovely flowers." "Well, my dear, you are welcome to remain. I am certainly complimented by such preference. You must allow me to acknowledge it by this," saying which, the fond parent plucked a white rosebud and fastened it in the snowy lace upon the bosom of his child. "Papa, dearest, one act of love certainly deserves another," exclaimed Mary, as she fondly pressed the lips of Sir Howard, adding "remember that you are my chevalier for the remainder of the evening. When you have finished, we will rejoin the company." Mary Douglas seated herself in a rustic chair and chatted in gay and animated tones while her father listened with a deep interest. The well tried soldier, the gallant commander at Badajos, at Corunna, the hero of many fierce conflicts, and the firm friend and favourite of the Duke of Wellington, listened to the conversation of his daughter with as much keenness as a question involving the strongest points of diplomacy.

      "Papa, this garden will fully repay you for your labour. I do wish that I could understand and enter into the study of plants and flowers as you do." "Ah, my Mary," exclaimed Sir Howard in a deep reverential tone, as his thoughts went back to the days of his boyhood, "I had a kind benefactress, and I may say mother in my aunt Helena. She created in me an early love for flowers, and I have always cherished it. Often during my campaign in the Peninsula, the sight of a lovely flower would call up emotions that would for the time unman me for the raging conflicts of battle. I always look upon flowers as the trophies of God's grace. Mary, I trust you yet will be able to attend to the cultivation of Heaven's choicest offerings, and remember, that by so doing, you only contribute a small share in the beautifying of nature." Having enjoyed this strain of converse for some length of time, Mary Douglas rose, exclaiming, "Now, Papa, you are at my service." Sir Howard bowed, and offered his arm to his fair daughter. Together they went out, being greeted by the merry party still lingering on the verandah. "Explain, Mary," said the foremost of the party, "this breach of confidence and utter contempt of the necessities of your friends. We have been vainly waiting your appearance to join us in a walk, and now it is nearly time to dress for dinner." "Very prettily said, Lady Rosamond," replied Sir Howard, "but as I wear my lady's favour, you will grant me a hearing on her behalf." Pointing to the spray of mignonnette and forget-me-not which Mary Douglas had placed on his coat, he continued, "I hope that your company has employed the moments as profitably. We commenced with vows of love and constancy, then followed topics of general conversation, and ended on the study of flowers. With this explanation perhaps some of this goodly company might favor us with a like result." "I venture to say, your Excellency, that in the present instance, we might too clearly prove the old saying as regards comparisons," returned Lieut. Trevelyan, "and would therefore enjoin silence." "Ah, no, Mr. Trevelyan," said Miss Douglas, "we will not allow our claim to be set aside in this manner. We must muster courage in our own self-defence as an offset to your acquiescence, or else papa will wear his laurels very lightly."

      "In the first instance," said she, "we were admiring the beautiful sunset, the soft outline of the hills, and the beauty of the landscape. Is that not worthy of describing,

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