Rensselaer Republican, Volume 16, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 July 1884 — NAMESAKES. [ARTICLE]

NAMESAKES.

"Close the shutters, Kitty. What a wild night it is, to be sure!” “The rain is coming down in floods,” said a young girl, peering out into the pitchy darkness A barrack ground (still and ugly under the most.favorable circumstances), looking like some desert waste in the howling wind and driving rain, /was just visible. “Why, Aunt Belle,” she continued, pausing with one hand on the shutters, “here is a name scratched on this pane of glass. I never noticed it till this minute.” “ What is the name ?” asked the old lady, indifferently, half asleep in her cosy armchair by the fireside. “K-i-n-l-o-c-h—Kinloch, Scots Greys, 1816.’ ” read the girl; “and then ‘Kitty’ written very badly just below.” “Kinloch! Kitty!” said Aunt Belle, starting up with sudden interest “Why, that must be the same man,!” Then she sank back again, murmuring: “Ah, Kitty! there was love in those days, and romance, too!” “Is there jio love now ?” said her niece, coming to her aunt’s side and kneeling down on the hearth rug. The ruddy flames and glow from the fire lit up the girl’s chestnut hair, fair complexion, and bright hazel eyes. Aunt Belle looked lovingly down at the piquant little face held up to her, and said: “Now and again we meet some of the right kind; but would you like-Jo hear the. story of that namesake of yours, Kitty ?” “Very much.” “Well, fifty years ago, as you can easily reckon, I was a girl of 19, and •was invited to spend the summer months with my aunt, who then had one of the finest houses in this county of Kildare. “Several regiments were stationed at the camp and at a neighboring village, so you may imagine the girls of the party and I looked forward to having a gay time. Oh 1 those few short summer months, Kitty! I grow young again when I think of them! The rides across the Curragh in the fresh morning air, when in parties of ten or twelve we would gallop for miles on those breezy stretches of emerald turf; the handsome officers who enjoyed having hide and seek in the dusky evening hours all over the old-fashioned house, starting out of the corners and from behind the doors and chasing us breathless dowti the slippery oaken corridors. Then, tired out, we would stroll into the garden, and under the trees there would be songs, flir ations, and whispered confidences and promises made by the score and never fulfilled. “What a mad, merry time it was! And the maddest, the merriest, the handsomest of all was a young Scotch lieutenant, Kinloch Kinloch. His mother was Irish, and bad bequeathed her good looks and prosperity for joking. And now for Kitty, the heroine. She was the daughter of an old gardener who lived- about a mile away from my aunt’s bouse, and of all the distractingly pretty women that have made men do foolish things, I am sure Kitty was one of the prettiest,” “What was she like?” "No description could come up to the original: but I can tell you that she had the Irish blue eye; a complexion like milk; hair of the brightest and ‘silkiest chestnut, curling in little rings all over her brow and neck, and a slender, the envy of half our girls. On one day, as a large party of us were standing chattering under the trees, Kitty passed us with a basket of fruit - ■ • -i- ‘ , “Kinloch for the first time noticed the girl and seemed struck dumb with amazement. “He stood at a little distance and kept his eyes fixed on her. “It was love from that very moment, and every one noticed it. “All the other young fellows, of course, immediately swarmed around the girl's basket, and began fMping themselves with not so much as ‘By your leave.’ "Kitty began expostulating, but they put her off. “ 'Sure, Kitty,’ said one, ‘and you would like us to have the best. I’ll be bound.* “And another, ‘Mahone, one kiss from that cheek with the bloom of the peach upon it will save yon from these rascally thieves', for I will fight them all for such a favor!" “But Kitty was not to be bribed, and seemed about to resign herself to the loss of her fruit, when Kinloch shouldered his way into the group, and giving the last speaker a friendly push, cried: ‘Leave the girl alone, Grant !* And then, turning to Kitty, took the gasket out of her hands, saying: ‘lt is too heavy for your little arms and there will come no one stealing your fruit now, I’m thinking!’

*• ‘I thank you,’said Kitty, gratefully, and walked along by his side “ ‘That is the first time I hate seen “my lady” allow any one to fetch or carry for her,’ said her. Brother. . “ ’There is no gainsaying Kinloch, thqn, as I can tell you, Harry!’ I cried; for he always gets his own way in what he wants.’ “ ‘Especially when it has to do with pretty girls!’ sneered Grant. “ ‘Treason!’ we all shouted in a breath. ‘Knloch is the same to us all, to everybody.’ “ ‘Of course,’ Said Grant, recovering his temper; “but are you not all pretty girls?’ “We laughed, and did not deny the soft impeach ment; so the momentary breach was healed. “That was the last time we noticed Kitty coming up to our house with her fruit. “We knew nothing we could have said or done .would have prevented her, but we were not quite sure about Kinloch, who ever since that little episode had wandered about like a distressed . lover. . —=== “One day we met Kitty in one of the lanes, and said to her, ‘How'is it you never come our way now ?’ “The girl blushed. * “ ‘Father prefers to to take up the things himself,’ she murmured; for which painfully apparent fib we instantly forgave her. “The days passed on, and Kinloch, who had before been the life of our expeditions, was now generally absent. “Where he had been was evident, for we often caught a glimpse of chestnut hair shining through the trees, or the old picturesque shawl draped over Kitty’s head and shoulders, with her round, dimpled arms appearing just below.

“Kinloch’s regiment had been ordered away to another part Of Ireland, and one morning, a few days before he was to go, we begged for his company to a picnic we had arranged to have with one or two other families. “ ‘Thanks very much,’ he said; ‘but I am afraid I shall be too busy.’ “‘Oh, but you must come!’ we all cried. ‘We coiinted upon you.’ “ ‘But I—l have so many things to do to-day,’ ; . “Here he stopped and blushed. “We girls were looking very inquisitive, and some of the men had a perceptible sneer on their faces. “‘Ho has got his lady-love to bid good-bye to, I dare say” suggested Philip Grant. "Kinloch turned on him with blazing eyes. We all kept back. They were like globes of fire. “‘Confound it, sir!’ he cried, ‘and suppose I have! what is that to you ?’ “We all looked at Philip; he was very white, but he shrugged his shoulders indifferently ami wisely foreboreto answer. “Kinloch’s temper cooled down as rapidly as it had arisen. “ ‘I am sorry to disappoint you, girls,’ he said gently, ‘but y. u will have to excuse me.’ And, bowing, ho walked off. “ ‘We watched his upright, manly figure striding along till he disappeared and then we all looked at each and sighed. “ ‘A clear cose,’ said one girl. “ ‘Head over heels.’ “ ‘What will he do ?’ “ ‘How can he marry her ?’ “ ‘Kitty can look after herself.’ “ ‘But I am sure she is in love; she noverlias been before.’ “ ‘He will go away and forget her— He gave the bridal rein a shake, —Baid, ‘Adieu! tar everyihore, My love! And adieu for evermore.’ “ ‘Never! said I; nothing of the land will happen. lam sure he will marry her.’ “That evening Kinloch made his way to the old gardener’s cottage. His face was pale but he had a determined look in the corners of his mouth, and he carried his head well thrown back and stepped lightly along. “The girl had just set her father’s supper before him, and had gone out to rest in the garden and watch the still beauties of the night. “The air was fresh, and m the heavens the full moon was through its star-spangled course. The reeds in a neighboring stream rustled and shivered in the breeze, and a large night moth or two came sailing up and bumping against Kitty’s white kerchief on their wav to the fatal candle shining in the window. “The girl looked up to. the sky and tears filled her eyes. “Was it the brightness of the moon ? ‘“Why, do you weep, Kitty ? said a voice at her side. “No need to turn to look for the speaker! The girl buried her face in her hands and sobbed afresh. ‘“You are going away ?’ she said. “ ‘Yes, I am going away,’ said Kinloch ; ‘but you will come with me, Kitty. for you love me.’ —— “‘I love you, but I shall not accompany you.’ “ ‘But you must. I have spoken to the old priest and he is ready to many us.’ . • “ ‘Kinloch,’ she said, looking up into her loverV face with a sweet, serious smile, ‘yon have made me love you, for I could not help it; but you cannot make me marry you.’ “ ‘Oh, but you will, darling, won’t you, Kitty ?’ he went on, eagerly. ‘You know I can marry now, because I came of age the other day, and I have much more than my pay now. Is that what you are thinking of ?* “ ‘How could I think about that? Why will you not Kinlocli ? Your proud old father and your silver-haired, stately mother, how could they bear for one of their senate marry an Irish peasant girl ?' “ ‘You have nothing to learn from the highest lady in the land, my darling,’ he said, fondly; ‘and younger sons are not expected to marry heiresses.’ “But she shook her head resolutely. “ ‘And is this how you lightly fling away a mass happiness for life?’ “ ’A few days pain now to save you years of regret in the future.’ “The young man looked at the girl perplexed. Where could she have learned such sentiments? Where had she gained the strength to express them so freely?

I “He then said, slowly and solemnly as if taking an oath: ‘Look yonder, Kitty! That is the evening star. So surely as it will shine in the heavens five, ten, or twenty years, as surely will my 1 love remain unchanged for you. Bid me come back when you will, Kitty, and if I have breath in my r body and strength to do it I will comia’' “‘Come back in ten years, Kinloch, I will be true to you and wait till then. I will try and improve myself-—make myself more worthy of your love.’ “‘Keep as you are, Kitty—remain ,unchanged?, said the young man jealously,‘lest when I come again I shall not see in you the last look I took away with me, my life, my love!’ he murmured passionately; and kissing her sweet brow and mouth, folding her in one last embrace, he sighed and left her. “She turned to go into the cottage. A large downy moth which had been bumping against the little window sailed in before her, circled thrtee round the candle, and flew into its aHuring brightness. The candle flickered and went out; the moth dropped down with a thud upon the table, dead. “Kitty, with eyes blinded by tears anfl with shaking hands, relit, though somewhat tardily, the light. “ ‘Kitty, my girl,’ said the old man, pointing significantly to the singed insect,‘don’t be as foolish as that silly tiling. Its eyes were dazzled, and it had no strength to resist the fatal fascination.’ “ ‘Father, said the girl,’ stooping down and kissing his gray locks, ‘you may trust me.’” Here Aunt Bell stopped. “Is it interesting? Shall I go on?” “Oh, do! Did he come back?” said her niece. “Well, the years passed on, and the girl was joked and teased, and had many offers of marriage; but she was firm and- would listen to none. “At last the young fellows grew weary of their fuitless attempts at lovemaking and the greater part left her alone.

“A few, more unkind, would ask when she expected her young gentleman home, and taunted her in cutting speeches and insinuations. “Nine years went by, and then there came the battle of Waterloo, when officers and men went down in hundreds together. “Still no word from Kinloch, and Kitty’s heart, which had never failed in its lightness, her step in its speed, now sank and faltered for the first time. “Early in the next vear—in fact on New Year’s night—the officers gave a ball, and every girl and young man for miles around was invited. “Girls were in great demand, and I went down to my aunt’s house especially for that night. “I was anxious to see Kitty myself, and to find out how the years had passed over her head. “Yqu think, perhaps, 26 was rather old to be called a girl—do you Kitty ? “Well, I felt almost the same as I did when I was 16, and quite as ready to enjoy a dance or flirtation, I can as-

sure you. “Kate Daly —that was her name — went to help the ladies unshawl themselves, and to be ready with needle and thread when an unhappy damsel with torn skirt or flounce should require her assistance. “She was then 28, and the young girlish beauty had developed into the most lovely of women. Only when her face was at rest, and you caught the suspicion of an anxious heart upon it, would you have guessed her age. “She wore a pale tea-rose-tinted gown, with ruffles of lace of her own making at the neck and sleeves. “It was a wild and stormy night without, just such a one as this, but it only served to enhance the brightness and animation of the scene within. “The dancing of the high-heeled shoes and the silvery laughter rose higher than the wail of the wind, and the tinkling wine-cups drowned all sound of rain. “Suddenly there was a lull; we stopped in our dances; a chill blast seemed to have entered the room; we turned and saw a silent, dark figure standing in the doorway. “He was tall and handsome, but his large black cloak, carefiilly slung over his shoulder, was dripping with the rain and making large pools on the floor. His legs, booted and spurred, were mud up to the hips. “Just at that moment the clock struck 12, and the year 1816 was broken. Some of the more excitable girls screamed and ran behind their partners. “Was it an apparition ? Was it an ill-omen for the coming year ? “ ‘I seem to frighten you, good people. Does nobody know me ?’ “Kitty at that moment was bringing in a jug of iced claret from another door. .‘ Slie heard the voice round, trembling, with a wild cry, ‘Kinloch, Kinloch, I knew you would come back!’ And amid a crash of breaking glass—for she let the vessel slip from her hands—she bounded to his side, and then disappeared in the folds of his great cloak.” “How splendid, Aunt Bell!” said her niece, drawing a deep breath; “but if she married him then I do not see why she should not have done so before.” “Ah, but she was a wise girl, little one; she knew it would test his constancy and prove if he really loved her. A young man’s love at 21 (as she knew very well) would not be his choice at 31.” “What became of them, aunt?” “Oh, they married and traveled about a good deal, and finally both died out in India within a few months of each other. There was one son, and I believe he is in the army also. Come, Kit'y. 1 shall go to bed.’ and not wait any longer for your father.” “There is a new lieutenant coming in Mr. Perry’s place,” said her niece as she bade her goed night “The young men are not what they used to be,” sighed the old lady. “Some little whipper-snapper, FU be bound, with feet that would go in your slippers. Good night, childie!” Kitty went slowly down stairs and pondered over in her mind Hie story of the beautiful Kate Daly and the faith-

ful Kinloch. She went to the window and undid the shutter. She pictured to herself the young man coming to the window and scratching Lis name on the glass, and then taking the girl’s hand in his own, slowly guiding it just below. • She leant in the deep shadow of the window-seat and strove to realize each scene in the little drama. There, under that very door, stood the blackrobed figure they had all shrunk away from in the midst of their mirth. What ? Was she dreaming? What stood there at that very moment? A'figure darker than the gloom of the room. The rain poured in floods outside, and the wind whistled and moaned around the corners of the house. The«figure came a little further into the room. She saw, by the misty light, he was a tall man with a dark cloak over his shoulder, booted and spurred, with mud up to his hips. She felt as if the whole scene was to be played again before her very eyes; but she looked in vain for the pretty girls and ladies in their puffed sleeves and short waists, their flowing curls and high-heeled shoes. Kitty—where was she? "■ And here she blushed to herself in the darkness. There was a Kitty; but not the one. The,man came up to the window, evidently thinking no one was in the room. The girl shrank back as the wet cloak brushed against her check. “Kinloch!” she said, half doubting whether the figure would answer, for she could hardly tell yet if she was .dreaming or no. “Who spoke my name?” he called out, startled and looking around. “I did," said Kitty, feeling very abashed, almost at his elbow. He glanced down, drawing away his cloak. “lam sure I beg your pardon—thought the room was empty. I must have come into the wrong quarters; arriving so late I must have mistaken the block. I hope you will forgive such an intrusion?” Kitty’s grand castles in the air all fell to the ground with a crash. How commonplace! He was only the new lieutenant, after all; >but he did not looWhe whipper-snapper her aunt had prophesied. “Then you are not Kinloch?” she said, in a disappointed tone. “My name is Kinloch,” he answered, with a pleasant smile. “My aunt was tilling me about this Kinloch.” And Kitty tapped the frame with her finger. “I will tell you the story some day, if you like; but you came into the room just as Sjhe said your namesake did, dressed in the same way and everything. But, there! I suppose you are not ewn a relation.” “He was my father, said the yourg man, quietly. “So no wonder we are something alike.” It was now his turn to say, in a disappointed tone, “But your name is not Kitty, 1 am sure." “Yes, it is,” said Kitty, eagerly. Then she stopped; a sudden rosy flush rushed over her face. “At least, no —it is" But she could not deny it, for it was Kitty. “These are our namesakes ; shall we write our names below them, Kitty ?” “Some day, perhaps.”