SHOWS HOW THE CROSS AND SHAMROCK WERE PERMANENTLY UNITED AFTER A LONG
SEPARATION.
Paul O'Clery had been appointed pastor of one of the principal churches
in the second city in the Union, as we have before mentioned, and
already the evidences of the "care of souls" with which he was charged
for several years began to manifest themselves on his placid brow. His
was a life of unceasing activity. The visitations of the sick, the calls
of charity, the hearing of confessions, together with the instruction of
youth and the preaching of God's word,--these, the ordinary lot of
pastors, constituted but a share, and not the largest one, of his
onerous duties. Ever mindful of his own destitute condition while an
orphan deprived of both parents, all the orphans of the
thickly-inhabited district that constituted his mission became objects
of his special care. And at a time when such an institution as a
Catholic orphanage was regarded as visionary, or the ephemeral creation
of a too ardent zeal, this good pastor succeeded in founding and
supporting an asylum which has since become of incalculable value, not
only to the Catholics as a body, but to the inhabitants of the whole
city and state. A house of refuge for repentant Magdalens, placed under
the care of the Sisters of Mercy, commanded his next care. In a word,
the founding of schools, hospitals, confraternities, guilds, and other
pious institutions exercised all of his time that was not devoted to
his strictly ecclesiastical duties; so that his sister Bridget, known in
religion as Sister St. John of the Cross, complained a good deal of his
want of charity in not having visited her but once in seven years. "Ad
majorem Dei gloriam,"--"To the greater glory of God,"--was this pious
Levite's motto; and he was dead to all the ties of flesh and blood, and
heedless of all calls save those of charity to his God and his neighbor.
In the pulpit, the spontaneous eloquence of his heart chained the
attention of his hearers; and his discourses, though rather inclined to
asceticism than controversial, went to the hearts, and convinced the
understandings, of unbelievers of the divinity of the doctrine he
preached. No class of his fellow-creatures was excluded from the
influence of his boundless zeal. Protestants--to whom he was very mild,
on account of his knowledge of the ignorant prejudices in which they are
bound by the malice of their teachers--heard him, and became converts to
the church of God. Even the neglected negro race claimed and received a
full measure of his zeal. He established a school for the children of
these neglected sons of Africa, and never lost an opportunity of
visiting them at the death bed or in the hour of serious sickness.
It was on occasion of one of these visits that God rewarded his priest,
even in this world, by the joyous disclosure which we here record, and
which, next to his grace of vocation to the priesthood, of all the
manifestations of God's mercy to him, claimed his sincerest gratitude
and thanksgiving. After the end of the grand "birthday banquet," which
lasted for a day and two nights, Alia's position at the palace became
more disagreeable than ever. The young girls frowned on her and shunned
her society, and Madame Goldrich, after she had got over the fatigue of
the party, read her a smart lesson on her "ill manners and Irish
temper," because she dared to absent herself, to the disappointment of
the guests, from a table at which she was denied her proper and usual
place. "Alia, this conduct of yours must be reformed, and that quick, or
your separation from this family, to which you do not belong, must soon
take place. I ain't goin' to let you take precedence of my children no
longer."
To this vulgar speech of the "princess, our hostess," as she was
flatteringly toasted by a John Bull guest who was there, Alia answered
not a word, but, having retired to her room, fell on her knees and
prayed long and fervently to the God of her fathers to assist her by his
inspirations, and direct her to the best, in her present perplexity.
Having unburdened her bosom of a load of grief by a copious effusion of
tears, and felt in her spirit that calm resignation which a sense of its
own forlorn condition and a total reliance on God are calculated to
inspire even in the unregenerate and imperfect soul, Alia now proceeded
to the chamber of old Judy, whose expected illness had at last arrived,
having been ill now for three days. On perceiving her entrance into the
room, the old negress appealed to her in most supplicating terms to
fulfil her promise to send for "de priest, for now de hour am come. O
Ali', angel, dear," she cried, "do not let me die without the 'bon
Dieu,' or I lost foreber. O, haste! O, haste!"
Alia lost no time, but, taking pen and paper, wrote as follows to the
bishop of the diocese:--
"The Right Rev. Catholic bishop is respectfully informed that there is a
negro woman lying dangerously ill at Mr. Goldrich's, who, being a
Catholic, desires the last rites of that church. Being a native of St.
Domingo, the French is her vernacular tongue; for which cause it will be
desirable, if possible, to send, a clergyman who can speak that
language."
A young negro lad was the bearer of this despatch, and he returned in
less than an hour, attended by Rev. Paul O'Clery, whom the bishop sent
to answer this urgent call, all those of the episcopal residence having
been out since early morning attending on the sick in their respective
localities. In order to avoid any further cause of displeasure to Mrs.
Goldrich, Alia had given the negro lad instructions to bring the priest
in through a private door that communicated with the garden, rather than
attract attention by entering the hall door. She had a full view of the
countenance of the young priest, through the window, while he was
crossing that part of the garden that lay next the houses of the city,
and, strange! her heart throbbed, and an indescribable sensation passed
over her frame.
"How happy," she thought, "must be the sister of such a gentleman as
that! how different her lot from mine!"
The priest entered, and was received with a very polite bow by Alia,
which was returned profoundly. Declining to take a seat, on account of
his many other urgent calls, he was escorted to old Judy's chamber by
his fair guide, who, on the way thither, explained to him what sort of a
person she was, and how odd in her notions about religion. Having
conducted him to her bedside, she made a polite bow, and retired, asking
if her services were further needed.
The priest answered, "No; that he believed all the requirements for this
holy but melancholy service were prepared, and that he supposed he had
to thank her for the nice arrangements he observed."
"Yes, mon pere," said old Judy, in half French, half English, "there is
the '_chandel_,' the '_eau-benite_,' the '_la croix_,' and the rest,
that I keep many year for my deathday."
It was only when she retired from the chamber that the priest caught a
full view of the fair Alia; and now
"A strange emotion worked within him, more
Than mere compassion ever worked before."
He saw in this interesting stranger the strongest resemblance to his own
sister Bridget. There were the same raven hair, the same candid and
large eyes, the same broad and well-set teeth so peculiar to the
O'Clerys, and the same form almost to a line. The groans and urgent call
of his penitent Judy, however, soon recalled his mind from its reveries,
and he banished all thoughts of Alia, as temptations, or, at least,
speculations, which it was for the present useless to entertain. He put
on his stole, and after a short aspiration for light and grace to
discharge his duty to the sick woman, was just in the act of repeating
the prayer, "_Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis_,"--"May the Lord be
in your heart and lips,"--when the creature, raising herself up in her
bed, prevented him, saying, "Mon pere, I vant, before I begin the
confession, to tell you a secret that burden my mind long time."
She then proceeded to tell how that young lady he had just seen had been
adopted, or rather kidnapped, by the family she now lived with; how her
name was changed from Aloysia to Alia; how this scheme was planned and
carried out by Miss Sillerman, Mrs. Goldrich's sister, who died not long
since; how, till of late, she was brought up as one of the family; how
carefully she was instructed in all the ways of the Presbyterians; and,
above all, how they endeavored to conceal her family name, for fear of
being claimed by her friends. "But, mon pere," said she, in
continuation, "though I forget the family name of this young, lubly
lady, I have an article here (loosing an old-fashioned workbag) which
may tell her family name."
With that she handed Father Paul a neat ruby necklace, with a rather
heavy gold clasp, on which were carved deeply a cross, interwoven with
shamrocks, with these words, in italics, "_The O'C---- Arms_." This was
enough for Paul O'Clery; he had no doubt of having seen and conversed
with his own dear, long-lost sister, a few moments before. He sunk down
on his knees, buried his face in his hands, and tried as well as he
could to suppress the emotions that pervaded his bosom. After having
prepared old Judy for heaven,--having first prevailed on her to make
these disclosures in presence of witnesses, on condition that the
circumstances of her revelation should not be published till after her
death,--the priest retired from that palace, promising to call again,
accompanied with another gentleman, in the afternoon. Lest his feelings
should betray him, he retired from the house with as little delay as was
consistent with politeness; and he trembled all over as he a second time
returned the greeting of his dear Aloysia, as she conducted him to the
door.
With as little delay as possible, he sought the office of his legal
adviser, and, accompanied by a judge of the Supreme Court of eminent
character, and the legal adviser, and a third, all Protestant gentlemen,
he sought the sick chamber of the old negress again, and there her
deposition, and a confirmation of her previous account of Alia's
bringing up and captivity, were obtained. They had scarcely concluded
her testimony, when poor Judy bid farewell to the world and its crosses,
and the priest had the satisfaction of bidding God speed to her soul in
its passage to eternity, having read for her the last benediction a
second time.
The presence of so many strangers in the house naturally created some
surprise among the inmates, and shortly the death chamber of Judy was
filled with the members of the family, of both sexes.
An explanation of this unusual and unauthorized proceeding was demanded
by Mrs. Goldrich, which the eminent judge consented to give, provided an
_adjournment_ to a more appropriate court was agreed to.
His honor was in the act of unravelling the mysterious but
well-connected development of old Judy--a work of supererogation on his
part, as far as madam was concerned--when the fair-faced Alia herself
made her appearance; and her reverend brother Paul, no longer able to
check his feelings, sprang forward, and, seizing her white hand, kissed
it, saying, "My dearest sister Aloysia, welcome to the embrace of your
brother! 'You were lost, and I have found you; you were dead, and are
again come to life! Rejoice, and be glad.'"
This was too much happiness for Alia to bear up against without
momentarily yielding to the shock, and she sank, as if lifeless, on a
couch. She was soon restored, however, and surrounded by the seemingly
affectionate caresses of her envious _mother_ and jealous sisters. She
had to hear all their arguments to persuade her to prefer her present
splendid misery to the equivocal boon of having found out a poor,
destitute brother, though it was not yet clear whether she could call
him by that name. Appearances were deceitful.
Father Paul listened meekly to the smooth discourses and flattering
promises of the rich lady and her children, not doubting, if she were an
O'Clery, which side she would choose.
"You are young, my dear Aloysia, but yet at or near the age of mature
understanding; and I know a brother cannot command you as a parent could
in this 'free country.' You have your choice--the traditional glory of
the old family of O'Clery, two brothers, and a sister as fair as
yourself, together with the old faith of St. Patrick,--the glorious
CROSS and the immortal SHAMROCK,--all these balanced against this grand
palace, probably great earthly comforts, and a religion that 'is not fit
for a gentleman.' Have your choice; choose boldly, and at once, and free
your brother from suspense."
"Are you my brother?" she said, wildly, "or do I dream? Have I a brother
on earth, and one so worthy as thou? O, I have no second choice," she
cried, falling at his feet, and wetting them with her tears.
"Plant this Cross in my bosom,
And this Shamrock in my hair;
And these are the only ornaments
I ever again shall wear."
The spirited girl prepared immediately to quit the splendid palace, and
she came to the resolution of taking nothing with her, either of dress,
or trinkets, or jewelry. "Naked and bare I came into this family, and
with one single dress shall I leave it," said she, "feeling sufficiently
enriched in what I have this day found--a brother, with the Cross and
Shamrock of the O'Clerys. O, what complete changes! Instead of Alia, I
am Aloysia; instead of Goldrich, I am O'Clery."
Paul did not think it prudent to allow his sister to quit the house of
her rich patrons so quickly, especially as Mr. Goldrich was from home,
and till the public should be satisfied, and all doubts about her
identity resolved. There was some opposition made by the parsons, one of
whom, a Mr. Cashman, was long fishing for the fair hand of Aloysia; but
this little dust raised by the "white necks" was soon hushed, when the
record of the baptism of Miss O'Clery was produced, and when the book of
heraldry was consulted to verify the armorial bearings of the O'Clerys,
which were, as we said, carved on the clasp of her necklace; and, above
all, when, on the left-hand ring finger of the young lady, the same
impression of a ring appeared which several persons testified having
seen on it when an infant.