Legends and Memories of St John's Chapel -
Addressed to R. A. Riddick
by Major John W. Moore 

Part XXIII  - published in the Windsor Ledger Nov  30, 1899

 It so happened, in her grief
She one day in Windsor town,
There met, that former lover,
And she fell into a swoon,
So sudden was this, their meeting,
And so unexpected, all,
That the maiden heavy laden
Had not time, for her to call, 
Her soul, to arm itself, and bear,
So great a joy, in her dispair.

He clasped her, in loving arms,
Ere unto the earth, she fell,
And soon she came unto herself,
And she heard him softly tell
Of how he loved her, still as deeply
As he did in days of yore,
And he saw, her soft cheeks blooming,
As they always had, before
The coming of that fearful man,
Who marred her life, to suit his plan.

Gerald Howe, was as noble
As his mistress, then was fair,
And the lofty ideals
Of his young life, were so rare
That fair Mary, deep regretted
That obstacles, should arise,
And against her dearest wishes,
Seperate their destinies.
Now he, was once again returned,
The fires of love, the brighter burned.

No one had seen their meeting,
Nor her agitation then,
When she came so near falling,
Like some abdicated queen,
Then she told him, all the story
Of her troubles, out at home,
Of the sad, and monstrous changes,
Which upon her sire, had come,
And all the wicked, strangely vile
Schemes, against his own helpless child.

He had met the man abroad,
And he knew him, through and through,
All his skill and villany,
Were to Gerald nothing new;
So he told fair Mary that she
Might, in future, be content;
He would show her very shortly
How this schemer would be sent
To other scenes to vaunt his power,
Bertie would lose him from her shore.

A week later Gerald met
A small party of his friends,
Special chums who had ever
Aided all his aims and ends;
It so happened that the Doctor
Came along about that time
Hearing with them, sweetest music
Blending with delicious chime,
Then uninvited he came in,
Committing so a social sin.

Scornful of conventions law,
He despised its every fetter,
Trampling on all rule of right
In its whole scope and letter,
He would bend mankind and nature
To the shape that he preferred,
Careless of whose toes, he trod on,
Or the bee-hive, this disturbed.
One of those anarchists, who prey
On all, that comes within their way.

He like others of the breed
Had no faith in God or man;
Spewing cut his unbelief
In our blessed creed, and plan.
But like all such unfaithful souls
Truly brave, he was never
When darkness came, with gloomy pall,
Then would he shrink and shiver,
And dream, of apparitions dread,
Of those long numbered with the dead.

So without invitation,
He had come upon a crowd,
Who had for weeks been watching
This same doctor, vain and proud,
To learn the truth of some rumors
Touching his affairs of heart;
What he did, on the plantation,
As from thence they had their start.
That he so ruled, and over-awed
The old man, bound as with a cord.

Such dark murmurs there had been,
And the maiden's paling cheek,
Seemed to them confirmation,
Of the things she would not speak;
They were telling Gerald of them,
When the Doctor came upon
This coterie, discussing low
The duties they felt resting on
The friends and neighbors of a man
Thus duped by a vile charlatan.

Of course, the whole discussion
Died upon the man's approach,
For other subjects, now they felt,
They could far more safely broach,
And so they sat and talked and drank,
Until midnight long had gone,
And many topics weird and strange,
On the tapis, there was bourne
Wild stories of the ages past
That make the boldest feel aghast.

Gerald watched the Doctor close,
And he saw his face grow pale,
As the stories wilder grew,
Especially when a tale,
Of low malignant practices,
Pursued against a trusting soul,
Was told, and ere denudement reached
This man who had come in so bold
Was plainly in such sorry plight,
He could hear no more talk that night.

Gerald Howe, and the maiden
Had well settled in their minds,
On the happy day they met,
As to how low the deep designs,
Could be paried without hunting,
The fond loving heart of him
Whose lamp of life, only flickered
In its socket low and dim.
How she his wishes, countervailing,
Should show him still a love unfailing.

She had told him all the tale
Of her father over-awed
By some power, superhuman,
Hung on every look and word
Of this Doctor, who had gazed him,
And now held him at his will;
Told him, how her father practiced
To proceed yet further still,
To poison all her future life,
By forcing her to be his wife.

Many times had she already
Told him, it could not be;
Yet he was still not content;
But her father, constantly
Was dominating, so that he,
Far from being what of old,
Ever had been his kind habit,
Now would sometimes almost scold
Her becuase she would not do
The thing he always dreaded so.

Why should he trust this stranger,
More than all her suitors old,
Who for years their love, vainly
Had unto herself been told
She shuddered at the horrid thought,
That would come into her mind,
That this second Cagliostro
Was not merely human kind,
But some devilish, vagrant elf,
To bring perdition on herself.

Gerald tried to reassure her,
Told her, of his deathless love,
How he cherished her image,
When far away did rove
And that now, he would assure her,
Ere a fleeting month was gone,
She, with this unwelcomed doctor
Would soon be forever done,
If she only would but trust him,
And in better spirit seem.

On the evening, after that
Of the party afore said,
This doctor on his visit
Found, his patient at last dead.
There he supped in lonely state,
And talking, with the overseer,
Weeping Mary, kept her room,
And he thus could not see her.
With the housekeeper long he chatted
So twas late when off he started.