Seven Hills High School - Yearbook (Cincinnati, OH)

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4'You know ever since father died and Nigel became head of the house, I knew l had to gofi 4'And now the time has come, you feel you can,t,7' said the quiet voice, putting into words the source of all his misery. Looking at her with a queer sense of shame, Robert answered in a low voice. '6Yes, that is it, somehow my whole life is wrapped up in Windy Hill, in Ireland. I seem to have just realized that all the things I know are connected with itf, An even voice from the dusk beyond the firelight, prompted him with the very words his reason had so often spoken to him. uOthers have done itfi Losing her calm untroubled manner, his mother suddenly became intense. Leaning toward him she spoke with fierceness. Hlreland's decadent, old, our family, others, all around us are people who are leaving, people who have been here longer than we. You go to this new country and make your- self another Windy Hill. Carry our name and traditions into a new land, and when you've settled I'll come and help you live, for I love you best of all my sonsf' The last delivered with a sudden departure from her fierce manner, with a gentleness seldom displayed to her sons, silenced and de- lighted the young man. He could only look at her with joy in his eyes. Finally he ventured, uBut what of the others and our home here?,, His mother smiled ruefully and said. 4'Our house won't stand long now. Since your father died, I've known that, your brothers even now are begin- ning to split up. But you are my son, you've my temperament, hot headed and intolerant of discipline. You could never spend your life here, ruled by a brother. As you grew older you would always blame me for not mak- ing you go. America is drawing men such as you from all over the world, adventurous, enterprising men who are seizing the opportunities that such a wild, free land has to off er and making themselves rich. You will be the one to carry the honor of the family into foreign places. Do you see now what you can be? Will you go?', She had made him at last come face to face with the decision he must make, and slowly, but surely she was drawing from him the answer that they both knew to be the best. He knew that he had to say yes. He knew how hard it would be. Perhaps it would prove too hard, but he stood up smil- ing, and pulling his mother to her feet he said, HI'll go and be a success, but you,re coming to help me live and make a new Windy Hillf' With perfect understanding his mother smiled up at him, yet she knew the agony of feeling he was going through and was full of pity. A peasant toiled up the steep road which led to Windy Hill, panting he W mm, 193 9 l54l

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HIGH SCHOOL PRIZE STORY Windy Hill Standing in the dim old hallway, Robert F arquharson, a tall, heavily built, dark young man, suddenly knew, with sickening certainty, what had caused the turmoil that lately so dominated his usually high spirits. With a clutch- ing fear he realized what had made him wander through dark, bleak halls to the door before him. The Farquharson family, an old and formerly wealthy one, living in the north of Ireland, had known for some time that their youngest son had . Hisli'rrot-hers felt that this younger man, of an uncertain temperament and a large amount of determination, would make himself, if allowed, a discordant note in their midst. Hence his approaching departure was viewed by them, with an air of calm complacency. But standing with the cold air from the window chilling his back, and listening to the ceaseless rushing of the wind around the rugged old corners of Windy Hill, this youngest son of the Farquharson clan, felt a passion of love, and kinship for his home that for the moment crowded out the fears and doubts that rushed through his troubled mind. He saw with amazing clarity why he had been afraid to leave this land, this house, these brothers. They were all a part of his individuality. Strong as he was, he could not throw them aside and step forth unchanged into a new life. With an im- petuous motion he pushed open the door and walked, with a defiant air into the room beyond. A small bright eyed woman smiled up at him, and motioned to a chair by the fire. ul wondered how long you and your haverings would go on outside my door, she said. This small, quick woman had the power to make any of her numerous sons ill at ease by her shrewd perception, and rather uncomfortable wit. Robert, no exception, moved restively in his chair and finally pulled himself together for the effort he was about to make. Clearing his throat, he proceeded: HlVlother I have been meaning to talk to you about going awayf' Here he looked up to see what effect his statement had had, and was rather pained to see that she kept a steady, calm countenance. He faltered and went on. Wiafm, 193 Q I53I

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stopped, brushed the sweat from his Horid face and gazed at the sprawling old house on its green hill. Its quiet strength must have awakened to the mind of the man many of the bitter stories of lrelandls numerous woes. To him it suggested all the incidents that comprised lreland's long and tur- bulent existence. Things that would never be tales to him, but always .a history of his country written in the blood of his fathers. Suddenly he looked old and bitter. Drawing himself up he toiled on up the uneven path, cursing the English with a tired vehemence under his breath. Young Robert Farquharson coming down the same path, turned on his horse for the last time, and resolutely settled down in the saddle. The peasant greeted the young master and thought irreverently how young he looked to enough for the likes of him, so why should the gentry be after leaving it? Strange to say, the same thought was running through the head of the young- est Farquharson, as he and the horse moved with an easy rhythm down the familiar path. A PART II The evening quiet was suddenly broken by the dull thuds of an approach- ing horse. A melee of bays went up from a pack of welcoming hounds who were stationed on the long verandahs. And up the long avenue of dark old trees a man came, urging his weary horse into a final burst of speed. As he slid down stiHiy from the saddle, he noted for the first time, the house at which he had arrived. His mud-bespattered, weary face lit up with an in- credulous smile and he hastened his steps toward the open door from which lights, voices and the smell of venison issued. To the homesick Southerner, this white plantation house in the 1806 wilds of the North, seemed a gift from God, raised for his special benefit. As he stepped from a pool of light, which lay on the flagged porch, he seemed instantly absorbed by the scene which lay beyond. In the enormous cold hall he hesitated, he had abruptly come face to face with the Master of the house. The man stood with his hat in his hand and addressed the formidable member of the family. '6Pardon me, but I'd like to inquire the way to the nearest innf, Robert Farquharson, now a man forty or thereabout, looked at him with calm surprise. Turning toward the dining hall he called out, 6'Make a place for the stranger. Sir, he added, Hthere are no inns in this part of the countryf' Thanking him profusely, the Southerner made his way to the seat assigned Wdtfone, 193 9 l55l