The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1839-10-09

| As yet she was too young 10 see all the
dreariness Of the desolation around her; but
she was indeed an orphan in the most cruel
meaning of the word. Her mother had pre-
served mystery over her sorrows and the
circumstances of her life, which Mrs. Doug
las had never endeavored 10 penetrate. And
now she was left to be as mother 10 the
helpless child for she knew not if she had
another friend and all that she heard Of the
mothers history, was recorded on the hum
BILE stone which she placed over her grave
"Hsre reststh the body Of Isabella Morton,
,oidow af Capt. Morton, she died amongst as a
stranger, bur b6loued" The whole property
to which the fair orphan became heir by the
death of her mother, did not amount to fifty
pounds; and amongst the property no docu-
ment was found which could throw any light
upon who were her relatives. or if she had any.
But the heart Of Mrs. Douglas had already
adopted her as daughter and circum-
scribed as her circumstances were, she trust
ed that He who provided food for the very
birds Of heaven, would provide the orphans
morsel.
Years rolled on,and Elizabeth Morton grew
| in stature and in beauty, the pride Of her pro-
tector, and the Joy of her age. But the in
hrmities of years grew upon her foster mother,
and, disabling her from following her habits
OF industry, stern want entered her happy cot
tage. Still Elizabeth appeared only as thing
| OF joy, contentment and gratitude !; and often
did her evening song beguile her aged friends
| sigh into smile. And TO better their hard
| lot she hired herself to watch few sheep
upon the neighboring hills, to the steward Of
gentleman named Sommerville, who about
the time of her mothers death, had purchased
the estate Of Thorndean. He was but little
beloved, for he was but hard master, and
bad husband /; and more than once he had
been seen at the hour of midnight, in the 81
lent churchyard, standing over the grave Of
Mrs. Morton. This gave rise to not few
| whisperings respecting the birth Of poor Eliza
beth. He had no children, and nephew who
resided in his house, was understood to be his
heir.
William Sommeryile was about year
older than our fair orphan; and ever as he
could escape the eye Of his uncle, he would
fly tn the village to seek out Elizabeth as
playmate. And now, while she tended the
few sheep, he would steal round the hills, and
placing himself by her side, teach her the les
sons he had that day been taught, while his
arm in innocence rested on her neck, their
glowing cheeks touching each other, and her
golden curls played around them. Often were
their peaceful lessons broken by the harsh
voice and the blows Of his uncle. But still
William stole TO the presence Of his playmate
and pupil, until he had completed his four
teenth year; when he was TO leave Thorn
dean preparatory to entering the army. He
was permitted to take hasty farewell of the
villagers, for they all loved the boy but he
went only to the cottage Of Mrs. Douglas
As he entered, Elizabeth wept, and he also
burst into tears. Their aged friend beheld
the warnings Of young passion that might
terminate in sorrow, and taking his hand she
prayed God to prosper him, and babe him
farewell. She was leading him to the door,
when Elizabeth raised her fearful eyes he
beheld them, and their meaning and eaping
forward, threw his arms round her neck, and
printed the first kiss on her forehead g Do
not forget me, Elizabeth" he cried, and hur-
ried from the house.
Seven years from this period passed away.
The lovely girl was now transformed into the
elegant woman, in the summer majesty of her
beauty. For four years Elizabeth had kept
school in the village, to which her gentleness
and winning manners drew prosperity and
her gray haired benefactress enjoyed the re-
ward of her benevoence. Preparations were
making at Thorndean Hall for the reception
Of William, who was now returning as Lieu
tenant Sommervile. A post chaise in the
village had then become sight less rare but
several cottagers were assembled before the
inn to welcome the young laird. He arrived,
and with him gentleman between forty and
Elt to,, hol .t,,
acquainted as travelling companions and the
stranger being on his way northward, had ac-
cepted his invitation to rest at his uncle's for
a few days. The footpath to the Hall lay
through the churchyard, and about quarter
OF mile from the village. Ii was a seclud-
ed path, and Elizabeth was wont to retire to
it between school hours, and frequently to
spend few moments in silent meditation
over her mothers grave. She was gazing
upon it when voice arrested her attention,
saying" Elizabeth-Miss Morton y The |
speaker was Lieut. Sommervile, accompa-
MED by his friend. To the meeting Of the
young lovers we shall add nothing. But the
elder stranger gazed on her face and trem-
bled, and looked on her mothers grave and
wept. Lady w-he exclaimed, "pardon
miserable man--whal was the name Of your
mother who the family Of your father p
Answer me, implore you" 8 Alas | know
neither" said the wondering and now unhap-
py Elizabeth. My name is Norton" cried
the stranger, :" had wife--I had a daugh-
ter once, and my Isabella's face was thy facet"
While he yet spoke, the elder Sommerylle
drew near to meet his nephew. His eyes and
the strangers met. Somerville" exclaimed
the stranger, starting. :. The same," replied
the other, his brow backening like thunder,
while trembling passed over his body. He
rudely grasped the arm Of his nephew, and
dragged him away. The interesting stranger
accompanied Elizabeth to the house Of Mrs. |
II Il 4 =. IL