The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1841-11-16
H fseellameous.
From the Neio Yorker.
THE MAD GIRLS TALE.
tangled and harsh,
Like sweet bells out Of tune"

tangled and harsh
Like sweet bells out Of tune"
Night! night the lonely, the intense how
long il seems 10 me /! and he has not come vet
as he has promised, with his low, silvery voice,
to while away these heavy, tedious hours. They
say, too, that he will not come, hear their
knocking tones they talk of the deep sea-
and whisper all around that | killed him; /,
who would have died for one look OF his =
That pale girl too, why does she put her face
close to mine and whisper that he will never
come again What reck | of this | know
that he is dead; know that in the long nights,
before came here, used to press my hand to
my burning forehead, and shed hot, bitter tears.
II all comes back to me as | sit here in silence,
waiting for his voice
How proud used to be when walked
about with others in the brave, beautiful world,
and laughed scornfuy at those who came TO
do me homage. How like queen felt when
looked on all the old pictures in my fathers
hall. that they called SO lovely, and knew that
there was not one of them with a face or form
like mine. My father too, he never comes
here now: but a smile used TO steal all over
his broad high forehead, when told him
would never leave him for any of those who did
homage to me then, that my lover must have
proud name and noble mansion, and broad
lands, to win me for his bride. Poor fool!
thought he loved me then, but | know better
now. know while sit here in darkness, the
light streams merrily up from the windows Of
my old home, and my younger sister, all gaily
dressed, throws her white arms over the harp,
and sings all the old songs that used to sing
while the bright crowds meet together there
never think OF the poor mad girl who sat in that
very place, and sang all those songs once
long time ago.
Ies, II must be loss of time. | cannot re-
member every thing now but | know that,
proud as l was, there came at last a voice
softer than gliding waters TO my ear, and form
on which loved to gaze. He never called me
beautiful-never said he loved me but at last
he seemed to feel it, and would come and stand
by my side, scarcely speaking, while knew his
eyes were on me, and dared not look up to meet
them, till something whispered me that he
know my secret, and then looked up as proudly
as ever, till his lip cured and his voice grew
cold, and he walked from my side in anger But
what was that to mel Was his proud name,
or broad lands, or noble mansion? Oh no, |
tried to forget him; and though the red blush
was on my forehead when we met, | looked al
him no more.
After that there came fair girl with him.
They said she was his cousin and | saw her
hanging upon his arm, and watched her color
come and go in his presence | knew she
loved him then, and envied her, for she saw
him always | hated her too, for he never frown-
ed when he looked upon her face
Al last fell SICK very sick, and they darken-
ed my chamber, and the leech came and bent
over my couch; but he started when he felt my
pulse. What were all his drugs to me2 Yet
he talked learnedly and well, and kept nv Sc
cret and said nothing, all those long dreary
hours, for knew if | once spoke, they would
discover the whole.
But grew tired OF the darkness and the con-
suatlon, and the WEAKNESS of those DAYS. |
felt could lie on that couch no longer, with the
fever preying at my heart and rose up and
said that | was better. The physicians con-
frmed my statement when they saw the color
come back to my cheek, and the brightness TO
my eye. So went into the world once more
and danced, and talked and laughed more gaily
than ever
Was he not there2 Was it not his voice
that thrilled upon my ear that night, when
turned in the dance and saw him by my side
Oh! the brave spirit that had upheld me so
long, left my heart then: | tainted in his arms
Whose lips smiled tenderly then as he pressed
me TO his heart and called me his2 knew
that he loved me after that, and | feared his
cousin no more; ay, il is true, he did leave them
all for me, giving up his mothers look and
his sisters smie," and breaking the heart Of
that fair, pale cousin he did leave the home of
his childhood and go 10 India, there TO gather
the yellow gold with which to crafty the base
pride of her who had so tempted h M
cannot think of this, cannot speak of this,
for they mock me, those PALE envious spectres,
when say that for my sake he did this, and
never came back again that ! killed him,
who thought only Of him, and in the still dark
ness, and in the torturing night-watches, prayed
but for one look more, though the dead might
rise to answer me. And what came at my APP
peal His mothers face Az with cold
reproachful glance, as if she would have cursed
the destroyer of her son. | could not bear it.
could not bear it, her brow was so like his
and it followed me every where-at midnight, at
MONDAY, those features cleaned on me the
same. Do you wonder that raved then ?
The pale girl, too, they told me strange tales
of her. They told me that her step had grown
feeble and her eye dull, since his death-but
what right had she7 They said something
else-ihey said that her only consolation was a
little picture of her cousin that he had given her
in former days. They told me all this and left
me, and never knew why my lips compressed
and the blood left my cheek as they talked OF
the love-token of his early days.
| My sorrow was hidden then and my malady
worked inwardly. Thatnight could not sleep,
the portrait haunted me. Why should she fold
his likeness TO her bosom, when |, whom he