Boon's Lick times. [volume] (Fayette, Mo.) 1840-1848, 1842-03-05

start, as he struck his hand upon his brow
"why that blush that agitation Deceive
me not, Eliza, you are not supposing g
case. This has already happened. SCI
it all. He has selected bridegroom"
The maid sank her head upon his bosom
and through her struggling tears she sob
bed
"Quintin, thou hast said it,"
Desperate was the conflict in the bosom
of the youth as he sat like one in trance
his eyes fixed on hers, which, like the sun
breaking through the clouds of the passing
storm, cleaned from under their dripping
lashes, and soon he dreamed he saw the
rainbow Of hope.
"Who is my rivall" he asked with a
voice scarce audible.
"Van Deg" she answered sorrowfully.
"Do you love him, Eliza"
How can you ask"
"NVill you marry him."
"My fathers happiness is dearer to me
than my own. Think you | would wan
tonly sacrifice it,"
But why Van Deg"
Because he excels in my fathers art"
"Alas !" cried the despairing lover; "why
had not been painter"
The bed Of Quintin was one of thorns
as he threw himself on it and yielded to his
agony of thought.
How vain, yet how ardently had he
loved; how industriously had he labored to
procure her attachment, and Just when he
had achieved the victory over her confding
heart, all that he struggled for was lost
no, not lost-he could bear the thoughts OF
her death, he could weep over her grave
he could nurse the vegetation above it-bui
to think that the prize must be torn from
him to be given to another's elrshrtce, there
was madness in it.
And then Van Deg, that rough, naughty
distant man, how unworthy he to possess
jewel Of such value, how unfit to nurture
such tender plant, how unsuitable his I'M
social spirit for the angel who needed some
congenial soul to ensure her felicity.
"Will she not droop, wither, die in the
cold atmosphere about him." he asked him
self, when at length exhausted nature
yielded to WEAKNESS, and he fell asleep.
The mind, though, yielded not to the
fatigue of the body; on the contrary, it
seemed more filed with life. He imagined
himself in the street. The bells rang, the
people shouted, and gay equipages passed
by. 1t was a day Of public rejoicing, for
Eliza, the daughter of AIgini, was to wed
Van Deg: the nations favorite, the cele
brated painter. People recounted the
scenes he had delineated, and lauded the
artist to the skies. All this grated on the
mind of the dreamer, but he trembled and
the cold perspiration gathered on his fore
head as the nuptlal cavalcadc approached
they halted at the chapel, and the groom
conducted the bride, all pale and tremb-
ling, to the altar; he looked up the aisle,
when, as the father was about giving his
love away, he rushed up and seized her;
she shrieked and fell dead in his embrace;
her relations and the priest all gazed in
horror; he raised his eyes, saw the misery
in their countenances, and as his face fell
upon the bosom of his lovely burden, he
Iexpircd--and at that moment awoke. Still
the forms were before his eyes, fresh in
his recollection as if he had beheld the
awful scene by the noon-day sun. In
PEELED by an unaccountable impulse, he
arose and lighted his lamp, and taking coal
from the extinguished embcrs in his CHM
ney, he commenced the portraiturc Of the
group upon the wall; as he drew each face,
each lineament, he recoilcd in surprise as
their perfect resemblance to the individuals
became more and more impressed upon
him. AS he concluded the outline, he be-
held in a faithful transfer of his dream,
wanting nothing but the variety Of color.
A thousand thoughts darted through his
brain: he was wild and wandering; he
threw himself on his bed, and when he
next awoke the rays of the risen sun gilded
his apartment.
His first object was to seek the mural
picture, and he trembled lest it had all been
dream: but there it stood, as if executed
by magic power.
"If this is the result Of an effort with char
coal" cried he, striking his breast in a de-
lirium of Joy, "what might not effect with
other means3 What might be my re-
ward"
As daylight sought its slumbers in the bo-
som of night, the lovers were again togeth-
| cr.
Il am doing wrong" murmured Eliza,
Sin meeting you again. since | am an atlian-
ced bride. This night must be our last
1t is sad thing to part with those we love;
yet act as virtue dictates, and we must
meet no more as"
"Say not that we shall meet no more as
lovers! Say that we shall meet no more;
that will be sufficiently severe, for Eliza
could we meet but to love--to upbraid fate
which so cruelty divides u.s."