Burlington free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1827-1865, 1842-11-18

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would not appear that day at The frugal board
Of The cottagers; and when evening came,
he took himself sternly to task, for his crimi-
nal silence, and resolved to walk over 10 the
valley, and address himself to the better and
more generous feelings Of his friend. He
found him walking alone in his garden, ap-
parently lost in thought; and then he spoke
to him in low tone, but firmly and boldly,
Of the dark treachery he purposed, and urged
him to make redress, ere the coroner's in
quest was held on the body, or even on the
very day. Ere he ended, he expressed his
deep sense Of the generous offer made him,
Of the hand of the woman he loved. ,..
The farmer heard him, without the Sigh
test interruption, and then replied calmly,
after a pause, "You are minister, Mr..
Thomaston, and feel as one who dares not
look on sin with approval, or let 1t be done
without warning word. But never talk to
me thus again; think you it is light thing
for man who's name is held in respect and
honor, to do what sinks him beneath his men,
ial servant, il known 7-"But it cannot, 1t
shall not be known, ''he said, clenching his
hand hard, "Fanny and yourself alone saw
it." "But God saw it-amidst the stiffness
Of the night, his eye was upon you I" said
his companion.-The hand of the other was
instantly raised, and sudden blow struck
the speaker to the earth; il was done less in
anger, however, than in the agony Of feel
ing; for the words thrilled to the heart of
the guilty man. He raised his guest eau
tlously and kindly, and a sudden revulsion of
feeling coming over him, he burst into tears,
and implored his forgiveness. The young
man. as the effects Of the blow passed away !,
looked earnestly in his assailant's face, and
took his hand solemnly in his own. "Ask
not forgiveness of me; 1 know that frank
and generous nature is changed, and the de-
mon Of avarice rules it at will. But l will
not betray you; let the earth keep its Sc
cret-but If it cover not this deed, let shame
come on my own head, but will not betray
my friend-tbe father of the woman love-"
And he would not stay to hear the heartfelt
reply, or TO enter the dwelling, but bent his
way again to the glen. The next day the
coroner's inquest was held, and verdict of
"found drowned" being returned, the body
was buried in the church yard. The wealth
er had changed since the preceding day, and
drizzling showers descended without ceasing,
on the small and impatient group that stood
in the lonely church yard, witnessing the in
terment. The curate's voice trembled. as
he read the service; there was one beside
him on whom he dared not look, who trem-
bled still more. His face was pale, and the
eye restless, that faced the driving blast and
rain, rather than the open grave; and as the
earth fell with dull and heavy sound every
moment on the half buried coffin, the spoiler
drew back instinctively, and reclined against
a tomb that stood near. Each hollow rush
that covered for ever the dead, struck on his
startled spirit; and he thought of the wretch
ed stranger, of his distant Spanish home, of
his family that vainly sought him, whose
rightful inheritance his own hand had taken
away. "lfhe had died affair."" he asked him.
self, sand some ruthless hand had despoiled
his daughters thus-could he rest quiet in the
grave Z" These thoughts, that swept wildly
through his fancy, we're aided by the sad and
lonely scene, over which the sky gathered
dark and threatening; and as the curate
read, with faint voice, the solemn words,
"the wages Of sin is DEATH" he clasped his
hands wildly, and uttered a low and piercing
moan. The few who stood around looked
earnestly at tho man; il was not sound of
sorrow or sympathy. but the wall of woun-
ded mind; and ere their surprise had subsi-
ded, the grave was closed and they depar-
ted,eecl, along the wild glen, to his own
homeA
The glen was no longer the same 10 the
curate, and his walks through its narrow do
mains lost their charm; in place of tram
guilty and peaceful conscience, came a
glowing and resistless excitement; the love
Of the eldest daughter. 1t seemed as if the
late event had broken down the barriers of
restraint, doubt and inequality of lot; they
alone were prvy TO the dark secret, and
they could not avoid often conversing on it,
and mingling their tears and apprehensions
together; and warm attachment soon be-
came mutual. The day was appointed for
their marriage; dwelling was sought, and
handsomely furnished, by the father; il had
a garden and glebe of land, on which graz
ed several cows for the dairy, and horse
for his own use. And now his glowing vis-
ions were soon to be fulfilled and the poor
pastor of Saint Kylas, with fifty pounds a
year, was to become the master of a fair
house and estate, the husband of the finest
and best dowried girl in the west. The day
came at last, and the bridal party was low
Gus and happy; in all the assembly the
bridegroom alone was pale and thoughtful,
amidst the congratulations of friends, and
the smiles and embraces of his wife, and the
bissful certainty that the woman he loved
was his own for ever. Whatever the paren,
felt, no eye could discern the slightest change
in his countenance; il any terrors we're in
the heart. il seemed that the treasure of the
dead was rich atonement: 10 his widowed
chamber he often went, and drew them forth,
and gazed on them long and inten,ly. In
his dealing and intercourse with his neigh
bors, as well as with the nearest market
town. he supported the same high character
for honesty, fairness and responsibility il
had been a solitary temptation, and had
wrecked in moment the gathered blessings
and golden opinion Of years. And he loved
often to 60 and see his favorite child and her
husband; their dwelling was not far; and
Fanny placed the arm chair for her father,