, 1842-05-14

l"nom, as you know, has long resided
al omyInaJ by which ! am TO be.
come the junior partner in the house
and he has directed me 10 be ready in
three weeks, 10 sail in one of his ships
now ladIng for that port. How long
l shall be absent, is uncertain, but a.
my uncle is DESTROYS Of returning &c
America, presume that it is intend
ed l shall take his place abroad
Years, therefore, may elspse ere ! n
gam behold my native land, and
cannot depart without telling you
how dear you have long BEEN 10 my
heart. Yet let me not deceive yor
Edith: have confessed TO my falhe,
my affection for you,-he acknewl.
edges your worth, and does not dis.
approve my choice, but he has posi-.
lively forbidden me to form any en-.
gagement for the future. | am violat.
ing his commands in thus expressing
my feelings to YOU"
"Whatare his objections, Edward?'
taltered the trembling girl.
"Oh II Is the old story Of over-pru-
dent age; he hat is best to be unfet-
tered by any promise; then no harm
can happen to either, and if you love
me you will wait my return, without
requiring any engagement to confirm
your faith. Thus he argues and
can make no reply. have no means
OF supporting a wife, therefore | dare
not ask you of your parents, and
my fathers caution derives me of the
only comfort which hope might have
afforded me in my exile"
Edith was deeply agitated, and
her cheek grew pale, as she murmur-
ed: "You are right in obcying your
father. Edward; happiness never yet
waited on one who was deficient in
filiaI duty"
sand is this ali you can say, Edith"
exclaimed Edward passionateIy.-
SIS this cold approval all | can hope
TO receive from the otjec, of my first
and only love! Have not my every
look and tone told you how deeply |
loved you, and can you let me depart
without one word Of tenderness or
regret? Must | remember your gen
lie face but as a dream Of boyhood?
Shall your low, sweet voice be but as
melody Of by-gone years! May /
not bear with me, in my Punishment,
a hope, faint and cold it may be as
the winter sunbeam, yet lighting up
my dreary path with something like a
promise Of future %happines9 Edith !
ask no pligbted faith; l wish you not
TO pledge me your hand till | can
come forward and claim it openly;
but | would fain know whether my
love is but as incense flung upon the
winds. If you can offer no retnru
10 my affection, dearest, let me at
once know my fate, and with all the
force Of an over mastering will, shall
my heart be silenced, if not subdued.
Say hat you love mt not, Edith, and
though the stream of my life must
forever bear your image on its sur
face, yet you shall never know how
dark has been the shadow it has cast.
Say that you love me not, and you
shall never hear a murmur from my
lips, nor shall your peaceful existence
be saddened by the gloom which must
ever pervade mine. You are silent
Edith-you cannot bear 10 utter the
words which must condemn me to
despair"
Ellis paused, and strove TO read in
Edith's face, the feelings to which
she could not give utterance. But
her ewes were bent upon the ground,
while the big tears fell like rain from
beneath the dropping lids and in her
flushed cheek he saw only dlspleas-
ure.
81 was right, Edith" said he, sad.
ly, "you do not love me; forgive and
my folly, but let us not part III
coIdness." He took her hand again,
as he spoke: 81 perhaps deserve pun
ishment for my selfshness in thus ask
inc the heart when / could not claim
the hand; when | am gone, some hap.
pier lover will perhaps ask both and
then -,
"He will be Denied" interrupted
Edith, hastily, turning her ag'tated
face towards her sutton. Inns Is nc
time for maiden coyness, Edward;
your happiness and NINE are oolh a.
stake, and therefore | tell you, what
till this moment was unknown even
to myself, that my affections are IN
your keeping" NH ,b.,
supremely happy;l ask no le'
the only bond between US DC 'he De-