Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1844-08-30

would kill me-"
al doubt not you think so now, love but time
works strange changes in this world Of ours. We
know not what we may do | wish not to exact
promise from you. The thought is bitterly painful
to me, but should your present views change, | do
not wish that the reproach of broken promise
should mar your peace of mind"
Henry, hear me-" said Ellen, in solemn tone. |
Should ever so fer forget my faith to your ashes
as to lend my to the language oflove, my heart
to the voice of affection from another may your
form, on my bridal evening, come to me and rep |
roach me for my faithlessness."
a bright smile passed over the face Of the dying
man. He murmured-
"Repeat those words again, my Ellen; they take |
from death its sting, in Heaven you will be all my
own. Forgive my selfshness, derrest; but have
so loved you cannot think that another shall WIN"
His voice ceased to aticuatc, and again the deep
tones Of the young mourner thrilled the air with the
repetition Of those awful words. AS they passed
her ips she felt the hand that clasped hers relax
its grasp-a faint futtering consc iousness seemed
to hover a moment his features, and in another
instant they wore the calm and passioness repose
of death.
Ellen Sinclair buried herself in the sccluson of
her own abode. A calm and gentle melancholy
succeeded the first violence Of her grief but she
betrayed no desire to minglo with the world. Clad
! in the deepest mourning she was seen nowhere but
at church and those who looked on her felt deep
sympathy for one SO young and so bitterly beroav
ed Vanly had her own parents sought to draw
her from her solitude. Two years passed, and ai
ter many fruitless efforts they at length succeeded
in obtaining promise Of visit from her at the
annual reunion of their family at Christmas, for
that season is still held as festival in many parts
of Virginia.
Ellen was once more beneath the roof of her
father and many and painful were the emotions
which struggled in her bosom when she looked a
round and remembered that the last time she stood
beside her native hearth, she was q gay and happy
bride.
Those who looked on her could not avoid remar
king the change which two years had wrought in
her appearance. The girl Just budding into matu
rty had expanded into the beautiful and sell pos
sessed woman, with quiet grace of manner, and
an air Of pensve reserve which was extremely cap
tvating.
Her parents were worldly minded people, who
could not bear that their fair daughter should pass
her life in the solitude to which she had doomed
herself They surrounded her with agreeable com.
pany, sought to amuse her mind and draw it from
the contemplation Of the terrible calamity which
had destroyed her dawnng hopes othapplness, and
they succeeded sufficiently to implant in her mind
dstaste to the idea ofreturning to her late abode
y Week after week passed, until months were num-
bered, and she began 10 think it her duty to
remain with her parents. She was their youngest
child, and the only one without ties which severed
them in measure from the parental roof
" Ellen, my darling" said her father, when she
spoke of returning home, you will not again for
sake us We are old, and you are the only child
who is free to remain with us. You must live here
i cannot think of permitting you to return &c
that lonely home of yours"
" 1t is lonely" replied Ellen; "and fear that af
ter breaking through my usual habits, | shall FIND
it difficult and wearysome to resume them. Yet
my dear father, if consent to remain, there is one
request which must make"
what is it, my daughter? Are we not ever
mindful of your wishes?'
"Ah, yes, my dear father, more mindful than
deserve. But"-and her voice sank to low ag
tated Whisper" there must be no looking forward
to second marriage for memo attempt to alte
my views on that subject. have made VOW t.
the dead and it must be kept sacred"
"Whatw exclaimed her father, was Sinclai
ungenerous enough to exact from you promise
not to marry again ?-young and inexperienced al
"a you were too"
"Ah! no, tather-wrong him not. He was TOT
noble. He asked no promise-l made it voluntari
ly and as the words left my lips his spirit departed
Oh no my father, never ask me to break that voy
it is hallowed one"
Mt "Well my darling, let it be as you wish. shal
w. prefer keeping you with u.s. but at the same time
DO if you should ever meet with one you can love- an
who is worthy of you it will be very silly to SUITE
,g few words uttered when you were scarcely con
lg scious Of their meaning to prevent you from ma
king the home OF an honorable man happy. WHY
he child, you only now nineteen. Do you suppos
er that the death Of one person, however dear, ca
lie chill all your feelings into ice at that age?"
ny 81 must then in sincerity of soul pray to be dc
by livered from temptation" said the young widow
he with faint smile, for shall never marry again
As time passed on, Mrs. Sinclair could not hel
eft acknowledging that she was far happier than in he
n mountain solitude. Her spirits were no longer wet
= ried she no longer felt that life was burden 81
ed would gladly lay down. She needed the excite
ng ment of society, and the social and highly cutiv
tly ted neghborhood in which her fathers residenc
ofxwas situated afforded every facility for its EMO,
it-fment.
by The third year of her widowhood was DRAWN
as TO a close, when she received invitation to Il
III marriage of favorte cousin, who would take
in refusal. Ellen replied that if the bride would
cuse her sombre dress and pensive face she won
as attend and the concession was hailed an omen
the future success in drawing her into that world 81
ra- was so peculiarly fitted to adorn.
yht There was motive for these efforts of whit
yes Ellen little dreamed She regularly attended Il
Ell church near her fathers residence and her moth
md had several times called her attention to remI
au- kably handsome man who sat in pew nearly O
un poslte to them; but she had not remarked that
e eyes frequently wandered from his prayer book
m her own fair face. His height, and the turn of
ly- head had reminded her of Sinclair, but there I
ON resemblance ceased. The broad brow, finely CHI
sin led features and clear dark eye of the strang
ma were all unlike the youthful bloom of him who h
en- won her young affections. She frequently hei
ca Mr.. Peyton spoken of as man of distinguish
that ondowmens, who had spent several years in
rhe south of Europe with an only and beloved sist
nee. for the benefit Of whose health the journey /
and been yainly undertaken These circumstances i
the nearly passed from her mind when she was int
ury duced to him at the wedding the intimate frie
of the groom.
that Peyton had fallen in love with her from his C
on ua view of her at church, and the eulogium of
friends Gflianoed bride, who looked on Mira. S
sor- clair as bright particular star" had deeper
pas the impression The circumstances Of her IN
was riage threw romantic interest around her histo
and when he looked on the youthful brow witt
his shade of placid penslyeness that seemed to brea
haowed charm over her beauty, he felt that
was was the only woman he had ever known, Def
Tess, whom his heart could bow with the homage Of
of lection.