Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-03-07
VERY beautiful; her lip
Had a more delicate outline, and the tint
Was deeper, but her countenance was like
The majesty of angels.

Had a more delicate outline, and the tint
Was deeper, but her countenance was like
The majesty of angels.
The room in which she sat was barely sup
Piled with furniture necessary for convenience:
two old chairs, an oaken table and a halfworn
carpet, were all that surrounded one whose APP
pearance spoke Of other, happier and better days.
{" My poor father how he struggles to keep up
his spirits in our fallen fortunes! and now he
goes to that bad man to solicit aid-and he to
be my husband! Father of mercy is there no
way to avoid this fatal blow! In my dreams
have seen one whose features still cling around
the temple of memory as does the tendril vine a
round the oak; yes-as the pale moonlight fell
upon his bright and glorious countenance, and
the flash of his black eye rested upon the robber-
chief, so does he appear to me in my midnight
dreams Then do see him dashed back upon
the ground hear the curse of the robbers, the
rattle Of the wheels, the crack of the whip, and
them then busy fancy conjures up the worst
Well; if he lives he knows me not; fate has sep
arated us and forever. Hank; It's father. He
comes"
As she spoke the old man entered he totter-
ed to chair and fell back, covering his face with
his hands, and wept aloud Yes, the old gray
headed man, in the midst of his sorrows, wept
Age in tears. Earth presents no picture like I'M
to that
" Father--dear father--what has occurred?'
" You were right, my child that smooth ia
ced villain; you are always right; he refused me.
Aye, refused me; but II matched him---ha, ha,
ha. refused him your hand. l told him, aye,
told him to his teeth, that he should never call
child of mine wife; ha, ha, ha."
"Did you tell him that, fatherF
81 did, boldly and scornfully."
Thanks--oh, thousand thanks. What a
load you have taken from my heart. 1t was for
you, father, consented to marry this man, even
while l despised him. But | am free; and the
iron hand of poverty may lay itself still heavier
on US, for can bear it much better, my heart is
so light; kiss me, dear father; cheer up, and all
will go we'll yet. will now go and finish my
embroidery, and perhaps Mr.. Thomas will adj
vance me money enough to pay our rent. What
is that, father, you hold in your hand"
" This---oh aye, brave young man threw
himself between me and death On my way
home, pair of horses had ran off and were
dashing furiously down the street, and in mo-
ment more your poor father would have been no
longer a burden to you"
C Do not talk So father, but 60 on"
" He snatched me up in his arms as if | were
a clild, and carried me some distance, when he
placed me on the pavement. l looked up, he
stood before me, the light from a lamp beamed
down upon him; his face; it must have been a
Dream vision, but he looked, aye, my child, he
looked like him who so nobly rescued us from
the robbers some six years ago: there was the
same flashing eye; but what ails you, child. You
turn pale. Look up, look up, my daughter"
1t is nothing, father it is nothing; go on. u
He walked with me some distance, and spoke
of the dangers old people run, who ventured tc
walk at night when their thoughts we're at home
or their minds troubled"
"What did he mean, father"
Somehow or other he read my heart the Sc
cret of my poverty was to him as plain as if il
were written in my face; for thee yes, thee, he
must have read it. He did not offer me money
but handed me this card, and with it these
words, " If you should ever want friend, cal
on me- though poor myself, | still have the
means of professionally assisting fellow-creature,
There was melancholy sound in his voice
which troubled my heart; l again looked at him
and would have invited him to our house, but
thought of thee, and he so handsome and accom-
pished, and I still thought of thee, my child; fo
such men, however polite, are those a fathe
should most shun SO we parted"