The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1845-11-22

seech you, and if the light of another morning
| will not scare this derium from your brain" and
bidding him good night he left the room.
CHAPTER H.
She moves with free, and careless tread,
| Where the young and joyous go;
But her heart hath tale thou hast not read,
In its secret depths below
Henry Bentham turned slowly towards home,
| striving as he went to drive the words Of Vihton
! from his mind, but he could not. Incredulous as
he had been-coldly as he had met his assertion,
| there was yet something in his Misunderstanding
in the uprightness Of character which he had al
ways attributed to him, that implanted do ubt ia
bis mind. which lie found itImpossibe to eradicate.
Walter had been his play fellow-his school-fel-
low-his friend; and the confidence he felt in him
was only less, than that he felt in the man OF
whom they had been speaking. The thought
would continually recur that he must nave had
some reason Tor his assertion. II was true that
Walter was the son of wandering vagrant, from
whose hands Colonel Vinton had taken him in his
infancy. and received him, not only into his house,
his son; but the character which he had always
exhibited was such as to render him worthy of the
kindness he had received, and to cause his ac-
quaintancs to forget the degraded parentage from
which he sprung.
As Henry passed along the hall to bis own room, !,
still burning, and turning towards it, he knocked
at the door.
",'ome in, Henry" said soft low voice, and
he entered.
Lucy Bentham was sitting by table, her head
resting upon one hand which was half buried
amid the masses of auburn hair which clustered
about her face and neck. There was pensive
expression cast over countenance which seemed
only formed for sunlight, but the smile with which
she welcomed her brother lacked none ofits won't
ed sweetness. He drew char, and seated him
self beside her
"Well, Lucy, he asked, sis your fate decided"
at is"
"And will you be the wife of Richard Vintoni''
eI will" .l .--e,---- e
"Have you informed him of your decision'"
"Not yet-that remains to be done"
care you happy, -Lucy'"
| "Yes"
There was a slight hestancy with wich the last
monosyllable was pronounced, which caused Hen
ry to regard her with somewhat Of earnestnrss,
and anxiety, and she answered TO his look.
"Do you doubt me, Henry! Why should not
be happy Is there not happiness in doing the
pleasure of those we lover Shall not rejoice if I
can save my father from run' And am not
about to commit my happiness 10 the best of men, h,
to one of whose love there are few women who
could not be proud! Why should | be unhappy?'
| "Truly Lucy, did not ask you what you
should he, but what you are. am glad, however
to find that you are so happy" he added with af-
fected carelessness. .And so you will have to
play the part of matron for your old playmate,
Water;"
Lucy started: 81 had not thought Of that" she
exclaimed
"Of what?' ......... .....-
why, that-that Walter would reside there f"
"Why, where did you suppose he would reside ,
Has he not always resided there;"
Yes, but" .. -.a H.
| 'But what" ....-r
''Oh had not thought Of it al all"
"Well it was not strange that SO light matter
should have escaped your notice" ... .-
alt seems to me, after all,' he continued IN
half musiug tone, ''that Walter would have been
more appropriate match for YOU" -s sre
"Do not rife with me to night, Henry. am
in too serious mood forrt."
.'Indeed. Lucy, am no less serions than your
self; it certainly seems to me, now think tit,
that il would be much more appropriate. Walter
is neal your owp age, and it does not seem TO me
at all unloveable. If he were only the son, and
heir of his patron, and not nameess descendeDt
ofnobody, think he would really be the better
match, Don'tyou think you could love him'''
"Lucy Bentham could never give her heart
unasked," said she proudly. a
"Oh no, always supposing he asked you, Of
course--woud--" r.ss. -..
"Henry," said she, interupting him, ''no more
Of this if you love me. Walter Vinton can never
be more to me than the protegee of him to whom
l shall henceforth owe my whole heart
Henry retired to rest that night, with many
misgiving with regard to his sisters happiness
His conversation with Walter haunted him, and
the attempt he had made to discover her feelings
resulted but little to his satisfaction.
~ CHAPTER III.
There are bright visions on my soul returning,
And fairy forms-I know not whence they come; |
And voices whisper to my spirit yearning,
Like the dear tones of some forgotten home.
"Where are you taking me, Walters" exclaim-
ed Henry Bentbam, 81 thought you were only
coming fora short walk, and we are already be-
yond the precincts of the town. am sure there is
little pleasure in travelling this country road upon
dar mir ..I al.