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

al thought to slay him where he stood. D
MARM1oN.
When Henry Bentham, after leaving Walter,
was about to enter his fathers parlor he heard the
voice of Richard Vinton within, speaking, with
much animation, of poor family in the country,
which he had visited that afternoon and describing
their sufferings in most CO mpassionate tone. "I
think, my sweet Lucy" he added turning to the
fair girl beside him. 4" that must take you with
me some day, to visit some of these unfortunate
friends Of mine fear you have known too little
OF human suffering for your own good" It was
with difficulty that Henry could restrain the indig-
nation which burned in his bosom, or refrain from
removing Lucy at once from the presence of the
polluted being, upon whom she looked with so
much confidence. He felt like trampling under
loot. as he would the serpent in his path, the man
who could turn away from such gang of villains,
as those with whom he had seen him associated in
the early part Of the evening, and with his hands
scarce washed from the stain of human blood sit
down at the side of innoc ence. and purity, and
breathe into her ear his tale Of worthy deeds and
self-sacrificing benevolence. That such man
should attempt to move her to sympathy with hu-
man suffering, or sit as the teacher oil kindness and
virtue, in the presence of dne SO lovely, was too
much to endure; and without venturing to trust
himselfin his presence he turned aside, and waited
with impatience for his departure. That hour was
already late, and Vinton, excusing the unseasona-
BILE time of his visit on plea of the act of charity,
which lie had just credited to himself soon breath
ed an adieu. and departed
Henry" said Lucy, as her brother took the
seat which Vinton bad just vacated, "you look
sad and disquieted to night. had been waiting
Tor your return that your presence might drive
away my own sadness, for own have no power
TO do SO myself"
But Lucy, why should you be sad."
Indeed, cannot tell, Henry; have been
struggling against it all day. but in vain. Perhaps
am nervous, as founo it impossible to sleep last
night " -.-
T" Not sleep: and why'"
al could not compose my thoughts the past
and the future were all before me with nnwelcome
vividness, lard sleep was banished from my pillow"
"Does not the future look bright to you, Lucys"
Lucy dropped her head upon her hand, so that
her eyes were shaded, but the silent tear would
struggle through, between the lily fingers, and this
was her only answer
Henry was convinced OF thai which he had be.
fore suspec ted. that in accepting the proposals OF
Col Vinton, Lucy was sacrificing her own feel.
ings to the wishes other father. He was now glad
to assure himself of this, and he was almost tempt
ed to tell her all that he had learned that evening"
Of the man to whom she was betrothed;b ;but he knew
that state ofsuspense would be worse for her than
ignorance, and he forbore.
Henry" said she, as her tears, notwithstand- |
ing her efforts to suppress them, continued to flow
" know am weak and childish ia night; but this |
fit Of sadness will soon'be gone,-I cannot COM
mand mys'lf now. Good night" And, receiving
his parting kiss, she departed to indulge her feel.
ngs alone.