The northern galaxy. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1844-1848, 1845-07-09
Three Scenes in a Lifetime,
BY THE AUTHORIZES OF "THE eIrANA."

and calm that saw our more oil heaven tnan
Of world of turmoil and of sin.
1t was at this most holy hour that young
girl wandered slowly and sadly upon the
lawn, attached to one of the prettiest vicar
age houses in England. She paused at last
beneath the shadow of a noble tree, whose
wide spreading branches swept the earth a.
round.
Shaking back the light brown curls from
her fair face, she looked upwards to the
cloudless sky; but quickly, as though the Sc
renity aud peace were too perfect contem-
plation for heart throbbing beneath the in
fuehce Of an earthly care, the maiden bowed
her head.
In her hand was a bunch of freshly-s ath
cred flowers, but their perfume and beauty
had no power over her thoughts, and in APP
parent Inconsistencies OF her " ork of des-
truction, she tore the delicate leaves apart
aud cast them from her. until the greensward
around was spangled with their varied hues.
What was her thoughts2 Why had the
setting sun no charms for her? Why were
the blossoms she watched and tended neg
lected and destroyed2 Why did The large
tears tremble in her dark blue eyes? Alas
she had awakened from her spell-bound
dream of happiness 10 reality of sorrow.
The shadow of disappointment and despair
had fallen on her heart.
Mary Ellice was the eldest child and only
daughter ofthe vicar of n, VINO for
many years had added TO the somewhat
scanty Income derived from his church pre-
ferment, and been enabled 10 live in style
almost approaching 10 luxury, by superinten-
ding the education of the younger branches
/ of noble families. Among the pupils there
was one who for some years had been the
darling of the wears wife and children, and
the subject of much anxiety TO The vicar
+ Ernest Graeme was the second son of a no
/ bier en-. who had no inclination 10 sacrifice
either his own lndulgencies or prospects of
/ his heir, for one who was considered by all
us the scapegrace OF his family. After, there
! fore, having spent five years under the care
/ Of Mr.. Elice, Ernest was appointed 10 a
marching regiment ordered for Indian SER
wee, aud to the wears daughter this news
had come, iraight with the certainty of suff-
erinG. In all Ernesrs wild frolics, and the
trouble and punishment that followed them,
Mary Ellice had ever been ready with her
geule voice and pleading smile to shield the
handsome and daring offender from her faith
ers anger; and mingled with his naturally
| impeiuous disposition was so much ofgener-
osiiy and high and kindly impulse, that there
were few who knew and did not love him.
| Gree, when Mary had been i'll and confined
/ for some weeks 10 the drawing room sofa.
Ernest had devoted every leisure moment TO
amuse the invalid, who had been so true and
! consderate friend ~ him and ever after
wards when the good vicar would shake his
head and say-'That boys wilfulness will be
The ruin of him ought TO have been more
scvere,'-his wife wouldinterpose with-'Ah!
Mr.. EIicc, remember how gentle and kind,
how quiet and obedient he was when Mary
was ill.,
And Mary herself would turn her entreat-
ing eyes towards her father, until he wonld
smile, and confess that, with all his faults,
Ernest Graeme was a noble youth.
And now he was 10 leave them-and Ma
ry had stolen away from her mothers lamen-
tatons, and the tears and sobs of her little
brothers, as in noisy grief they chung around
then tavorite to commune with her own heart,
and tremblingly 10 read the secret written
there.-Yes, the Wears daughter loved the
young and high-born Ernest.
Mary whispered voice so near that she
started with low cry, shrinking from his
gaze as, she never had shrunk before, for she
feared lest he should learn the truth.
Mary, dear he said, why did you come
forth alone?--this is the last evening, Mary,
we are 10 pass together The girl strug-
gled with her emotion and strove 10 answer
calmly, as she raised her eyes TO that noble
face that was bent towards her.
$50 soon she said. DO you depart to-
morrow
1 must, Mary, go within this very hour
My father has sent for me and my horse is
awaiting me-
Everyray ofcolour fled from the faircheeks
of the grief stricken listener; the blood grew
chill around her heart: the memory of that
moments bitter agony haunted her for
years.
He clasped her hand in his.
Do not look so sad, dearest Nary he
! said; in seven or eight years shall return;
you will not forget me- Mary; you will still
I smile upon me,when, at future time, shall
lay my fame and riches at your feet. Why
do you not answer me, my gentle Mary@
Alasl alas! seren or eight years Ito that
young heart it seemed a dreary waste->a
. terrible eternity. tits only in looking back
we learn how rapid is the flight oftime.
Wide seas must bow between them, while
he would be exposed 10 innumerable periIs;
and years-long years-must pass ere they
should meet again. 1t was, indeed, an ap-
parenty hopeless contemplation for that low
ing girl.
tnoughis- Mary, will you not speak 10 ME
ere departr
She strove in vain for utterance. He saw
that sori ow had rendered her powerless, and
that protracted interview could but in
crease her great distress.
God bless you Mary he murmured; and
then, with one fond hurried embrace turned
away. Mary watched him until he disap-
peared behind The vicarage house listened
for the last sound ofhis horses returning
steps, and then bowling her head upon her
hands, she wept long and bitterly.
Three years had passed, and in small
and somewhat scanty furnished chamber sat
the vicar and his wife. Time had brought
many changes. The living, which was held
IN trust for minor, had been resigned; the
pupils had become few /; and when the pres
sure OF circumstances obliged them TO re-
move to still smaller cottage in the village,
they found themselves left with scarcely any
means Of support. At this juncture, an old
nobleman who had long admired Mary FL
lice, came forward to their assistance, anc
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