Ypsilanti sentinel. [volume] (Ypsilanti, Washtenaw Co., Mich.) 1843-1900, 1846-11-11

swear to ANYTHING you bid me say"
"And Mr. Patterson" inquired the lady,
ssMay send for himr'
.My lord said NO, he would have no can't
ing priests here"
The old woman hobbled back to her seat, and
the lady, covering her face sobbed aloud.
ssCruel, even to the lastr' she said, at length.
sThis life, that some call so happy, how drea-
nv has it been to me! Long, miserable years,
ending in a death like this!' And words of
ng-suppressed anguish, thoughts that had bur-
dened the heart with weight of misery for years
burst from her dying lips.
"Poor ladyr' muttered the nurse; ''her mind
wanders. I've heard strange stories about her.
To be sure, there was something wrong, or my
lord would never have kept her mewed up
so close; and dare say the thought of it trou-
bles her now"
"To be sure, there was something wrongr'
The words had been in many mouths, till it
came to be believed that some dark secret, some
hidden error, was the cause of the seclusion in
which she was kept by her husband. The sad
ness of her countenance was held to be occa-
stoned by remorse, and the tears thatw some
times seen to fall, as she knelt in prayer in the
house of God, were looked upon as tears of pen
itence. The patience and meekness with which
she bore the impertinence of some who limited,
even in her presence, at the suspicious they
entertained, only confirmed them in their belief
that in some way she had erred grievously.-
Sand, then, my lord" they said, SIS SO easy and
gcod-humored anybody might be happy with
him." So by degrees belief had gained ground
that all was not as it should be with the beau
tiful lady of Elmwood; and some dared to speak
scornfully of her, even those who were unwor
thy to wipe the dust from her feet.
For the suspicious that had gone abroad, the
underlined mysterious whispers against her were
unjust as they were cruel. There was nothing
of schemc,though God knows, there was enough
of bitter sorrow in her bushes and her tears
Her spirit was too utterly broken by daily and
hourly trials, of which the coarse world knew
nothing,to resent insult or reply to impertinence
None knew--how should they know?-how
course of petty oppression, beginning in her
earliest years, had conquered all cheerfulness
and crushed all hope; and, during her married
life, to none but to her God did she breathe a
word of the troubles which subdued her, and
to which she submitted without a struggle
The little world about Elmwood had only seen
her brought-in triumph, as it seemed-as a
bride to her husbands ancestral home. They
had seen, at first, a gay succession of guests at
the old hall, and the young bride presiding at
guests fell off by degrees, ladies ceased to be
among the few remaining visitors, land, wh en- an
occasional party met at Elmwood the lady was
no longer seen among them. Her husband
thought it necessary, at first, to excuse her alb
sence on the plea ofill health; but it was soon
understood that there were other reasons (al-
though none knew what such reasons were)
WHY she appeared no more, and her name was
never mentioned.
She was sometimes seen by persons who Wis
tied Elmwood on business, wandering alone IN
the woods near the house, like a pale yet beau
tiful spirit, or tending the flowers in small
garden sheltered by the far-stretching walls in
the old hail. Some, who had purposely thrown
themselves in her way said that she replied
gently to their greeting, but always in tone
of sadness. On Sunday she never failed, UNI
less when detained at home by severe illness, to
walk to the church in the neighboring village.
1t was built upon the edge of her husbands
park, and little path led to it from the great
house, through old dark woods: and by little
stream that stole away at last, singing as 1t
went, into the fields below the churchyard.-
The whole village was part of the Elmwood
property, and the church contained many mon
uments to the memory of its possessors. The
family pew had still its velvet cushions and
draperIes, faded they were, and here the lady
knelt alone Sunday after Sunday. Rain and
cold, frost and snow, all seemed alike to her,
The good rector, who soon learned to take an
interest in her pale and melancholy face, never
failed to glance at that humble worshper, so
constant in her attendance. Sometimes he saw
that she was weeping, and his kind heart longed
to breathe comfort to her evidently wounded
spirit His attempts to make her acquaintance
at her own house had all proved vain. Her
husband, whose manner to the good old priest
was full of scarcely suppressed contempt, al
ways replied to his enquiries about the lady by
saying she received no visitors. To speak to
her on her way to or from the church was his
only chance of proving to her how much he
felt interested in her welfare. She always
waited till all others had left the church, and
then stole quietly across the graveyard and
through the little gate into the park. One wet
and stormy Sunday, when the congregation was
very scanty, the clergyman, Mr.. Patterson, to
his surprise, saw the delicate form of the lady of
Elmwood kneeling in her usual place, her meek
head bowed in prayer. When the service was
over, he went to her, and offered to assist her
in getting home. She took his arm in silence,
and, feeling that she was trembling with cold, |
he led her towards the rectory, whittier his wife |
and daughter had proceeded him. He looked
compassionately upon her as he endeavored to
shield her from the beating rain: for she ap-
peared so feeble that without his help she must
have fallen.
'This is trying weather for one who seems
so delicate and weak as you" he said gently.
"Surely you should not venture to leave home
on day like this" /
81 come here for consolation" she answered
sadly; "you know not how much need IL"
s.But God is in every place, dear lady; from
your secret chamber He hears your prayer a
rise; and surely it is not well to risk your lite
thus"
'.My lifer' she exclaimed, in tone of grief
that brought tears into the old mans eyes; ''my
life! Why should nurse and cherish it, as fit
Were precious thing! Who would miss me if
l were gone? Forgive me, oh, forgive me-" she
added, after short silence: 81 know these are
wild and sinful words, forget that l have spoken
them; think of me only as of one sorely tried to