The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1846-09-24
CO USlN M A Y.
WRITTEN FOR THE SATURDAY EVENING
Posi-,
BIZ T. S. ArMur.


row.
eyes; I received q letter from Philip to
day. He says she died last Wednesday,"
II did not suppose she would live yer.
long" remarked Mrs. Elwood, with ill-con
cealed Indifference, " but she has gone offmort
suddenly than expected. Have you hearc
any particulars ?"
Philip wrote very briefly. He says she
took bad cold, which brought on the distress
ing cough with which she was sometimes trou
blel, and that hemorrhage from the lung
carried her off in a few hours"
Poor thing She is out Of her sufferings,
said Mrs. Elwood, coldly. "Did Philip write
any thing about Mary?"
II wonder what will be done with
her? l suppose Philip intends taking hel
into his family"
No doubt he will cheerfully give the I'M
happy orphan home, and let her share
equally with his own children. But Philip
has large family Of his own, and he is
poor"
But one won't make much difference, Mr..
Elwood. Besides, Mary is said to be a very
handy girl, and WILL no doubt, be useful in a
young family of children like Philips. | am
sure they will be glad to have her."
Il have not doubt but Philip and his wife
will give her home, gladly and | have no
doubt that Mary will make herself very use
full. But Philips two oldest girls are now big
enough to help their mother considerably, and
will be getting Of more use every day. They
do not, therefore, really need Mary's servi-
ces, and for her to go into their family would
be to some extent burdensome"
:" don't know. 1t seems to me that she
ought to be worth her victuals and clothes any
where" said Mrs. Elwood. But if they
don't take her, where is she to go? She
-ought'nt to be left altogether to herself"
(" No, Of course not She is my sisters child,
and has claims upon me-"
81 don't see that she has any more claims
upon you than she has upon Philip"
No more, naturally. But the difference
in our circumstances makes the claim strong
or upon me-
You might pay her board at Philips"
suggested Mrs. Elwood-" how would that
do?"
"Neither Philip nor his wife would ever
take a cent from me for that purpose"
"They would be very foolish to refuse
The fact is they are queer kind of people,
any how. / never could understand them
But you could board her somewhere else"
WHY should l do that, Sarah, when l have
a house of my own, and every comfort to offer
my sisters child ?"
"Oh, no, Mr. Elwood, couldn't have her
here" said the lady, quickly.
"Why not, Sarah ?" Mr., Elwood looked
grave, and spoke as gravely.
"We couldn't make her a companion for
our children
"Why not ?" asked the husband.
"She is Just the age of onr Clarinda-
would you like to see them intimately associ-
ated 2"
There are few things in which Mary is
not fully the equal of Clarinda."
Mr.. Elwood am astonished to hear
you speak So Raised as she has been, that is
impossible. I don't suppose she has sin
gle accomplishment How could she have p
''She never went to boarding school,
know. Nor has she had the advantages of
fashionable education. But from what have
seen of her, should call her more accom-
pllshed than many Of the fine young ladies
who now and then visit Clarinda."
" l don't know how that can be. Hut |
never saw her."
"And therefore cannot form any correct
opinion about her"
/ know, however, that figs cannot grow
upon bramble bushes" replied Mrs. Elwood,
in rather a bad temper.
The strong opposition manifested by Mrs,
Elwool to the reception Of Mary into their
house, caused her husband to hesitate for some
time as to the course best to be pursued in
respect to his sisters child 1t would not do
10 let her fall a burden upon his brother Phil
lp, whose family was now too large for his
means to support comfortably; nor could he
deem it right to provide for her home among
strangers, where she might be subjected to
injurious influences His final conclusion,
after weighing the matter long and anxious
Iy, was to make her member of his own fam
lily. His wife demurred strongly, but her OBJ
jections had to yield.
Mary Fielding, at the time of her mothers
Heath, was eighteen years Of age. Her stat
IRE was little above the ordinary height
md her form slender and dclicately proper
Toned. Her complexion was fair and wan,
and her eyes Of deep blue. AT first sight
no one would call her handsome; but no one
could sit by her side and hear the tones of
ler voice, and watch her face while every
emotion that she felt played beautifully over
It, without feeling that there was an irresisti- I
Die charm about her-without awarding her
he palm of loneliness. I
A very different girl was Clarinda Elwood, f
much to the grief of her father, whose aflec- i
ion for his child could not make him blind to ,
Ter real character. She was as snowy and |
brilliant as the other was plain, modest and ,
retiring. But her briliiancy soon ceased to
attract, for it was quickly discovered to he 9
mere tinscl. Some called it boldncss instead |
If brilliancy-and this was close to the truth S
or she was really forward, handsome, chat t
cring Miss, just home from a fashionable 1
boarding school, where she had finished her |
education. I
Your fathers sisters daughter is to be |
lere in a week" said Mrs. Elwood, in a half t
querulous tone, few days af- c
er this conversation with her husband. !
"Who? Cousin Mary Fielding?" enquir- /
ID Clarinda. t
1T1ru Eialdinr Don't hnrin IN coll bnr /