The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1847-08-21

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10 seek Stella again, for her silent farewell
had panied him, but he heard a low wailine
in the room where he had left her, and came
near. There weeping with passionate We
! hcmence that shook her slight frame, knclt
| the blind girl, her head bowed and her hands
tightly clasped together.
My mother-my PhiIip-bolh gonc-I nm
all alone now she murmured in accents of
thrilling sorrow.
Philip forgot everything except that he
loved and was beloved. lie dartcd forward
and kuclt beside her.
mo, not alone, my Stcla--Star ofmy life
my only beIovcd,' he cried, layishing upon
her the passionate cpithcts that love teaches.
i will never leave you my hearts darling.
my hc0utitul-morc than all the wOrlhp he
continued, while his arms oncirccd his treas
urc, and she trembling, almost doubling the
Joyful certainty, could only weep. lie asked
! her why she did so.
| 'Bccausc | am unworthy of you--I, so ig-
norant-so Young and blind
Il will he your eyes, my dcarestp cried the
lover kissing the bluc-vciucd lids that droop-
ed over those poor sightcss orbs, rs with the
. most tender and earnest assurances, he told
stella al-how her sweetness aud childlikc
simplicity had awakened his deepest love
how he had struggled against it, and finally,
how he had found ont his error, and was re-
solved in despite of ilI-tortunc, pridc,povcrtv,
to ask her for his own. Aud so they plight
ed tnelr faith ono to the other: the blind girl
and her lover One hour--almost one mo-
mcnt-h0d changed their fate through life.
Philip Armytagc went home fail Of deep
thought. His step was frmcr. his carriagc
holder, for he felt that he was no longer n
lonely man-hc was the guardian ofanohcr's
hnppncss-lhe object of woman'a priceless
love. He had not only to think of himself,
but of her who trusted hinl-who placed her
face in his keeping. Since yesterday, his
whole thoughts were changed; even his
worldly prospects seemed brighter now that
Stella loved him, and that his l0runcs might
one day he linked with hers. Poverty look
ed dim in the distance; he felt proud con-
seriousness Of his own powers; it seemed that
he could brave all things-do all things it
stella might one day be his wife. The
glamor OF love Ovcrsprcud all lac looked upon;
and with these delicious feelings, Philip Ar
mytngc, before be slept, sal down, aud wrote
letter to Mr. Braudrcth, asking StcIla's
hand.
1t was refused! The fithcr though not I'M
kind, was firm. lie regretted his own error
in not having forsCen the end Of such n
friendship, and courtcously, but resUIutcly
refused to sanction marriage or even be-
rotllal, so wild and imprudcnt
The lover read lhc cold, the formal epste
through twice, before lie comprchcudcd it
clearly; it came like ice upon fire, The SCR
siblc, riglrt-minded Philip Armytage was still
under the influence ofthat sweet. bewildcr-
ed love dream. Yet, there the words were
freezing and plain-"thata man without rich
cs should never be the huShund of Stella
Brandrcth." His spirit sank within HIM; he
covered his face, and the burning tears, so
seldom wrun% from manhood, stole through
his fingers. How well lie loved the poor
blind girl
Night found him still pacing his chamber
in utter dcsolatiou Of heart. Then he yearn-
ed once more to look upon the face Of her he
loved. He longod to tell Stella that he had
not iorsakcn her-tIIat he would never love
any but her. Under cover of darkness he
Stolo to her home--crept along the grass to the
window ofthe room where lie and Stella had
so often sat; the light through the halcCrawn
curtains, showed that she was there and a.
lone. From the deep sadness of her face
and attitude he guessed that she knew ALL
Philip touched the wIndow-it was Il little
way open, and in Il moment hc stood by her
side.
Long and monrniul was the conference
between the two; but when Philip spoke Of
his departure for Italy, the girls sorrow IL
mounted almost to agony.
'Phlip--Phip, do not leave me- she cried
imploringly-I was SO desoIatc before you
came; you only brought light and Joy to the
poor blind girl. No one has loved me, but
you, since my mother died. Philip, | shall
die too, i'll lose you. Forsakc me not
take me with yon; as your wife l shall fear
nothng-shall regret nothing
Poor Stella! she knew so little ofthe world,
and she was so young-hardly more than
child in years, and child in simplicity. All
that she felt was the anguish of losing him
who was the only ono who made life precious
to her. She chung around his neck, and be-
sought him TO stay, i'll spite of her flthcr-of
every one.
Bitter, indeed, was the struggle in the
young mans bosom; but the right triumphed
at last. lie would not commit SO gricvous Il
sin as to bring sorrow and poverty on
the innocent creature who trusted him, by
wedding her against her fathers will.
Stella, dearest, you do not know what you
ask--we must part for Il while. There never
comes blessing on disohedience; and God
forbid that | should be the one to steal child
from her fathers arms even if loved her as
my hearts blood-and thus love | you, my
Stella
4 deep fush of womanly shame crossed |
the girls face. She drew herself from her
lovers arms, and stood upright.
4 have been wrong. Philip have forgot
ten what owe to myself to my father, to
you: forgive me- am very iguorant-you
arc wiser and better than /. Forget all this,
and only remember that am blind and lone
Iy, with no one TO love me but you. Go, you
trc right; | will strive TO be content in think
ing how little deserve to be loved so well
by one like YOU
Philip used all the sweet language ola low
pr, to sootle and cheer her. He told her
hat he would struggle for life and death, to
gain that wealth which would enable him to