Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1847-07-29


near. There weeping with passionate We
hemence that shook her slight frame, knelt
the blind girl, her head bowed, and her
hands tightly clasped together.
My mother-my Philip-both goue-l
am all alone now she murmured in accents |
of thrilling sorrow.
Philip forgot everything except that he
loved and was beloved. He darted forward
and knet beside her.
No, not alone, my Stella-star of my
Iife-my only beloved he cried, lavshing
upon her the passionate epithets that love
teaches will never leave you my hearts
darling-my beautiinl-more than all the
world = he continued, while his arms encir-
cled his treasure, and she trembling, almost
doubling the joyful certainty, could only
weep. He asked her why she did so.
Because l am unworthy of you'll, so
ignorant-so young, and blind
1 will be your eyes, my dearest cried
the lover kissing the blue-veined lids that
dropped over those poor sightless orbs, as
with the most tender and earnest assuran-
ces, he told Stella all--how her sweetness
and childlike simplicity had awakened his
deepest love-how he had struggled against
it, and finally, how he had found out his er-
ror, and was resolved in despite of il-for-
tune, pride, poverty, to ask her for his own.
And so they plighted their faith one to the
other the blind girl and her lover. One
hour-almost one moment-had changed
their fate through life.
Philip Armytage went home full of deep
thought. His step was hrmer, his carriage
holder, for he felt that he was no longer a
lonely mamie was the guardian of anoth-
er's happiness-the object of womans price
less love. He had not only to think of him
SELF but of her who trusted him-who pla-
ced her face in his keeping Since yester-
day, his whole thoughts were changed even
his worldly prospects seemed brighter now
that Stella loved him, and that his fortunes
might one day be linked with hers. Power
ty looked dim in the distance; he felt a
proud consciousness of his own powers; it
seemed that he could brave all things-do
all things, if Stella might one day be his
wife, The glamor of love overspead all he
looked upon and with these delicious feel
ings, Philip Armytage, before he slept, sat
down, and wrote letter to Mr. Brandreth,
asking Stella's hand.
1t was refused The father, though not
unkind, was firm. He regretted his own
error in not having forseen the end of such
a friendship, and courteously, but resolute-
| ly refused to sanction marriage or even
betrothal, so wild and imprudent.
The lover read the cold, the formal epis-
tie through twice, before he comprehended
it clearly it came like ice upon fire. The
sensible, right minded Philip Armytage was
still under the influence of that sweet, be-
wildered love-dream. Yet, there the words
were-frcezing and plain" that man
without riches should never be the husband
of Stella Brandreth." His spirit sank with
in him; he covered his face, and the burn
ing tears, so seldom wrung from manhood,
stole through his fingers. How well he low
ed the poor blind girl
Night found him still pacing his chamber
in utter desolation of heart. Then he yearn
ed once more to look upon the face of hel
he loved. He longed to tell Stella that he
had not forsaken her-that he would never
love any but her. Under cover of darkness:
he stole to her home-crept along the grass
to the window of the room where he anC
Stella had so often sat the light, through
the halfdrawn curtains, showed that she
|
ness of her face and attitude he guessed
that she knew all. Philip touched the win
dow-it was a little way open, and in mo
ment he stood by her side.
Long and mournful was the conference
between the two; but when Philip spoke o
his departure for Italy, the girls sorrow a
mounted almost to agony.
Philip-Philip, do not leave me- she
cried imploringly-'I was so desolate 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
l shall die too, if lose you. Forsake mt
not-take me with you as your wife shal
fear nothng-shall regret nothing
Poor Stella she knew SO little of the
world and she was SO young-hardly more
than a child in years, and child in simpli
city. All that she felt was the anguish O
losing him who was the only one who made
life precious to her. She chung around his
neck, and besought him to stay, in spite o
her father-of every one.
Bitter, indeed, was the struggle in the
young mans bosom but the right triumph
ed at last. He would not commit so griev
GUS a sin as to bring sorrow and poverty or
the innocent creature who trusted him by
wedding her against her fathers will.
Stella, dearest, you do not know wha
YOU ask-we must part for while. Their,
never comes a blessing on disobedience
and God forbid that should be the one I,
steal child from her fathers arms even if
loved her as my hearts blood-and thus low,
| you, my own Stella
A deep flush of womanly shame crossed
the girls face. She drew herself from he
lovers arms, and stood upright.
Il have been wrong, Philip have for
gotten what owe to myself, to my father
to you forgive mel am very ignorant.
you are wiser and better than |. Forget al
this, and only remember that am blind anf
lonely, with no one to love me but you. 20
YOU are right l will strive to be content II
thinking how little | deserve to be loved Sc
well by one like you
Philip used all the sweet language of I
lover, to sooth and cheer her. He told he
that he would struggle for life and death, t.
gain that wealth which would enable him Il
win her--that she was so young-that moth
ing was impossible to love, and il might on
ly be few years before he could boldly
come and claim his bride.
ask no promise, but trust your love
my Stella; you will not doubt mine
Never, never murmured the girl. Blu
| need not say farewell now you will CONF