Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1847-09-09

lily. If you really loved me you would not SC
coldly pronounce sentence of Punishment
If love you not, then why this confidence
which | would not bestow upon another Why
the promise / have made to live henceforth fol
you alone, to love no other, though you are ial
away? You have not yet read my nature
Would you wish to take me to cherries home,
like that of my childhood We are both proud
think you we could be happy in such home!
Dear Victor, am not right
IF this is your decision, l must bow to your
decree. Perhaps all will be for the best The
avowal have heard tonight will make me hap
ply through days of absence; and if you insist
upon it will make every effort to win that
wealth which you think so desirable. But, Lau-
ra, dearest, l have hoped that you would even
now be willing to share my fate. have dream
/ ed of a humber home than that which is now
YOURS but one which should be made beautiful
by our love for it, | could cheerully pass the
IiveIong day in cure if, at its close, could meet
your smile and voice to cheer me on. Then as
years rolled over us, could win wealth by
slow but constant stream which should flow in
upon us. Though the first years of our welded
life should be passed in quiet retirement, the toll
Of those years would produce an abundant har-
vest, aud the autumn of our lives be spent in
pleasure or repose.
1T is beautiful Dream was her reply, 'but
in real life it would not seem so bright. The
ideal is ever clothed in more brilliant lines than
the actual wears know that no home can be
happy where love is not but | do not believe
even love is proof against want and misery Let
us each repose confidence in the others truth,
and pursue the path that lies before us, trusting
that the time may cone when love, wealth and
fame shall reward the perseverance of years.
The shall our home be as bright as our dreams
Of it, and the shadows that now rest upon us
vanish in the light Of prosperity. But we have
fingered here too long and must return to the
parlor, or our absence will be noticed. | must
seem gay and heartless as before, but let this
truth be impressed upon your memory, 81 change
but in dying" and you will never dstrust me-
i They returned to the parlor, but no one
dreamed Of the change that had been wrough
in that short period of absence upon their desti
f MES The following day they pmted to NEE
again--they knew not when or where.
! The party were gone, and quiet once NOR
i reigned in the old mansion. The hours of Mrs
Percy and her neice were spent in their domes
, tic cares, reading or needIe-work, varied by al
f occasional visit from the neighboring families, o
b, friends from the city, Henry had ceased t
n think of Victor and Laura, for happiness is sci
fish, and he had no Joy like that Of anticipation
/ Before they left, he had won the love Of Mar
n Graham, and the consent Of her parents thu
d she should be his bride, Nor was his mothe
j. less happy in the prospect of his fortunate ma
l. riage, for she had loved the gentle girl scarceI
it less than he This care of her heart at res
h she had nothing to prevent her from feeling
2, deep interest in Laura's welfare. She had NJ
d tced the intimacy existing between Victor an
r Laura with pleasure, and was surprzed at VIII
s. she considered its abrupt termination In val
1t she attempted to WIN her confidence in this pa
n ticuar for she adroitly changed the topic of col
s. versaton when it led to this subject. The
rs was oentmes more of subdued genIeness
st her manners toward her friends than formerl
e and it seemed as if the pride of her nature WI
1t yielding to the gentle influence of newly AVA
J. ened affection. OF this affection she was III
2; willing to speak even to the friend who had bee
is like mother to her She received freque
IS letters from Victor, written in hurried scraW
y but breathing of hope and happiness. He W
o now in the practice of his profession in one
e. the western cities, and reapng rich harvest
ID wealth and fame. He wrote only of his su
ar cesses, and she on whom he had poured out Il
W whole treasures of his affection, thought only
Of his triumph. She could not see the pale st
IN dent, whom toll and study were robbing of /
W youth and healh nor did it once occur at VIII
ut a sacrifice of ease his laurels were won. s.
lit could not understand the superhuman ener
st that lmpelled him to exertions which stole t
TT, color from his cheek and lurrowed his lace wi
IN lines like those of age; and dreamed not tn
N while congratulating him upon his success, S
RS was tanning the flame that consumed his beir
i'd Though gay, and apparently trAng as ever,
re- the ranks of society, she nourisled at heart
ct lone ldolary, loving as such strong minds OIL
1y can love, till the passion became a part of l.
Ne, being,
for A year rolled away, and there was again
m joyous fete at the old mansion, for Henry Per
ew had brought his fair young BRIDE to his home.
we The bridal party from Philadelphia were
Mt same, with few exceptions, who had spent su
delightful season there hut one year beGo
'us and the reunion seemed so like that time Il
5h- they were scarcely conscious Of the days Il
In passed between There was, however, {
ie- blank which was felt by every one; and ma
Ter times the repetition of some sentiment uttel
The by Victor Somerville, sent a thrill Of delight
So the heart of Laura. No one who saw her
wv the star of that gay company, would have drea
ms ed that sorrow was ct her heart Her vo
ur- seemed, if possible, more rich and musical ii
Gus ever, and the songs she sung We're like the
;ed pourlngs of happy heart. Her step was Zig
ons EST in the dance, and her salles of wit W
roy brilliant and frequent The effort at selEct
mand was successful, and the party left with
ire her secret beino BETRAYED Yet whan tbov ii,