Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1849-02-22

: am unable to trace the adventures of
a Richard Temple in London; but they APP
: pear to have been comparatively fortunate,
: since at the end of only three years, he was
G junior partner in young but respectable
r firm. He had seen Miss Hargrave several
a times during the interval; but | need not
say that their intercourse had entirely chang
S ed its character Richard was not only in
: terested, but likewise in some degree anus
S ed, by the transmutation of the young girl
: into the demure and circumspect Quaker
b In essentials, however, she was not altered,
] but improved and exalted and even her
3, physical beauty acquired new character of
r loneliness as the Development of her moral
: feelings went on. But over all, there was
what seemed to the young man, now that
he was accustomed to the common world
h an icyness of manner, which repealed his
f advances; and he continued to love on
S without daring to disclose the secret of his
h bosom. What matter! 1t was no secret to
G her whom it concerned for Martha, with
{ all her occurrences, had IL woman's heart
4 and woman's eyes. At the end of the
three years have mentioned Mrs. Temple
| died, and Richard, now only in the world
Y and with tolerable prospects in business, be-
, gan in due time to ask himself, with qua
5 king heart and blushing brow, whether it
were possible for him to obtain the Quaker
, girl for his bride. After much cogitation
on this subject and thousand misgivings,
his characteristic daring prevailed; and adj
, dressing to Martha an eloquent history of
his love- accompanied by frank statement
: of his affairs and prospect, and solicitation
f,,r, hnr Co. l., 1.
enclosed the letter, open, in briefer one to
her father, and despatched the fatal missive.
The reply came from Mr.. Hargrave. 1t
was cold, calm, decisive He was obliged
by the good opinion entertained by his young
friend of his daughter, but Martha had al
together different views. Setting aside this
world, which would in itself be an insur-
mountable objection, their religious views
were not so much alike as was necessary in
the case of two persons pressing forward,
side by side, to the world which is to come.
He hoped friend Richard would speedily
forget what. to a rational minded person,
ought to be hardly disappointment, and
when bis fortune permitted it, select from
his own denomination wife of his own de-
gree This insolent letter, as the young
man termed it, had no effect but that of
rousng the fierce and headlong energy of
his nature He knew Martha too well to
believe that she had any share in such
production and he wrote at once to Mr..
Hargrave to say that his daughter was now
f old enough to decide for herself, and that he
could not think of receiving at second hand
reply involving the happiness or misery
of his whole life On the following day he
would present himself at his house in Elms
Cross, in the hope of hearing his fate from
Martha's own lips, even i'll the presence of
f her father and mother.
When Richard Temple passed across the
, Dutch like lawn of the house, with its drill
t ed shrubs aud flowers describing mathemat-
ca figures on its level green, and ascended
the steps, as white as driven snow, his hand
: trembed as he raised the knocker, and he
felt his heart die within him. The sound
= he made startled him by its incongruous
+ want of measure, and he looked round tim
idly, as if he had committed an indecorum.
e When the respectable midde-aged servant
; marshalled him up stairs to the drawing
e room, he followed the man with Difference,
f as if he had something to say in the decls-
!, ion The room was empty, and he stood
e for sometime alone, looking around upon
S the walls, the furniture, the books, the flow
= ers, and reading in them all the ruin of his
e hopes. There was AN unostentatious rich
: ness in that room, method in its arrange
n ment, calm assumption of superiority
n which made him quail, The answer he
n came to demand was before him. 1t spoke
IS to him even in the whispered cadence o.
1t the trees beyond the open windows, and the
q unhurried entrance of the air into the IA
d partment, loaded with faint sweets from the
e garden. The loneliness in which he stood
lie seemed strange to his excited imagination
% and the silence oppressed him; when a
" length the door slowly opened, unaccompa
v MED by the sound of football, he started
e. in nervous tremor, as if he expected to be
TT hold the entrance of spirit.
Martha entered the room alone, and shut
to ting the door, glided composedly up to Rich
lg ard, and offered him he hand as usual
The clasp, though gentle, was palpable ant
III as he saw in the first place, that she wa
d. paler than formerly, and, in the second, tina
e. slight color rose into her face under hi
- searching gaze, he was sufficiently reassur
es ed to address her.
re Martha" he said, did my letter sur
I'd prise you ?-tell me only that it was too all
oil rupt--tndt IL StaTucu anu iulllcu yOu-
in Was it not so 2"
e. "Nay, Richard"
o. "Then you knew, even before dared t
ne speak, that ! loved you with all the guile
o. lessness of my infancy, all the fire of m
of youth, and all the deep, earnest, concentra
e. ted passion of my manhood. Do you kno'
he the reply my letter received"
ed Yes, Richard"
tn "And you sanctioned it"
de In meaning" but here her voice slight
no faltered "if the words were unkind,
ed thou assured that they came neither fror
on my pen nor my heart"
b. "rhen was deceived in supposing-fc
lis did indulge the dream-that my devotio
IT. had awakened an interest in your bosom
us That interest belongs to anotherW
be 81 never had had a dearer friendshi
Is than thine p said Martha and raising he
Ter eyes to his, she added, after pause, in tn
Up clear, distinct, silvery tone which was tn
= character of her voice, " and never shall |!
on "Yet you reject and spurn me That
I'D torture! 1t cannot be that the difierenc
Ter in our worldly circumstances weighs wit