The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1850-11-12

fate. Upon one thing she was resolved ;
the bane of her existence, her abominable
fits of passion, should never again ruille the
evenness Of her temper: she would conquer
herself, if the effort killed her.
I must be patient said the unhappy Lu.
cy to herself. Il have no one TO blame but
myself My misery is my own creation,
and it is Just that should suffer. viii be
patient, then, and resigned
But oh, it was hard task, for young
wife and fond mother to live divided from
her husband and child, with no bright spot
in the sky of the future, on which to look
and repose her hopes with no consolation,
no friend in whom to confde and find com
fort.
Dreafy indeed was Lucy's life, but never
did she complain. She suffered in silence,
and endured with patience her wreiched lot,
She seemed plunged into the deepest hum-
;ation. and her face wore ever the mourning
apparel of her heart. 1t is impossible to
looked back upon her past fits OF passion
Five years of sorrow, regret and humilia-
ton, rolled their heavy burdens over Lucy's
heart. During this time she had written
frequently to her husband, through Mr. Gray
and received no reply to her letters. All
she knew of her husband was, that she re-
ceived every quarter an allowance which
she knew came from him. Had he left her
to starve, her remorse could not have equal
led that which this manifestation of his
goodness four times year, kindled in her
heart
One day, however, Lucy was surprised
by visit from Mr.. Gray.
Mrs. Mowbray,' said he, abruptly, Il
come to you with a message from your hus
band
The blood flowed back upon Lucy's heart
almost suliocating her then it rushed again
to her brain, causing it to reel with dizzi-
ness. The sudden intelligence quite over
powered her, aad she sank upon the SOFA
She could not speak, bu! her clasped hands
implored Mr.. Gray to 20 on.
Your child said he, coloring zig dying
If you wish to see her, so with me-
What Lucy did after hearing this astound
ing intelligence, she knew not but Mr..
Gray declared. afterwards, that she was
completely out of her senses. She wished
to go-to ny-without moments thought
or preparation, and would have left The
house without, so much as her bonnet or
shawl had he not taken her under his care.
said Lucy knew nothing of this when she
recovered her consciousness, she was riding
with her husbands agent in a carriage.
The journey seemed to Lucy like wild
dream. She afterwards recalled something
of what she had seen, and dimly remember
cd riding on the highway, when the sun was
shining brightly and the birds were singing.
She also had some recollection of the speed,
clatter and dizzy rocking of the railroad
cars; but not until she found herself at her
journeys end, was she fully conscious of all
she saw around her.
Lucy was in her husbands arms. The
hot tears, she shed upon his bosom relieved
her heart, and cooled the fever of her
brain.
Lucy said William, kindly, calm your
self l have sent for you to behold your
child before she dies. She is very i'll
Lucy was stung again. Her eyes flashed
wildly through her tears.
Where is she p she cried. 'Oh, roy
darling my Lucy p
William led the way. Upon curtained
bed, in a dark and silent room, the little suf.
fcrer lay. She was asleep.
Be calm l--softly murmured William.
But already the strong impulse of mother
ly affection had carried Lucy to the bedside
Of her child. She clasped the sufferer in
her arms, scalding tears falling upon the
child's pale face, awoke her. She was not
frightened; but seemed to understand the
meaning of it all. Extending her feeble
arms, little Lucy twined them about her
mothers neck.
William approached, but not word wa.
spoken. Silence was only interrupted by
the sobs of the mother,and the frail murmul
of welcome Of her child William gazed q
moment, but tears blinded him, and he turn.
cd away.
Are you indeed my mother p asked lit
tie Lucy, in feeble tone.
'Yes-yes, my darling child am you
mother oh, my darling
What more was said cannot here be writ
ten. 1t was the natural language of stronl
affection and deep passion, which none car
interpret; it was poetry too sublime for ex
presson-eloquence, whose power can onl,
be imagined.
Again Lucy was at her husbands feet
1t was too much for even his stern nature
lie had Known of her patience and humilo
tion, and now his heart relented. lie raise
her into his arms, he forgave her--and, a
the love and devotion of former years rusl
ing with renewed power upon his soul, h
pressed her passionately to his heart.
Lucy felt that her repentance had atoneC
in some measure, for her faults her hu.
bands kindness treasured her a mountain
Gus weight of wrelcbedness was lifted frol
her heart, and the light of hope illumine
all its darkness. Inspired by love, joy an
faith, she arose, beautiful in the strength
her woman's soul, which seemed endowe
with new life, and power yet untried