The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-09-04
CHAPTER II.

| CHAPTER II.
And how was IL with Gervaise Wylverton
Was his heart, indeed, whole and hard az his own
unscathed blocks Of marble, as his ancient kns-
woman had asserted Perhaps she judged from
his face that had been, for years and years, calm,
pale placid as the antique bust This one TREASURED
that ornamented the shelf in his little sitting
room hut his heart--God alone could look upon
that God alone knew its hidden history.
He knew that Rosamond Dalrymple was dead,
and that she was 10 be buried that afternoon, by
the side of her parents, but he did not 90 10 the
funeral. Why should he7 Rosamond Golding-
his Rosebud as be loved to call her-he had
buried, with inezpressible agony Of heart, more
than fifty years before, heaping over her all the
withered hopes and dreams that he had gathered
on the ways Of life, that spring so thckly in the
rich soil Of youth and what was yonder cold,
worldly minded woman, over whose shrunken re-
mains the olods of earth we're even then falling,
| TO him7
So he thought-so he muttered-but there was
something in the solemn peal Of the bell as II stole
up the green ascent TO where his house hung
perched like birds nest amid the rocks-per.
chance the tremulOus vibration brought a breath
of perfume from the grave Of early hopes-that
gave a strange unsteadiness 10 his hand as he
sought to carve, on small marble slab before him,
the winning invitation that was TO comfort some
bereaved mothers heart" Suffer little children
TO come unto me, and forbid them not, for Of such
is the kingdom Of heaven"
After one or two futile attempts, he paused, and,
running his shrunken fingers along The edge Of
the chisel, murmured
g Methinks the tool Is strangely dull to-day y
II was not that the instrument was dull, bu,
that that Of memory was sharp; and half cen.
fury OF patient suffering fell back upon IL, like
the waters OF Jordan, and, passing once over the
dark chasm, the old man stood again amid the
days Of his youth-those happy days when
"Silent who treads new.falen snow
Love came between him and Rose Golding, gath.
ering up the fragile threads Of childish friend.
ship, and twisting them into that strong, golden
cord, which was, rs be fondly dreamed, 40 hold
from thence through all the worldsp Those bless.
ed hours during which she rooted herself In his
heart, glorious bud, rich In promise of beauty
that was 10 enhalo all the coming time and how
proudly he cherished the thought, how 1t shaped
ali his aims and ends, and made the air Of life de-
icious, that he should shelter her there, day and
night, In storm and In sunshine, through time
and through eternity.
Gervaise Wylyerton fingered long over these
memories-and shall we blame hint We who
know how sweet Is the first draught from the COB
let Of life we who have turned with averted eye'
and reluctant hands from that bitter one, which
sooner or later, every human soul must quaG, even
though we feel that
lie who has not learned 10 know
How bitter are the drops Of vo,
With which its brim may overflow,
Has not yet learned 10 live
But Gervaise had long since learned this lesson
For years aud years those bitter drops bad min
gled with bis lifs-blood, and yet he shuddered ~
be recalled the hour when they first stained hi
lips-thai hour when the rich but half imbecil'
John Dalrymple, struck with the fresh, dew)
beauty Of hts hostess's daughter, announced him
self her sutton, In the same tone that he would
have announced a preference for any new 10Y tina
pleased his pampsred fancy.