Burlington hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1845-185?, 1851-08-21
The Daughter Of Night:
STORY THE PRESENT TIME
BY s. w. FULLoM,
CHAPTER XXXVu.

mouse IN low and mourntul gusts. piercing ever,
cre',ce, and siighing down the long Passages lik,
chamber lay the fragile form spirit had so late.
ly tenanted, now forever still, cold, lifeess.
Millicent entered, screening with her hand tn,
ilickering taper, which, throwing all its light o.
her face, showed her pale as ashes. With noise.
less step, she advanced hurriedly for few PAGES
and then suddenly stopped.
Before her, covered with an ample sheet, mark.
ed too plainly with the dread outlines, was all
that remained Of the dear and honored being tc
whom she gave more than chlds love- Neve,
again should those gentle eyes shed their milJ
beams on her-those lips bless. those hands ca
ress her. And how strange that her deep sor.
row, dictated by the purest affection, should be
tlnctured with fear, as, removing the sheet. she
looked on the white face of the corpse
lnsci iutable, solemn. terrible mystery! to be
contemplated only with timid and half averted
giances, even by eyes bedewed with tears Per-
haps it is, that among those to whom the pres
ence of death is not familiar, there is an appre-
hension that the disembodied soul still fingers
nigh, Invisible but observant. and nature shrinks
from fellowship so awful. Bat whatever it may
be, there is certainly shadow, dark terror.
wrapped like pail round the dead, which makes
! Itself felt in the bo!dest heart. Such was the
feeling that invomntarily overcame Micent
Conqucring reluctance, she bent over the corpse
and pressed her lips on its marble forehcad. The
cold, stagnant flesh no longer yielded to her kiss.
and she drew back with renewed outburst of
grief.
Fondly did she recall, with diligence never
TO be wearied, all the maternal tenderness. the
loving expressions, and the immense obligations.
conferred upon her so lavishly by her departed
friend. even dwelling gratefully on her last gen.
erous intention, unfinished and frustrated though
it was, and scarcely suffering herself TO give a
thought to her own situation. and the cheerless
prospect before her. And yet she could not en-
tirely repel the reflection that she was now house.
less friendless. penness. 1t intruded itself fire.
| quently, like the suggestion of an evil genius.
giving gloomy prominence to her reverse of
fortune, and suggesting despair. But store Of
resolute, self-relying qualities, sunk like rich
mine in the secret resources Of her heart, nerved
and emboldened her. She was prepared willing
ly to renew the arduous struggle of existence :;
and already saw the exertions she was determin-
ed 10 make, in accordance with schemes long
dreamt of, crowned with success-as if mere
merit could ever be victor without mighty con-
/ testi
1t was long before she dragged herself away.
and retiring to her own room. went to bed Even
then her thoughts remained in the chamber of
death, lowering round that inanimate but loved
form and it was not till morning peeped smiling
through the lattice, like promise Of good. that
she fell asleep.
| She arose, refreshed. but still. as she must long
] be, overwhelmed by her bereavement. Her gen
/ tie aud ailectionate spirit. PROSTATE. crushed,
writhed under the same agonizng thoughts. the
| same inconsolab!e sorrow, and for honrs she sat
perfectly mo'ionless, unmindful aud forgetful of
everything around. At length her reverie was
| interrupted by visit from Mr. Anderson.
! The vicar, under GOODNESS of manner very re-
/ pelEng, had, when interested, a considerable
share of good feeling, and it was with an unusual
! degree of kIndliness and gentleness that he now
condo!ed with Millicen, opportunely reminding
her of the comforting assurances of religion, new
! er more soothing than in such moments, when,
indeed. III the utter wreck of worldly consoia-
tons. the heart can be reached ty no other.
II think il only right to tell you, Miss Rennell.'
! he sad seeing Mllicent was more composed
that | have written TO Mrs Gran,lcv,s brother.
! Sir Hidrcd Vavasour. who is heir at law to ac.
/ quaint him with the circumstances of her death
/ and think we may expect him very shortly.''
! Milljcent slightly inclined her head.
! when he docs come" resumed the vicar. Il
! shall inform him what was his sisters intentions
| respecting vou, and though intentions go for no.
! thing i'll law, | have doubt that, as a man of
honor and probitv, he will so far attend to Mrs
/ Grantley's wishes as 10 make handsome settle
ment upon yol.'
'.Oh, pray do not speak of such a thing to him."
replied Miilicent. quickly. Il do not wish 1t
! from him, could not accept it,"
''You know him then?"
Il have seen him oncc.''
''And your impressions of him, suppose, are
not of an agreeable kind?''
| II have no right to complain of him. As Mrs
| Grantlcy's brother, he must always command my
respect. but there are circumstances too painful
| to mention now, which would prevent my accept
ing any favor from him, particularly such an one
as you propose"
| ''But morally speaking, my dear young lady,
it is your right, though one that cannot be en-
forced. To abandon or repudiate it, for the sake
of a false punctl;o, would, in your situation, be
little short of insanity. | speak i'll this strong
manner because I am afraid from the DISPOSE
ton you manifest. yoa are binding yourself to
the necessities Of your position, which, let me
remind you, very serious" Mr. Anderson
prlded himself on telling dsagrceable truths blunt
! ly, which he called being sincere.
| "Be assured, sir" replied Mlllicent, moved at
his roaghness, 81 am not insensible Of my sad
| position; but it is no more than am ready to
meet. The education have received will enable
me, by diligence and attention, to earn respec-
table livelihood; and hope soon TO procure a
situation, which will place me, at least, above
WANT
I IL am glad to hear yori say so' returned Mr.
Anderson. more kitidly--for he thought she evin-
ced la,,dable desire not TO overstep her station
$50 long as your independence proceeds from
right principle, and not from foolish feeling of
pride, can endure and applaud it; and, believe
me, shall have great pleasure in furthering your
views, If it should be in my power. Still, pro-
vision to fall back upon in case of disaster, is no
hindrance and, therefore, | must insist on ma
ming the matter to Sir Hildred.''
''Should you 10 so, You will oblige me to dis
claim my having any part in it, said Millicent.
'sOh leave all that to me-" answered Mr. AL
derson. 'sI presume you will remain here till af-
ter the funeral
eyes, if am permitted. It would be salts
faction to me to see the - but the thought Of
| that melancholy and dreaded moment, when the
remains Of her generous protectress must be con-
signed to the tomb, checked her utterance.
"Cf course no one will interfere with you,'
said Mr. Anderson. "But Sir Hildred will be
here o-morrow, and then every thing can be set
tled.''
The morrow came, however, without bringing
Sir Hildred, and as the matter was too urgent for
delay, Mr. Anderson despatched second express
informing him that the day was fixed for the FIJI
neral, and inquiring if he would attend it. Still
there was no answer, although the messenger. to
prevent mistakes, delivered the letter to Sir Hill
dred himself, and requested Instructions.
On the evening before the day so long dreaded
vet so speedily reached, Millicent, for the first
time since Mrs Grantley's death. went out for a
walk As the moment was fast approaching
when she must quit Winstone for ever, the
thought occurred 10 her that she should pay one
more visit to the village, cross the foot path over
the meadow, which she had so often traversed
with Mrs Grantley, and look again over the lit
tie common beyond-scenes become familiar,