The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1851-03-20
EBENsBURG, THURSDAY, MARCH 90 1851.

sue mas not "epL OaI she is more silent
than before, save that her lips move in Sc
cret prayer. | have litlle more to tell.
My father became completely imbecile,
and at the same time losI nearly the whole
of our little property. | have succeeded
in coneealing this loss from my parents;
making money for their support by selling
my embroidery. | have no one to speak
to since my sisters death; | love books,
bu! have no time for reading-I must
work. 1t is only on Sunday that |
breathe the fresh air; and do not walk
far, as | am alone. Some year since,
when | was very young, used 10 dream
while [ sat in this window. | peopled
the solitude with thousand visions which
frightened the dark hours. Now a sort of
numbness has fallen on my thonghts-I
dream no more. While l was young, |
used TO hope for some change in my des-
tiny; now | am twenly-nine years old, and
sorrow has chasgened nv spirit: | no lon
ger hope or fear. In this place | shall
finish my lonely days. Do not think that
| have found resignation without a conflict.
There were times when my heart revolted
at living without being loved. but thought
OF Marlha's gentle words, We shall meet
again, sister, and lound peace. Now |
often Pray-I seldom weep. And you,
madam-are you happy?"
| did not answer this question of Ursu
las. Speaking 10 her of happiness would
be like talking Of an ungreatful friend to
one whom he had deserted.
Some months aflerward. on fine au-
tamn morning, as | was preparing 10 go to
Ursula, | received visit frcm young
officer who had lately Joined the garrison.
He was the son Of an ola friend of my
husbands, and we both felt lively inter-
est in his welfare. Seeing me prepared
for walk, he offered his arm, and we pro-
ceeded toward the dwelling of Ursula |
chanced Ia speak OF her: and as the Young
officer, whom shall call Maurice d ErvaI,
seemed 10 take an interest in her story. |
related It 10 him as we walked SLOWLY
along. When we reached the old gray
house he looked At her with pity and re-
spect, saiu,ed her, aud Withdrew. Ursu-
Ia, startled at the presence OF q stranger.
bushed slightly. 81 that moment she
looked almost beautiful. ! know not
what vague ideas crossed my brain, but
looked al her, and ghen, without speaking,
a
more becoming form, tool; I narrow
black Velvet collar of my >Tn neck, and
passed It round hers, and arranged few
brilliant flowers in her gicd1e. Ursula
smiled without understanding why | did
50; her smile always panied me-there Is
nothing more sad than the smile of the un-
happy. They seem TO smile for others,
no! tor themselves. Many days passed
without my seeing Maurice d'Erval, and
many more before chance led us together
near lhe old gray house.
Itwas on our return from 4 country ex-
cursion with large gay party. On enter
ing the town, we all disappeared in differ
ent directions: 1 took the arm of Maurice,
and led him towards Ursula's abode. Ii
was one OF those soft, calm autumn even
lngs, when the snii trees are colored By
the rays OF the setting sun, and every thing
brealhes repose. 1t is time when the
soul IS sOiteued, when we become better.
when we feel ready to weep without the
bitterness OF sorrow. Ursula, as usual.
was seated al the window. A slanting
ray OF sunshine falling on her head lent
an unwonted lustre 10 her dark hair: her
eyes frightened when she saw me. and she
smiled her own sad smile. Her sombre
dress showed 10 advantage her slender,
notwithstanding figure. and bunch of
vloiets, her layorite flower, was fastened
In her bosom. There was something in
The whole appearance of Ursula which
suited harmoniously the calm, and beauty
oi the evening, and my companion felt it.
As We approached, he fixed his eyes on the
poor girl, who, timid as a child Of fifteen
hung down her head, and blushed deeply.
Maurice stopped, exchanged a few words
with us both, aud then took his leave.
But from that time he constantly passed
Though the narrow alley, and paused each
time for moment 20 salute Ursula. One
day, accompanied by me, he entered her
house.
There are hearts in this world so unac
customed to hope, that they can not com
Prehend happiness when it comes to Them.
Enveioped III her sadness, which, like a
thick vail, hid from her slght all external
things, Ursula neither saw nor understood.
She remained under the eyes of Maurice
as under mine-dejected and resigned.
As TO the young man, could not clearly
make out what was passing in his mind
1t was not love for Ursula, at least so [
thought, but 1t was that tender pity which
is nearly allied 10. The romantic soul OF
Maurice pleased itself in the atmosphere
OF sadness which surrounded Ursula
Gradually they began TO converse; and in