New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-08-23
MONDAY MORNING, AUGUST aa, 1855

meaning state in the sunken black eyes, as they
looked from one face to another, that we all half
repented our rash undertaking.
turban Of soiled and faded black silk cov-
cred the hair, except a few struggling locks
which crept over the shrivelled neck behind, and
these we're as white as snow. A dress of the
same worn material, but of scanty dimensions,
fell loosely about the withered frame, and the
hard tanned feet were without shoe The
stern woman sat upon the only stool the hut
contained when we entered, but as We approach /
ed she slowly rose, and without a word, looked
for moment steadily into each young face, till |
at last her queer eyes fell upon the pale cheek
of May Morton, who happened TO Be the last to |
enter. look of seeming consciousness passed |
over the swarthy features, and | fancied that
malignant smile lurked upon her thin lips; but, |
without further delay she proceeded with her
business, grasping one white palm after another,
and muttering her foolish, meaningless words.
AT last came May Morton; and as the old
woman took her fair hand within her own with
cred fingers, and looked for moment over the
lines delicately traced within it, ! fancied q
shudder passed over the sweet girls frame, and
that her white cheek grew paler. 1t was long
time the deep wild eyes glanced over that snowy
palm, and at last she spoke in a low, solemn
tone, and without moving her fixed gaze an in
stant 's Sorrow and anguish are for thee; he
whom thou lowest most on earth will prove false
to thee-is false and already loves another. The
dark sea divides you, and the ocean will never
bring back the treasure it bore away. Thy
lover is base, maiden thou must forget him or
did, CO.
With light and noiseless tread, and almost
throbless hearts, we passed under that swinging
| drapery again, and once more were breathing
the free air. No voice disturbed the stiffness as
we wound our way through that tangled shrub
berry back to the little grotto for chill seemed
| to have fallen upon each heart, Once or twice
Susan Claire, who led the way turned her dark
eyes back upon us, and opened her lips as she
tried to smile; but one glance at the white face
| of May Morton, cold and almost rigid in its
paleness kept her silent.
We reached the arbor at last, and all sat
down on the green sward Then, for the first
| time. voice broke the silence 1t was that Of
Clara Day. She wound her arms around the
neck of sweet May Morton, and pressed her lips
to the cold cheek, while she said as cheerfully
as possible, GO Dear May, will you let that fool
ish old woman's idle words trouble you, will
you: All, do not; you know she knows nothing
about Henry Mortimer, and why will you heed
what she,has said p
| We all gathered about the pale girl. now that
the spell was broken, and implored her to speak
to us, to say she would not mind the cruel
words. We knew how dearly Henry was be-
loved, and how crushing to the poor girls heart
would be q knowledge of his perfdy. We knew,
too, that he was all that was noble and gener-
Gus, and his heart was bound up in the fair
being he had loved from childhood How then
could we deem him false how believe him in
CONSTANT He was not-we knew it; and we
finally made May believe it too. She smiled
family, and then she wept hysterically; but at
length she arose very calm and composed, and
we took our way back to the village, but with
hearts much heavier and faces much sadder
than when we left it hours before.
Henry Mortimer was an orphan cousin OF May
Morton's, one whom her father had taken to his
heart and home in early childhood, and who had
ever shared the love of both her parents. After
finishing his studies at one of the first schools in
the State, he had entered his uncle's store as
clerk, and for two years relieved him Of many
cares and anxieties; for Mr. Morton had passed
the meridian of life, and with coming age haC
crept along also increasing labors in business
and he was glad to share his burden with tn
noble and high-minded boy, whose character hi
r influence and means had helped to form. Blu
:, at length the health of the young man becam
: impaired, aud his watchful friends saw wit
J. alarm that his cheek greg pale and his ste
y heavy; SO, about year before the time OF whic
a | l write, he had left the quiet shades of Maple
t vile, and the kind hearts which were bound
d him most tenderly, and embarked on the hroa
$ ocean to endeayor to regain the great blessin
e which had so suddenly left him. The captain {
J the vessel in which Mortimer sailed from his na
y tive shore, was an old intimate friend of Nh
!, Morton, and had promised his care and atten
y ton for the youth; and in one year from tn
e time Of his departure from his happy home, Il
1 was to return and claim the hand of dear May
. whose heart had so long and tondly been hi
n own. The months passed away, and often cam
It to the home of the NIortons messages from tn
: loved and absent-lines from the bosom of tn
d great deep, or penned ON some foreign shore
It containing assurances of recovering health,
e happiness and contentment. One little yea
h how quickly it would pass! and then the wal
G derer would be united again to those he love-
IL That bright summer wore away; its ros
= bloomed and faded, and the soft autumnal tin
lie arrived, when the deep green foliage of the 70
e est and hillside was becoming sprinkled oy
ID with yellow and crimson, when the skies wore
|, deeper blue, and the quiet lakes seemed slur
lie bering and dreaming in the mellow light. v
W had passed q Joyous time among the glens al
shadows and peaceful valleys of Mapleyille, al
Ks should have been very happy, had not the chee
vt full voice Of one Of our number, the gayest al
7, most gladstone, taken tone of sadness and
lie cheek that had We'd with the blushing roses
rs her own fairy garden, been all the while tur
lr ing paler and paler Dear May Morton! s.
I'd could not throw Off the spell that had boul
her: she could not forget those cold and cru
~ NoIdS9 alu VIC stIpSe W Jun iiet SSi-A
es tive mind from the mournful theme of its COZ
stant thought; though we laughed and led h
,h from vale to meadow, gathering the fairest
lie wild flowers and wreathing them in her dal
lg hair, she would give us but a forced and mela
n choly smile in return, and q sigh that seem
b. breaking her poor heart.
er As the year of Henry Mortimer's sojourni
at drew near it's end, and the time of his expect
arrival approached, the conflict in Mays mi
1t, became almost fearful. Mr.. and Mrs. Mort
id had watched with anxious fear the change
IS their child, but were entirely ignorant of
ot cause. They attributed it in some measure
rd the silence Of Mortimer; for, for several mont
r. they had not heard from him, and they VIZ
he also beginning to tremble for his safety.
ct. There was another who watched the altei
he ton in May with little less concern than that
r. her own parents, but whose feelings were mi
re gled with deep remorse and distress.
lis George Forest was young man who had c
he tered the store Of Mr. Morton short tn
before the departure Of Mortimer, and from
We first meeting with May, he had offered her t
rm most marked attentions. At first she turn
n; kindly, but resolutely from his advances;
nd when he persevered in his course, and follow
lid her in her morning and evening walks, haunt
his her like her own shadow. dislike took the plf
llk of former Indifference, and she looked upon
proud, self willed youth with kind OF loathll
M When the autumn winds were signing pla
the lively through the scared and faded foliage,
full the birds fingered with a mourning song o
the the departing glories of summer, a sudden
md ness brought Forest to the verge Of the gra
/ 81, l,,,,,l Il pr1