The Davenport gazette. [volume] (Davenport, Scott Co., Iowa) 1841-185?, 1852-05-13
From the Carpet Pag
THE BETROTHiL RING.
I.-UNDER A CLOUD,
By PAUL cREYToN.


'Oh. God am not dreaming? Can thi.
be rsail Have sense, thought, memory
sll?'
Utterng these passionate words, the
speaker pressed her thin hands 10 her
brow, while her bosom heaved with a wild
tempest Of grief, and her whole frame quiv-
cred and shook, Ms if n tortured soul were
s,rssra,ng 10 escape lis tenement ct clay
All! she was young creature TO have
endured 50 much sorrow! Not more than
twenty eight, il she was so old; pale, care
worn, clad in poor habiIimen,s, yet strange
" beautiful!
No wonder she cried. in the agony Other
soul sCan this be rea?' n, wonder she
doubted her own sanity, and pressed hel
brow, as ifto aid her sick and waverng
brain in the task Of realizl,ion.
For terrible indeed was the contrast be.
tween the past and present; the sunshine
Of yesterday md the cloud of today; the
happy scene to which her bewildered mem
ory travelled back, and the wretcliedness
around her, and the bitterness Of grief into
which her soul was plunged.
She was sitting upon broken chair in a
miserable garret. Her work had iallen
from her hands upon the bare, cold floor
By her side two children were sleeping, un
der tho thin, tal,ered covering Of her poor
bed.
|, was midnight. The wind howec
through the dreary streets; The storm lash
ed the low roof and narrow window Of the
dcsolate room with sleet and freezing
rain.
The scanty fire in the CRATE wns smoul-
dcring into dull and dc.olate ashes, and the
apartment was cold. cold md comfortless /;
aud the poor woman's sha wi had fallen from
her shoulders, unobservcd, and she sa,
there still.
|, would have chilled your blood 10 look
at her, 60 white, SO moiionless, so liko a
statue OF speechless grief!
Her hands fell, one by her side, the other
upon her lap. Her large eyes became fix
ed, gazing at the dying embers; yet not SC
much at the dying embers, as at something
beyond, something aiar of in the cmbers o
the past.
And oul of those embers she saw arise
visions bright and beautiful, scenes Of sun.
shine which painted with golden glow
even the dark and heavy cloud of sorrow
which overhung her present-a fairy-land
ofbliss, YOU would have called il, which I'll,
led all the cold and comforiless apartment
and in which she was lost, clairvoy ant ex
poring the realm Of dear and tender mem
ories.
Let us question her, 10 know what she
sees, not with those large, touchingly beau
tllul eyes, but with the eyes of her spirit,
Of which those are but the typo.
A young girl, Just budding into woman
hood, is the most prominent figure. She i.
so beautiful that the heart feels pnng ol
pleasure looking al her, SO happy that yo,
would say the darkest trouble that evel
threw its shadow over her youth, was nc
more u trouble than the golden fleece which
hoats about the glory Of sunset, is
cloud!
She is in the midst of garden. She il
bending over lowly flower and blushing
io' handsome youth is bending over her
and talking eloquently Of love.
She raises her head now. With n smile
oil happiness on her lip, and a tear Of nap
p'ness in her eye, she gives the youth he
hand.
His fine face is all alive with the low
and devotion of his heart. lie cannot ute
his thanks for tho silent expression of sen
'Imen,, the gift Of tho hand, which ha:
made him so happy. IIo draws her gently
within the shadows Of an arbor, then fond
y 10 his heart, and kiss has sealed ,hel
betro,hal.
There is slight change Of scene. On
or two'days appear TO have passed. Th
youth is once more with the maiden. FL
holds her beautiful hand. There is ,h
same smile on her lips the same tear il