The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1852-07-15

light and colors so the cold stone can have no
conception Of love-
at would pain me to be esteemed by thee
incapable of love-that love, in strict sense,
which enables the weak to perform so much,
while to the strong il imparts new element oil
power and new spur to eloquence-if were
not convinced that the agitation OF the moment
extorted from thee the utterance. But even
the desire of friendship, at least tor the pres
| emit is not of sufficient weight when thy happi-
| ness is concerned Bear in mind, that thou
| mayest devote second human life to want
| and wretchedness that hitherto was used to
! splendor and abundance, and to whom nothing
is more strange than anxiety Tor daily bread !;
| to whom nothing would be more diihcult than
| to forego conyenienees and habits in which she
has lived from childhood. The state OF her
l health. perhaps, would hardly withstand the
claims and rough concerns of limited frugality,
of laborous housewifery, that would present a
constantly tormenting object to one unprac-
ticed, sickly. and much too high in rank for
thy condition in life"
"Didst thou not say that love is new ele-
ment of power!" asked Edmund.
"Eadmit that the wife, in fulfilment Of her
duties, from love to the husband, can undergo
much but would the husband feel easy there
with And now, finally, thou an artist, and
spoiled INDUCED man, thou wilt meet with
yexatiOns, poverty at the outset Of this am
certain and where would remain thy art III
conflict with cares! Genius in order to dis
play itself must be free If it IL to achieve
| anything great, must not waste labor for the
daily support Of life. must not be forced ~
work under the pressure of want. While the
balance is in oscillation, it moves but slowly,
but soon sinks enfeebed"
Enough said Edmund, "enough Of the
| sad picture Why dost thou so obstlnately
disturb my paradise, why nip the blossoms of
my Joys why strip OF tenderness a state whose
purity ought to be sacred to thee?"
In order to preserve thee in this holy ten
derness, to guard thee from bitter remembran-
ces There is yet time all is yet but dream,
a web of fancy. Tear asunder the weak
threads, lest they become chains Save thy
self from disgrace and slavery, for thou wilt
| disgrace thyself if thou proceedest further"
II disgrace myself" said Edmund and a
pride, never before felt, shot from his otherwise
mild and placid eyes IL will exalt her whom
love to be an object of envy, admiration,
and alteration Like the poet in his songs
will illustrate my beloved, create her anew,
and lift her up as the idol of the multitude"
| al know of few poets whose wives have had
their domestic cares and joys celebrated in
| lyric inspirations. Much oftener some unhap-
py propensity, some remuneration, remem-
brance, or longing has been the source of their
excellent productions. The purity Of resgna-
ton, not the contentmcnt Of possession, has
elected the sweet notes of their song d
Edmund looked silently detected. The blood
moved more languidly through his veins-he
felt himself too weak to resist
"Forgive Inc, Edmund, if to-day ! have
given thee severe lesson. 1t pains me to see
thee suffer but in anticipation Of thy future
gratitude, | can bear thy present GOODNESS.
Believe not that have taken this step from a
desire to Judge and find fault, which appears
to thee so nearly allied to my station, and re-
quiring me, according to thy idea, to act I'M
tenderly perhaps roughly. speak not, as you
suppose one blind might speak of light and
colors but in the spirit of one equally dear to
thee and me-of our departed father. His
principles are mine, and the inharmonious note
in his life, and which he never could avoid hear
ing, ought not to agitate thine also"
Edmund looked with surprise at his brother
What meanest thou?" said he, searchingly
urge me not my lips are sealed 1t is oft
oppressive to be the keeper of a secret. Desire
not the burden. Believe only that much lies
heavily and painfully on me- The last will OF
a father, the error of brother, the passionate
ardor of Hyppolith, the innocence and happi-
ness of sister, and my own serious life, which
thou believest free from agitation, but which
oft sheds tears under an iron mask"
| Adrian, my brother, my friend!" cried
Edmund, powerfully affected by the last words
themselves. and the wonderful tone of express
| sion. "Forgive. If misunderstood thy fidelity,
| if in nv blindness believed thou couldst un-
| feelingiy blame what thou hadst never known
Let it sufice,n answered Adrian, cordially
| pressing the hand Of his brother, "and let us
now 90 TO our mother have not seen her
| to-day she is now 80 much alone, we must
| seek to mitigate the severity of her separation
| from Lucie"
"And should not anxiety for sister under
| mine mothers pcace?" asked Edmund, as no
prepared to go out.
81 believe her situation affects her agreea-
bly,, Notwithstanding she knows the infamma-
bilty of Hyppolith, and that his passion over
leaps all accumulated objections This causes
her to feel somewhat solicitous for l.ucies fate
As preliminary, we must keep sister retired at
distance, till we have persuaded mother to
leave the city--this over-populous mass Of
stone-that only Expresses and adds to her soil
| tude'
The brothers now left the house, and betook
| themselves to the street where Mrs. Muller
dwelt They found her alone, and she met
them with the wish to visit the theatre that
evening Overcome with delight Edmund i'm
| medately FASTENED to the theatre to secure
seats. and being acquainted with the caterer,
desired him 10 reserve the box opposite Clio
ben's for his use.
| AT THE THEATRE
When Mrs Muller with her sons entered
the box set apart for them, the house was al
ready very full and she was obliged occasion
ably TO look for well known faces from between
thickly crowded heads. Being quite stran-
ger in the city, she was interested chiefly for
one object TO whom her anxiety and love were
confined Her glances over the assembly were
! consequently hasty in search of him. Baler
had answered her invitation to an interview in
the appointed house, merely in these words
Not to-day, dear mother am engaged the
| whole day in attendance on the Duke, and in
the evening with company at tho theatre.
Another time, as soon ~ you may wish it, !
will be ready. b."
Mrs Muller thought that hint was given
in these lines, and her conclusion was fixed to
90 to the theatre also, and zee him, if only at
a distance, surrounded by the glittering, dis
tingushed world; and with throbbing heart
she sought out tie radiant central point Of the
company
II is wonderful, how in the most crowded
rooms our eye feels magneticalIy attracted by
bose who interest US most, and falls upon them
Without being aware Of any other object Ed
mand had hardly entered the box, ere he per-
ceived the figure of Seraphine and Mrs. Mill
! Ter had but just began to send abroad her
looks, when she too fastened them on young
man, who bowed over the shoulder to the love-
| ly Baroness and appeared To whisper some