New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-11-22

she would not promise to- be his, without o con-
aition He argued long and earnestly, but her
answer was always the same.
sWe must part for q year. YOU THINK now,
with the memory of your illness upon you, that
YOU love me >but ani.come OF too naughty a
blood. though poor now, to marry even where
mioht love. on such sudden and questionable
| excuse me, for must speak plainly such sud-
den and questionable attachment. Youare rich,
| fashionable and with influence am the last of
a line prescribed ever since Culloden. Your
place is the gay world, where you will be sur
rounded by troops of friends; mile is the hum
| BILE cabin, where few poor dependents have
| been my only companions ever since my father
died If you really love me, you will return at
the end of the year; and if you forget me" her
Hips quivercd, but she went on, s'if you forget
me, shall live with the heather and muir cock
as have lived before"
Her lover, therefore, was compelled to submit
But, think you he bonored OF adored her any the
less for her resolution' No, he worshipped her
the more for it. There was proud indepen-
dence in her Punishment of him, which became,
he said to himself, the daughter Of chieftains
who had fought at Bannockburn and Flodden
Field, and sacrificed their all at Culloden.
Two weeks from that time, Donald and his
friend left the highland cabin, and Helen was
alone Never before had she known what it was
to be really alone. She missed the presence Of
that manly form, the light of that manly eye
the deep tones of that manly voice continually.
She never knew how much she loved till her
lover was away,
But even a year will pass, and just twelve
| month from Donald's departure, Helen sat at
the spring side, which she had named for the
trysting spot, if her lover proved faithful. She
had been there already for many hours, watch
ing with an eager, timid heart, half trembling
at her own folly in expecting him, half angry
with herself for her doubts; but nog, as the
gloom came on, yet no Donald appeared, her
bosom swelled nigh to bursting. She rose fire.
| quently and looked up the bridle-path, but no.
body was in sight. AT last the stars began to
come out, the wind grew chill, and with an al
| most broken heart, she rose to return to the
cabin-her tears were falling fast
81 might have known this she said sadly.
Do not all my books foretell the same' Ever
the old story Of trusting woman and deceiving
man"
| AT this instant, an arm was thrown around
her waist, and a we'll remembered voice whis-
pered in her ear
&C Now, Helen, dear, one Of our cruel sex at
least is falsfed. L thought to steal upon you
unawares and surprise you; and so went by the
cottage to leave my horse there. Had you looked
behind instead of before, you would have frus-
trated my little scheme by seeing me coming up
the path
one coulu say notnlnS, put Dulylng nef race
on his shoulder, wept glad tears.
81 have waited whole year, impatiently for
this day. said he, &c thank God find you mine
at last"
A month from that time Sir Donald Alleyne
introduced his bride to his ample domains in
! England; and never had fairer wife entered
| the halls of his ancestors.
In the great gallery of the castle is picture
Of young Scottish girl, with a half pensive
face, sitting by a mountain spring; and the old
housekeeper, as she goes the rounds with visit
ors, passes before the portrait to say
"That is the portrait of the last Lady Al
leyne, and lovely she was and good as she was
lovely She was always called by her husband,
the Late baronet, the Lily of the yalley-why, 1
have never heard.'
But you have, reader; and, if you should
ever visit Alleyne Castle, you will have no need
to be told, the tale again