The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1852-07-14
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a plain travelling chariot stopped at theI
village inn, and a noble looking man, its
only occupant, inquired for Mrs Oil
phant. Alighting, he was shown to her
dwelling. and dismissed his little guide
thither, with a liberal alrecompense. Great
was the widows surprise-much greater
than usual the trial Of her habitual self
possession-when he stood before her
for, though eighteen years had passed
over them, she at once recognised him.
After ascertaining that no one was. with
in hearing, L have come to see you,my
good friend," the stranger said, 9 to
thank you for your care of my child
Your last letter told me of her comfort
able marriage may not indulge all |
feel, but l would fain for once see her
see the living resemblance, as you have
often told me, of my poor unhappy"
Agitation choked his utterance but his
faithful servant wept. "Ah what is
this I see2" glancing at her weeds "you
are lately become widow; had not
at first observed it. Well, but Mrs. Oh
liphant'- he proceeded with some
commonplace words of consolation
"'Tis not my widowhood | mourn, my
lord, though that now seems more sor-
rowful than before. You have come to
sec your lovely child and oh how
would her poor heart now have been sat
isfed but see sleeps in the cold grave.
las do live to tell 2" wringng
her hands in paroxysms of distress.
The shock was great but the father
listened with deep interest to tbs partic-
ticulars Mrs Oliphant chose to give him
of the last illness and death of his helpless
child the circumstances leading to which
it may be believed, were smoothed over
perhaps in kindness. The stranger look
ed around him-hc saw the books he
had sent hcrAthc flowers she had reared
her favorite canary, in its spacious
cage, carolling the cheerful notes she
had so often listened to. He asked tC
have something that had belonged t.
her, and the gold watch, which th,
widow had taken from the inanimate re
mains. together with its history, was Civ
to him finally, he shed tears in bittei
anguish over the humble grave of the be
ing who had been wronged so deeply"
. Such were the emotions wrung by re
morse from heart not wholly lost t.
the better feelings of nature. A hum
Bile, childlcss, unhonored man, he return
ed to those scenes of high life, wher,
, there are many bosoms besides his con
ccaling under gay outside sin ant
sorrow-stricken heart. Oh that the ricl
and great would reflect in time on th'
consequences that may flow from selfish
!, ness and error, not only to themselves
, but to others, and, above all, to the on
party who ever is the most innocent
z though the most wronged. Here, indeed
e we have seen that an effort was made t.
provide moderate happiness for the un
fortunate victim, but even if her marrie'
lot had been happier, was it altogethe
= appropriated Alas, no. Inheriting b.
nature the high-toned and delicate taste
e of her parents, she was in a field wher
| these never could receive their prope
qualifications and where unhappiuess con
{ sequently must sooner or later hav
befallcn her; where, as it was, the shocl
which they had received from one set o
adverse circumstances proved the caus
y of her lamentablc fate-a broken hear
+ and an early grave. is.