Fremont weekly freeman. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1850-1853, 1852-01-10


Irene 1t was an unfortunate laugh; for it
stesled the heart that was just beginning TO
yield to lis better feeling. But Hugh could
not help laughing. The two chairs standing
back to back, struck him so ludicrously, and
Irene filling hers with such an air Of offended
dignity.
Let those laugh who win,' Sir Hugh said
Irene, fixing her large black ewes steadily up
on him AS for me, l am in no mood to be
laughed at, andI advise you to go to Kate
Clifford; she, no doubt, will tolerate your
rudeness, but never will
Hugh's cheeks grew trile paler at the
naughty tone which his betrothed assumed.
Without changing his position he drew on
slowly his gloves one after the other.
Good night, Irene. 1 shall not trouble
you soon again with my presence, he said at
last, and fingered a moment but vainly, for
an answer. Another, and he was gone.
AS the door closed upon him, Irene started
to her feet. Her full crimson lips parted,
| though she would have called him back; but
pride conquered love, as it has often and of
! ten done before and since, and she sank back
in her chair, vexed at her own hasty words,
and vexed with Hugh for obeying her so read
| ly. ..r
Moment after moment stole away.-Not a
sound, save her quick sighs, and the nevous
tapping of her fan. She drew her locket from
the folds Of her rich brocade dress, where it
was hidden, and gazed earnestly and sadly
upon the expressive face which the artist had
SO faithfully drawn.
Those full brown eyes!-she could not for
get how often they had showered their sun
light oflove upon her. The manly tenderness
of that mouth, ever more at home in Joy than
in sorrow
What if he should never come back un-
concous that she spoke aloud; while from be-
meath her dropping lashes, tear stole softly,
and flashed like a diamond down the purely
moulded cheek.
Oh, blessed tears! what purifiers ye are of
the unhallowed passions of the human breast.
As falls the gentle rain upon the thirsty
earth, giving new life to the parched and
dropping plant, so fell on Irene's heart that
night the softening influences of her bitter
tears of repentance.
And not unnoted were the falling. At the
partially re-opened door behind her. Hugh
had paused, 10th to go, for It had beer their
FIRST quarrel; and now in the lofty mirror be-
fore her, he read in the reflection of her face
the sorrow that he felt
Stealing in nearer, still nearer he succeed
ed at length in reaching his vacant chair, with
out arousing Irene from her deep reverie.-
He sat down cautiously. She was still una
ware of his presence. He drew one delicate
glove from his hand, and turning his face par
TALLY around watched to see the effect as he
playfuly dropped it upon her neck.
Irene sprang to her feet quickly. The storm
cloud had fed from her face, leaving i as
beautiful as an houri's.
And now. what did she do but laugh as
merrily as Hugh had done, when she saw
how absurdly they had been sitting! He
needed not to explain the cause of his nerri-
ment, for the chairs, back to back, revealed
the whole.
Not in vain did Hugh sue again for full
and free absolution from the unpreme editated
sin of the evening before; nor in vain did he
seek 10 clasp the plump and snowy hand
which had once that evening been drawn SC
pettishly from him.
1t was their first and last tiff before the
holy marriage bond united them. But, alas
thereafter l cannot speak SO favorably; for al
though this happened many, many long years
ago, human nature was the same then as now
and the clouds which so often mar the happi
ness of domestic life were even in those days
as frequent and as heavily laden.
Be it said, though, to Irene's praise, that
when she found herself to blame, she was ev.
er quick to seek reconciliation nor did she
suffer her husbands trivial errors to estrange
them. The smile of forgivness would often
shine out upon her beautiful face, before Hugh
had an opportunity, either by word or act t.
make manifest his consciousness of error.
And did such state of things exist alway:
in married life, how much misery would have
been spared to hearts that too often have
, been crushed by their self-inficted sorrows
Sartain's Magazine.