Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1853-11-02
RALEIGH, NORTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY

fulnesss and his bones lie unknelled, un-
cofhned and unknown, under the blue
ocean pillows.
With thee, my Lille, came back to
my early home, to the quiet cottage, the
clear waters, and the soft, cool, verdant
lawn, where | knew the sunshine, in It's
pure brightness, fell; where the joyous
songs of my childhood seem even now echo
ing, and where the loving tones of my girl
ish days SO often come floating to me on
the still evening air, in the dim, mysteri-
Gus twilight. But alas the voice which
lent spell to all, has mist-like passed a
way
Was it dream, or did the same sweet
tone of other days come stealing in upon
the moving zephyrs? Was it beautiful
vision which beamed upon her, only sent to
make the after-gloom deeper and darker
or was it the living, breathing form of Err
nest Stanhope which stood before the aston
ished trio !? No dream! no vision land
with quick, wild sob, the wife sprang,
like some frighted bird, into the arms out
stretched to receive her.
My poor Mary murmured Ernest, as
he gazed upon the sad, wasted face, from
every trace of color had vanished how
deeply hast thou also suffered Mary, Ma
ry! he passionately exclaimed; look up
on me-say that you forgive that you still
love me-
A quick struggling sigh, like that of a
wearied child, escaped her lips and with
unclosing her eyes, she murmured in a tone
so touchingly sad that Ernest Stanhope
wept.
That sweet vision I saw the same
bright, startling eyes, heard the same thrill
ling music of that blessed voice, felt upon
my brow and cheek and lips the same warm
breath, the same passionate kisses of my
girlhood! Why, oh why must the dream
thus mock the reality, and by it's vividness
render the life-picture only thousand times
more sombre ?
Again the same fond voice, sadder, but
oh how sweet and Mary Stanhope, now
fully conscious, was pressed closely to her
husbands breast.
'And now, Mary said Ernest, let me
give you hasty sketch of my history since
we last met, for | have been listener of
yours. A few words will explain ALL |
cannot tell you how very desolate earth
seemed when left the house that dreadful
night. Immediately procured passage in
vessel which sailed the following day, for
the Mediterranean, earring not whittier |
went, so that [ might forget, in other scenes,
the misery which overwhelmed me. The
vessel was wrecked, but my life was pre-
detafif dfff of ny 'I IwaddasrI& das &eerz Eqga Eitb,
Europe with wild, feversh excitement
l could not remain at ease in one place fo1
any time The memory of the past seemed
urging me forward, and on [ went.
climbed with a maniac's fearlessness the
dizziest Alpine heights, and chased the
chamois over chasms and down precipices
from which the boldest, hardest hunter
shrank with terror. I gazed upon the Nigh
ty Nile, and sailed upon its waters.
crossed the burning deserts of Sahara, ant
at last | stood under the purple skies o
Italy. But still the fever burned in m,
veins--I could not Danish thy image iron
its resting place in my heart. And yet
then believed thee untrue.
while wandering among the ruins {
the Coliseum, one evening, | heard voic
say 'signor, and billet was thrust int
my hand. Its contents read thus =
EIf Ernest Stanhope desires to hear t
dings of the wife he has deserted, let hiI
follow the bearer of these lines.
Il followed him. The house we entere
was time-wo but still magnificent pa
ace. We entered ladys boudoir. III
inmate was reclining on low couch, wit
her face shaded by her hand. The roo
was but dimly lighted by the lamp shinir
: through the alabaster vase. Motionir
me to sit down, she uttered deep sig
and for several moments (Which seemed
me like hours, she maintained her stran
silence. At length she spoke, and at t
sound of that voice [ started, for it seem
singularly familiar.
Earnest Stanhope,' said she, cor
; nearer to me- Now look upon my face.
l Florence de Montreuil, | exclaimed
astonishment and wonder, and yet scart
ly know how recognized her SO soon,
V time had wrought sad havoc with her bl
u liant beauty. The large eyes were sunk
: and dim, and the raven locks were thick
I sprinkled with grey hairs. She was
the wreck of her former self, and yet l kn
y u her In a moment all the old scenes ca
d up before ME with vividness which '
startling. Again she spoke.
y y Il can say but little to you, for my
- ~ is fast ebbing away. Already do [ feel
le rustling of the death-angcps wings. 1
5 l9 fearful thing to die with such load
~ ~ guilt upon the soul. Listen to me, tha
u may confess, ere the dark waters ov
e whelm me- Earnest Stanhope, your "
VI is pure and true to you. Pure as the c
: died babe, and though now a maniac,
q feeding her heart upon the ashes of the
y love. Nay, start not thus; for | can
y you more than you have dreamed of.
y know how ardently was attached to Vic
oi Never did sister love brother more dee
III For him l would have died. He was a
ne had in the world, and my passionate TIA
lIt nature layished unreservedly its wealt
n !. affection upon him. He met Mary Cliff
Li' (your Wife) and he loved her. They v
n then both very young-she scarcely n
- than a child, and he too youthful to tt
=" of marrying for several years. But
.ne deemed that when he should again
America, he might WOO and win the
girl who had so charmed him.