The Literary echo, and Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1851-1854, 1853-06-09

more in love than ever. At a grand
entertainment, given by the relatives of
the bridegroom, Helen looked most
beautiful. Her husband did not insist
that she should depart from her usual
simplicity, and indeed, without jewels
or laces, with only the fresh white robe,
simple sash of blue, and ornaments of
fair moss-roses, she was the most lovely
creature in the room
AS she entered the great saloon,
blazing with light, her heart failed her
"Shall | love him as dearly" she
asked herself, " if | find he is ashamed
of me ? | cannot bear the thought /;
but should he overcome all conventional
notions, then have | husband worthy
to be honored then shall he be proud
of his wife"
How she watched him as he presented
her to one and another.
Simple" whispered a magnificent
looking girl, resplendent with diamonds,
as she curled her lip and passed by.
The observation escaped neither Helen
nor her husband. She looked at him.
He smiled a lovers smile, and only
drew her closer to his side. Many in
that brilliant gathering pitied "poor
Fred" wondered why he had martyred
himself on the shrine Of ignorant rus
ticity.
But he, oh joy! he seemed only to
love her the more as she clung to mis-
arms so timidly. His noble face ex-
pressed the pride he truly felt; he look
ed as if he would have swept back the
scorners with one motion of his hand had
they venturned one wave too high on the
shore Of his pride. He seemed to ex-
cuse every look, every word not in strict
conformity to etiquette-and Helen's
heart beat high tears came to her eyes
when she thus felt how noble heart
she had won.
The young bride stood near her hus-
band, talking in low tone, when new
conner appeared She was beautiful,
slightly-formed creature, with naughty
features, and ill-concealed scorn lurked
in her great brilliant eyes, whenever she
glanced towards Helen. Once she had
held sway over the heart of Fred, and
hearing whom he had married, she fan
cied her hour of triumph had come
"Do you suppose she knows any
thing ?" said a low voice near her.
Helen's eyes sparkled-her fair brow
flushed indignant. She turned to her
husband. He was gone-speaking at
little distance with friend.
Presently Marion Summers turned
round towards her.
"Do you play, Mrs. Lane :" she
asked. There was mocking tone in
her voice.
GA little" answered Helen, her cheek
burning.
"And sing :"
" A little" was the calm reply.
/" Then do favor u.s." she exclaimed, =,
looking askancc at her companions !;
" come myself will lead you to the
instrument
" Hark whose mastery touch ?"
Instantly was the half-spoken word ar.
rested-the cold ear and naughty head
were turned in listening surprise. Such
melody such correct intonation ! such
breadth, depth, and vigor of touch |!
who is it she plays like an angel ,"
And again, bark A voice rolls out,
a flood Of melody, clear, powerful, pass
ing sweet-astonishment paints many a
fair cheek deeper scarlet. There is
silence-unbrcken silence, as the silvery
tones float up
"Aye! care not for cold neglect,
Though tears unbidden start;
And scorn is but bitter word,
Save when it breaks the heart.
If one be true
Ii one be true
The world may careless be,
Since may only keep thy love,
And tell my grief to thee
Glorious voice." said Fred to his
friend, who, with the rest, had paused
to listen, "who can it be 7"
The words were suddenly arrested on
his lips. She had turned from tho