The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1854-06-17
From Chambers Journal. & sis 8
FLoRENCE MAYA LOVE Sropy

l of = ,,,.s. III vi evening daZZled the eyes
Oh young girl who stood upon a stile, wat,
ching tor the arrival of the London coach
Ii was about hundred miles from T,ondon
i-ho matter IN what direcfion--at tbe hottoyn
~ sreenS aliey, down the western slone of
"nfcn the road came winding here and thare
cohcehed by tire ss A well b, eaten path led ta
| village few fields distant, embowered in
orchards' ana ieanings as 1t were, against the
massive oaks and elms of park. that sbn,
in the view in that direction. The sanara
steeple tower of the old church scarcelv
| oyertopped this back ground of leaves
Florence May was waiting for her mother
who had been absent some weeks in London
and who had been compelled to leave her ali
alone in their humble c0ttage-all alone, un.
less her rectitade and her sense of duty may
| be counted as companions. ~
They were poor, humble people. Mrs. Nav
was the widow of country curate. who had
died. leaving, as curates sometimes do not. a
slight provision for his family 1t was like a
| Providence. Having fought the fight of life
nearly out on L.5O or LEO year. some dis
tant relation, whom they had never seen and
scarcely ever heard OF, put the curate in his
| will for l.. 1000. This sum, invested, was suf
ficient to support both mother and daughter
in that out of the way place.
A letter had arrived, when Mrs. May had
been widow for three years, requesting her
to come up to London, to hear of something
to her advantage. This was vague enough
but she resolved to comply; and not being a.
| Bile to afford the expense of double Journey
had left her daughter, then about seventeen
under the guardianship of the neighbours,
her own character. and mothers prayers.
| She has been absent more than a week.
What has happened in the meantime? Why
| does Florence wait with more than the impa-
| tience of flial affection-with contenance
in which smiling lips and fearful eyes tell of
| a struggle between joy and sadness? She is
| troutl d with the burden of her first secret
secret which she nurses with uneasy de-
| light, and which she is anxious to pour into
| the ears of her only confdante-her mother.
/ How many maidenSbf seventeen are still in
| this dream of innocence
The sun had set before the roll of wheels
came sounding down the valley; and when
| the coach began to descend, nothing could
| be distinguished but the lights that glanced
| occasionally behind the trees. The time
seemed prOdigiously long to Florence She
| even once thought that some fantastical,
ghostly, cOachman, was driving phantom
vehicle to and fro ON the hillside to mock her.
Young people in her state of mind would an
| initiate time and space. However, here it
comes, the Tally-ho, sweeping round the last
corner-llghts glancing-horses tossing their
| heads and Scanning pyramid of luggage
| swaying to and fro That's a gals voice as
passed. Full inside and out p was the re-
| ply, and on went the Tally-ho along the level
| lap of the valley.
She is not come, murmered Florence, af-
| ter waiting in vain some time, to see if the
| coach would stop lower down; but it pursued
| its inexorable course, and the young girl re-
turned by the dim path to her cottage on the
| outskirts of the village.
That was a critical period in her life. For
q ,.,fh VIC Il ,l,a
| had spent her time either at her needle, or
| with one or two old neighbours, who wearied
her with their gossip. To escape from the
| sense of mOnotOny, she had wandered one
morning into the fields. as it was indeed her
| custom from time to time to do; and there,
with the scent of wild-howers and new mown
hay around, she allowed her mind to be ruff
| fled by those thoughts and feelings which at
| that age breathe upon us from / know not
what region-sparkling and innocent stir
| rings, that scarcely typify the billowy agita-
| ton of succeeding years.
Across the meadows that occupy the low
| portion of that valley, meanders the stream,
| over which the willows hang their whip -lik e
| branches and slender leaves. Near its mar
| gin, Florence used often to sit with her work
| first diligently attended to, then dropped oc-
| casionally on her lap, that she might watch
the little fish that fitted like shadows to and
| gotten, as she herself went waiting down the
| stream of the future, that widened as she
went, and flowed, at her unconscious will,
| through scenes more magical than those of
| fairy land. The schoolmen have sought for
the place of Paradise-did they peep into a
young heart that is waiting, without knowing
| it, to love? -..4
| 1t was during her first walk since her mo-
| Tiers absence, that a stranger came slowly
don fhn yfn hot1l of fho or o,ad
| seeing this lovely young girl entranced in a
| reverie, paused to gaze at her. His glance
| at first was cold and critical, like that of a
| man who has trodden many lands, and has
seen more such visions than one under trees
| in lonely places-visions that, when neared
| and grasped at, hardened into reality, vulgar
| and bucOlic. In a little time, however, the
| brow of this stranger unbent, and his lips un-
| curled; and there came stranger fear to his
| heart, that what he saw of grace and beauty
| beneath that archway of willow boughs, was
| a mere optical illusion-a phantasm paint
| ed on the exhalations of the meadow by the
suns beams. There is a certain pride in
| disappointed natures, which makes them be-
| Iieve that all the lovliness of the outer world
is of their own imagining, as if we could inn
| agine more perfect things than God has
| imagined and thrown ON this canvass of the
| universe. E .s ni aoi% 's'saa2
l
| by birth, and muttered some Santa Yer
| gines! more in surprise than devotion. He
did not move or speak to attract the young
| girls attention, but waited till her eyes,
which he saw were restless, should chance to
! fall upon him, Her start of alarm, when she
found herself to be not alone, was repressed
by the grave politeness of his bow.
Young lady he said, in a low musical
| voice when he had leaped the stream and
stood by her side, am on my way to Mel
vyn Park. Perhaps may learn from you in
| what direetion to turn lgl s-s 5
. The roof of the mansion shews above the
trees, replied she, rising and stretching out
| her pretty hand.
sfmight have guessed so,' said the, stran-
ger, whose accent was but slightly foreign !;
| and this is but bad excuse for speaking to
you. 1t is more frank to say, that l was sur
prised at seeing so much beauty and grace
buried in this sequestered valley, and could
| not pass on without learning who you may
be- :,
Flattery fiies to the heart as swiftly as cleo
tricity along the wire. The maiden blushed: