The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-11-23

| that he was not aware that Mr.. Richards de
| signed the visit as a farewell
Pray, don't call it so serious a name" re-
piled that gentleman, " shall only be absent i
little day, as it were;" aud, graciously waving
another adieu, he departed
watched them down the lane. listened 10
their recedng footsteps till all was still, but
scarcely = new pang was added to nv safer
ing.
He would come again, he would surely come
again, and not leave me in such cruel sus-
penSe.
All me! it would have been no suspense to
any one not mad with love. | shut ms heart
and my eyes against facts as plain as the light,
and, huggiug close the lie Of NV imagination.
said the darkness must end.
The following morning / learned that limo
thy was gone, and Mike, who brought me the
Intelligence, brought me also pretty little box
OF polished rosewood, which he sent me as a
leavetaking remembrancer; together with a
note. which read thus:
My dear friend Mary Halstead, ] am zone,
and pray YOU to accept the accompanying, Il.
an evidence of sincere esteem. When YOU
shall feel that your fate is decided, open the
box, and do further as seemeth to you good"
Timothy Shue-one OF his idle whims, / said.
and at once put the box aside, feeling neither
interest nor curiosity as to Its contents. fell
greived that he was gone for my nature is to
| acquire liking for those persons with whom !
| am thrown, however dissimilar we may be. /
wondered whittier he proposed to travel. and
whether we should ever meet again, and thought
| how much should miss his flute and so / for
got him-or rather he ceased To occupy nv
mind.
Every night, for week. walked in the lane.
| trying to believe | enjoyed the soemnity of the.
| time; but scarcely the fading woods.
| think, or heard the winds. / was, in truth, ex-
pecting other sounds than winds. did not
hear them. One evening as ! sat on the grass
bank, little distant from the main road, heard
l thought, the expected footstep, but it proved
to be that of Rose.
She was come, she said, to tell me all the
good news she could think Of and revive my
spirits. And the first cheering intelligence she
communicated was, that Mr.. Richards had been
gone three days, and that, for all she knew. he
was married at that very time-probably he was.
&" Are you sure he is 10 be married."
40, certainly; everybody says so, and what
everybody says must be true
Her assurance annoyed me; nevertheless.
thought | knew the man better than others did,
and it was quite impossible that he should SO
desert and betray me. He had made her such
pretty present, Rose said of three books, all
called the same thing, and written on one sub
ject, pretty much, she believed and To Mike be
had given coat and a hat, almost as good n
new. 1t was plain to be seen that Rose was n
good deal cOncliated
| thought it not likely that he should be Kind
to every one except me, whom | was sure he
liked best of all; and as the girl knew nothing
positively with regard to his intentions, | took
the shaping of them into nv own hands. and
each person who expressed n belief contrary To
my wishes seemed my enemy
Nv old walks To the most office were resumed
] went simply for the exercise and my fathers
newSpaper-so tried To beevc-but there was
in my heart secret hope that directed my
steps. Often | encountered DIR. Roberts IN
these walks and was glad to see that he avoid
ed me no more, and that he walked erect and
straightforward, as though he had something 10
do, and proposed to do it. He had mastered a
foolish fancy thought, and paused not to at
tribute any of the struggles | endured To him;
but perhaps he knew them not, for | am in
clincd to think the larger sphere and ampler oc-
equations divide mems hearts, and prevent even
love from becoming all-engrossing.
Through the sleet and the wild winds of mid
winter | took the accustomed walk, week after
week, and returned disappointed, and to hope
again. need not lingerovcr that long and dreary
time. Gou can imagine how, in that old farm
house, Martha and my father and DOke and
Hetty and myself would pass the time-moving
Ike oxen on a tread wheel, because we were
forced to do So
At last the spring came round, and, worn
thin, and with patience and faith tried to their
utmost stretch, came the certain knowledge that
my long dream was indeed "A dream-Nr Rich
ards was married
When ! could not doubt any more. believed
in silence, and neither spoke nor wished to hear
spoken his name.
But, Of course, his marriage was the theme
of all tongues the rcputed wealth Of the lady
was discussed, her beauty was discussed; and,
though few young ladies thought she might
be younger than she was, it was pretty general
" conceded that she was not only very rich,
but exceedingly handsome.
1t was more than whispered about that Ger
tain young wonan-whosc name nobody would
mention for the world. because her father felt
bad enough any how IN having his SON run
ANYWAYS supposed to be ont Of her head,
in consequence Of the said marriage and that
she took on like everything; all of which came
10 me through my beloved stepmother, Martha
If had been carrying on lovemaking with the
great MIR. Richards and that, too, utJekaOiriHg
to her, | was the ungratefulest child that ever a
woman had to do by. had pretended 70 earn
something, and had never let on to her anv bet
ter. So, by the hour, talked Martha, more tn
my father than to myself, for it seemed 10 please
her to heap burdens upon him; and, much
she disllked me, 1t suited her better to blame
my father for my faults than myself
She unconscously did me the greatest favor
by blazoning abroad my Dre-SickHess rs she
called it for she always spoke of love and mar
rage as though they were accused things, and
herself quite superior Ia such weakness. She
favored me, for that ! secretly resolved Ia battle
her, together with all other curious eossips.
She should not triumph over mc-nor should
any one, not even Mr.. Richards himself.
would live To be avenged. Not that love was
dead; if it had been, ambition must have died
with it. 1t was love, maddened and Jealous and
aroused, that spurred me to work, and to obtain
n position, unaided and by the force of the,
power within me, that should make him know
and feel that | was not his inferior | forced
myself to say Mr.. Richards - with smiling
lip, even to talk of the birds beauty and her
wealth. She had so much manner, said. re-
ally felt dwarfed in her presence; and as for
her wealth, rumOr was no doubt correct There
would be great alterations and improvements
in the old place, no doubt. and the society
would receive such an acquisition-all Of which
CONCENTRATIONS gave me, apparently, the great
est delight
How do you like Mr.. Richards ?-you must
know him very well was asked of me almost
every day, by one and another of my induisi-
tors. But | spoke so calmly, so unreservedly,
and withal so pleasantly, that ] saw they were
misled. Perhaps | should blush to make this
confession. but i desire in no way to screen
myself-not to seem better or worse than the
truth. We cannot be deceived, and not learn
thence to deceive 1t is pity, but SO it is nor
can we lose one great hope, without BECOMING
faithless of everything.
1t was as II had been wrung DRY, and dust