The independent. (Harrisonburg, La.) 1853-18??, 1854-03-29
Stlfrtf0 Galf.
From Harper's Magazine.
FLORENCE MAY.
4 LOVE STORY.

LOVE STORY.
The golden light of evening dazzled th
eyes of young girl who stood upon still
watching for the arrival of the London coacl
1t was about hundred miles from Londo
mo matter in what direction-at the bo
tom Of green suitcv, down the westa-
slope Of which the road came winding her
and there concealed by trees. A well-beate
path led to village few miles distant, EN-
powered in orchards, ,.and leaning, as it, were
against the massive oaks and elms of lark
that shut in the view in that direction. TIL
square steeple-tower Of the old church scarce
ly overtopped this background Of leaves.
Florence May was aiting for her mother
who had been absent Home weeks in London
and who had been compelled to leave her al
alone IN their humble eottage-all alone, un
less her rectitude and her sense of duty may
be counted as companions.
They were poor, humble people. Mrs. Ma,
was the widow of country curate, who had
died, leaving as curates sometimes do not, 9
slight provision for his family. 1t was like 8
Providence. Having fought the fight of life
nearly out on ESQ or eco year, some dis
tant relation, whom they had never seen and
scarcely ever heard Of, put the curate in his
will for 4lO00. This sum, invested. was
sufficient to support both mother and daugh-
ter 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 her of " something
to her advantage" This was vague enough;
but she resolved to comply; and not being
able to afford the expense Of double journey,
had left her daughter, then about seventeen,
under the guardisSbip of the neighbors, 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 i'm
patience Of 6lial affection-with a counte-
nance in which smiling lips and fearful eyes
|en Of struggle between JOY and sadnesss
She is troubled with the burden Of her first
secret which she nurses with uneasy
lelight, and which she is anxious to pour
ntp the earn of her only confdante-har|
mother. How many maidens Of seventeen
IRE still in this dream of innocencei
The sun had set b3(ore the roll Of wheels |
sme sounding down the valley and when
Be coach began to descend, nothing could
= distinguished but the lights that glanced
behind the trees. The time
eemed prodigiously long to Florence. She
ven once thought that some fantastical,
,hostly coachman was driving phantom |
ehicle to and fro on the hillside to mock |
ler. Young people in her state Of mind |
vould annihilate time and space. However, I
lere it comes, the Tdlly-ho, sweeping round
he last coner-hghts glancing horses toss
ng their heads and steaming--a pyramid Of
luggage swaying to and fro. That's gals
oice as screamed, - said man to the Whip
9 they passed. "Full, inside and outg" was
he reply, and on went the Tdlly-ho along
he level lap Of the valley.
She is not come" murmured Florence,
ter waiting il. vain some time, to see if the
zach would stop lower down; but it pursued
5 memorable course, and the young girl re-
gned by the dim path to her cottage on the
atskirs Of the village.
Acfoss the meadows that occupy the lowest
ortion Of that valley, mesnders stream,
yer which the willows hang their whip-like
ranches and slender leaves Near its mar
ia, Florence used often to sit with her work;
ut diligently attended to, then dropped oc-
lsionally on her lap, that she might watch
70 little fish that fitted like shadows to and
D in the shallow current; then utterly for
,tten, As she herself went waiting down the
ream Of the future, that widened as she
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