Raftsman's journal. [volume] (Clearfield, Pa.) 1854-1948, 1854-08-16

you-neyer to see you, never to speak to YOU
Knowing that You were forbidden to sneak t,
me, Knowing that I could never call vol
mine.''
Good forgive my father for this,' said Amy
calmly, as she raised her face, so cold, so pale
SO deadly, from her lovers shoulder. ssGo6
forgive my father this crualty. I am not toe
young to bear broken heart. 1 can neve
wed against my fathers wishes. You are no
bic, that you do not urge me to that step.'
''Good bye, Amy" again said Clifton, as he
kissed the stainless brow resting against hi,
check. ave shall never meet again. I leave
America forever. Good bye, Amy; naught
but loving death for us both Would that
God had never given either of US hearts, then
We might never have felt the pain and anguish
ofbeing crushed Would that we had not met;
then We had not known the parting.'
A calm and holy night, Amy lay on a rich
| purple sofa by her open window, pale as the
Parian Pyschc by her side and almost as cold.
The stars looked sadly snd solemnly in upon
| her, as If sad at the broken heart beating be-
meath that silken bodice. The cool night
wind came and carressed the brow. heavily
aching beneath its weight of pearls. A bride
veil lay around her, with its shining folds
The betrothal ring cleaned upon her finger
She lay there pale. and faint, claiming down
the giant suffering which was making wreck
OF her young, loving heart-crushing all love-
darkning all hope, yelling all with the sable
of dispair
few moments and Amy hands were clas-
ped by others, and then she stood in the prince,
ly parlor below in the midst of brilliant festal
throngs by the side of tall, dark man-an
unwilling bride-promising to love and cher
ish him till death should part them. False
promises, made with cold, quivering lips-no
deep true response rising from the ruined
heart below. False vows written with the
very gall of dispair. Lips vowing to love one:
heart worshiping another, one who was far a.
way-one whom her father told her she was
too young to love. And she was Amy Frank
lin-the envied bride of wealthy mana vic
tim to her fathers aristocratic principles and
love of gold.
ssCome Amy! it is time. The carriage is
waiting,' and Mr.. Franklin threw the rich
opera cloak around Amy,s frail figure.
''Hermon, cannot go,'' said Amys family. |
81 feel very sick and weak tonight. dare
not gofrom home. You must go without me,
Hermor, for once.''
s'Pshaw, Amy.'' said the colb hearted hus-
band, ssyou are only hysterical. am sure
you look well as usual. They will expect |
you.''
81 would willingly obligc you,'' said Amy, |
''but dare not. But do not stay at home-I |
am not afraid to stay at home.''
.sIt's nothing but your whim," said Mr.. |
Franklin, impatiently, as he shut the hall door.
and entered his rich carriage to be borne away
to the rirh saloons of Mrs. c.
The pale, girliSh bride of the golden sum |
mer days sat there alone in the spacious draw
ing rooms. 1t was all rich, all grand all bea1,-
tifu, all cold all false glitter, all icy, like her
own ruined heart. 4 velvet robe was bound |
around her tiny waist, iewas shone on her
white arms and fingers, pearls are braided |
with her heavy golden hair, and bright dia-
monds lay on her pale brow of transparent
beanty-all cold, heavy moclling weight, all |
a bright disguise for the victimized BRIDE
She lay there alone on the crimson velvet
sofa-nO loved one near to sooth away the
lonely agony. Too young to love! All, no;
she had loved, and that love-it was crushed
back. Its free, out-gushing fountain repres-
sed. Its full tide sweeping impetiously back
on the frail young heart, until it was a wreck.
a terrible Wreck-sloWly sinking down into
the dark. deep ocean of dispair, bearing life
meath its heavy weight.
Down the wrecked heart goes meath dispeir's
surging waters, Loves pilot, gone forever
Hopes beacon star lost in the gloom. False
vows for deep overwhelming billows. Hate,
disgust. called love, yet nothing butwrecking
shoals and quicksands. Golden wealth, gild-
ing the ocean with gorgeous glitter. A jew
elled veil, hiding the terrible wreck from the
eyse of fellow yoyagers. Too young to love a
noble, true souled man, but not to young TO
die.
There lies the dead, sacrificed bride-Yictim.
Lips cold and still. Brow pulseless, cold and
white as frozen snow. Dreamy eyes closed
forever more. Face and features icy and
passionless. Hands folded calmly over the
meek breast. The slight figure still and stiff
fened in death. The heart pulseless and hush
ed. The wreck gone down forever. The
presence of Death alone in the still silent par
lor.
Too young to love, tho father deemed her,
yet not too young to be sacrifce0-not too