The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-08-10

l 90 not think pity akin to love, es Is generally
believed, fer surely pitied him sincerely, and
yet my heart beat no faster, nor did my eyes
shrink from bis when his trembling hand held
mine, and his broken voice said he loved me.
he Is very good young man. thought |;
| am sure of that, and if it is in my power as
he says, to make him happier, ought | not OBJ
vionsly do So and shall | not, withal, be doing
| for myself as good thing as | can hope to do4
That | reasoned thus, il evidence now to nv
mind that his feeling found little reciprocity,
for true love does not wait for reason--to cal
culste gain or loss. Nevertheless, he pleased
| a1d interested me, and the more | saw him,
! the more he won my esteem so that | an per-
suaded now, that | might have learned TO love
him, but for the pride and ambition that pushed
him aside. True, | had somewhat subjued
these thought they were quite subject to nv
will--till came The severe test Of placing them
forever beyond my reach for whatever might
hope 70 do alone, numbered with care and with
a weaker and less resoluts soul leaning upon
me and weighing me down, how could hope
20 climb any emiaence above that OF wife and
ya9thcv2 ] did rot think then, sc ! do now,
s53t there is no eninence above the beansifui
ores of wifebood and maternity. What pretty
pictures the young man drew with tie colOrs
O. fancy, as we sat together in the March
woodsl was half won by their loveliness; and
If did not add to the sunny hues, neither did
| dash them with the shadows Of despair.
What a sweet cottage we would have, and what
| usefsl and quiet lives we would lead-the great
world, its glitter and hollowness alike forgot
all in ali to each other. smiled at the young
mans enthusiasm and replied, half jest and
half earnest, that | would ponder what he had
said, and the first Sunday of April | would
meet him in the grove ogain-perhaps have
concluded to write my name thereafter Mary
Roberts. | spoke smilingly and lightly, but he
| took up the words misunderstanding, Mary
Roberts God grant il" and kissing the hand
he held reverently, stood silent moment and
was gone
al watched till he was quite lost to view,
and then the memory of the words | had spo-
ken came back upon me q troubling weight.
Reducing them to their strictest meaning, they
meant little, to be sure nevertheless, they I'M
piled great deal; that fact | could Lot shift
aside
Conflicting emotions toFmented me, till at
last | gave way to bitter crying during
| which i made thousand contradictory re-
solves. All the Influences Of nature about ne
were soothiug-the droning Of the bees, the
tinkling Of the waters along their shallow beds
Of stones, the tapping of the woodpeckers, and
tho calls of the b!ue-birds, the cattle pesturiDg
along the hills, the grass growing green, and
the first few flowers. | could not long give
way to tears, with the warm sunshine on my
checks, and feeling of sorrowful resignation
gradually took the place Of the subsi6lng tur-
bulenee. Still | fingered, till the smoke curl
ing away from the chimney tops, and tie long
shadows stree ching from the leafesa trees in
dicated the closing day. To feed my sorrow,
as it were, | conjured up Forrowful memories,
| and amongst them came the death and burial
Of little Harry No mothers voice to soothe
the last anguish-no soft steps treading fenoly
near his grave. 1t was nearly opposite where
sat | could see the tree beneath WHOM it wBs
made and, partly TO amuse my idleness, and
partly because the employment was in keen
ing with my mood, began digging the violets
which grew against the log on which set,
with intent to plant them about the childs
grave. ] soon bad my apron full, soentless, ex-
eept Tor Che earth about The roots and through
the shadow that came after sunfet. took nv
way TO the new burial ground. Mingled with
| thoughts Of the dead child there were none Of
the living father, am sure as planted about
the sunken mound the woods flowers.
"The grave was beneath broad-spreading
peach tree, and there were fifty others stretch
ing along the Ridge between me and Mr. Rich
ards's house. go felt quite secure from obse7-
vstion. The gray of twilight was tinged with
evening, when ] had PLANTED the last yiolets,
and, tossing off my hood, fell to mendrg the
grave with the clods which picked in ny
hands. They were growing stiff and clumsy
in tho operation, ald held them UP, at a loss
what to dc, VIXEN voice, which startled snd
thrilled me, said-'This way, Miss Haktend.
you will End some water y and there, sitting
On a rude bench beneath one Of the orchard
trees, was Mr.. Richards, as be evidently had
been during ell my work
al did net blush nor stsmmer, as | excused
myself for having trespassed On his more sa-
cred privilege, for | was too profoundly FOR
rowful to be easily moved, even by the presence
and words Of tie nan who from the first had
taken strange hold Of my imagination and
turning in the direction indicated, found
grassy basin partly filed with clear rain water.
My additions finished, tied on my hood, and
was about retracing my steps, when the gen.
tlemsn Joined me, begging leave TO conduct me
by a moro direct route / thanked him, and
we walked along the slope together. AS We
did 90, he pointed out the localities Of various
alterations and improvements he proposed TO
make, asking my opinion of his plans, which
he said were the growth of very slight expert
enoes; and he related some very amusing ac-
counts CT the mishaps his want of agricultu-
raj knowledge occasioned him. | referred him
to Mrs. Wilkinson, as the ablest counsel in
affairs Of difficulty that | knew Of; and, from
the serious opening, our conversation flowed
into light and lively vein. Many times he
turned aside from the direct path, to point out
to me some beauty CT the landscape, or some
field 70 which he designed applying q new
mode Of cultivation, so that it was q1ite dark
when we reached the white house. Miss
Pinchum stood on the porch, her arms folded
and her brows knit evidently waiting one Of
the parties before her.
atReally, Mr. Richards,' she exclaimed. as
we drew near How you do try my patience
Supper waitingf' be asked, and continued
Give US the pleasure Of drinking tea with you,
Miss Halstesd, and 1 will then ses VOC homo,
if you will allow me- yes, little girl joined
Miss Pinchurn, we shall be glad to have You;
we are 50 lonesome, Harry and T. since the
death of our little boy 'Miss Pinohurn,' re-
spOnded Mr.. Richards, in evident displeAsure,
speak in the singular number, if you please
And turning to nae, renewed cordially his prof
fer Of hospitality. declined, little coldly
think, and, assuring him that was quite inds-
pendent of his further services, took my Lone
some way home.
81 bad been pleased, and the memory of his
forgetfulness Of me was softened, 1t may be, by
bis civilities; but my pride as great as his,
would not snffer me voluntarily to become Lis
guest.
sCharley was not como homc-Martha was
sick with q headache, for the need, sine said, Of
something suited 10 her appetite. Hetty was
worn ont with doing nothing but afraid to
peep or move the wing, lest she should bring
down on herself her mothers displeasure; and
Doke, seated q. tho top of tho accustomed
pole, was believing for his supper, no iadica-
items of which had yet RECALLED his eyes. Ia
vain he had threatened 10 swallow stones. Cnd
pat an end to his hfe-in vain threatened 70
kin Martha's COW. She vas MT Ia he v,o-o5