The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1854-07-06
WASHINGTON, THURSDAY, JULY g. 1854

down over her, haunted by words of knocking
misery. But when, through this darkness
the true meaning of his words came, like
the sharp, keen, resistless lightning, he stood
aghass at the tempest which he had awaken
Aye, he was not prepared for this-that
cold calm, selfish, artificial man-that "seeker
after the highest in Nature and in Art, as he
styled himself-he trembled, and, for one in
stant turned pale before the storm his own
hand had raised, like many another miserable
charlatan, who has dared to tamper with
| things above his comprehension He had
studied nature; he professed to have taken
| home her lessons-and, surely, no one could
write or talk more beautifully about her-did
he not know that the furious torrent and the
placid rivulet, that binds the upland and the
iowland together with green girdle of fresh.
ness and beauty, is the same in nature? That
the slow, lingering, summer breeze, that scarce
ly lifts the egret from the thistle, or the white
petals OF the apple blossom is one with the ter
rible tempest, that brings desolation and death
That the sunbeam, sleeping on the cottage wall,
at which the chubby hands of infancy grasp
and grasp again. hides within it the power to
blind and destroy?
Oh yes; he knew all this we'll He would
have given philosophical analysis of each,
and spent hours in explaining the laws that
governed them; but he did not know that the
heart which had beat against his own for the
space of two years, that had proven it's wealth
of love with flow silent but ceaseless and in
exhaustible as the ocean, upon the cold, barren
shores of his own being, bringing them beauty
and life, could be so reused that it could gather
up oil its dreams, all its loves, all its despairs,
all its. memories of the past and it's hopes of
the to b" and, in one wild hour of agony,
leap the torrent of life, and sink into silence.
So he trembled in her presence. He did not
dare to utter the miserable insulting, mean
thought which his contemplate philosophy
placed upon his lips: That there were others
to whom she might be all she had been to him"
He spared her this but only through kind of
imaginary fear and he was glad, and breathed
freer, when che neither wept nor prayed, but,
rising suddenly up, said, in that low, hushed,
but strangely distinct voice, Go !"
He obeyed-he was glad to do SO, congratu-
lating himself that the scene " was over, that
il had been accomplished with no more trouble
and yet, there was q certain look on Helen
Winnings face, as she uttered that monosylla-
BILE, that puzzled him, well read as he fancied
himself in all the changes of woman's face.
Why did it remind him SO wildly of bis young
bictCI, % buo lay III u6E CUulu years U6lUTe, III
the dawn of her womanhood. How well he
remembers that cold, rigid look. Does he not
know that Death, as well as Life "casts its
shadows before?"
He speculates upon it-speculates even in the
splendid parlor of the Revere House-specu-
lates even while listening to the dulcet tones of
the celebrated actress, Mrs A.. It is only
in the evening, that he accidentally finds q solu-
ton; accidentally we say, for Miles Wallingford
seldom troubles himself to look over such por-
tons of the city papers as relate to I" casual
ties,n "coroner's inquests," &c. Even now. it
was by chance that his eye met the notice
which forms the text of this sketch. Then he
knew the meaning of that look ; it was death !!
He read the notice again he felt it was a lie /;
he kneO her
For few brief moments he felt himself q
murderer. He scarcely knew the difference be-
tween himself and the most miserable crimi-
nal that ever swung from q gallows. Then
came his cold philosophy--stepping in between
him and God-twisting the hottest instincts of
his nature, the clearest teachings of his rea-
son, aye, the very Word Of God himself into
not apologies-but Qualifications Of his selfish
ness; and with regret that she was " so fool
ish - he went on his way.
And was this all? Yes; for men who be-
lieve that the end justifes the means, for men
who mistake that end, and set up the altar of
Eelfshness in its place, are seldom troubled
with conscientious scruples.
And yet as we believe in God, we believe
that there does come to such men time when
the consciousness that they have scorned and
trampled upon the humanity with which God
had gifted Them is the bitterest, the most ter
rible, of all punishments; hours, in which their
Wanted attainments are to them as apples Of
Sodom and they would bless the hand of the
little child that should again lead them back
to the fountains of Truth and Life