The Cadiz Democratic sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 1854-1864, 1854-05-10


Edward inquiringly, turning in the direction
where she stood.
"No," she replied sorrowfully, ait is the
ball that do not like. nor you thinking a.
decking US out for. As if l cared to gor'
Look at these lovely rtses." said the ell
dest sister, as they were selecting what each
should wear: would not Mary look well
with a wreath Of these rose in her hair?"
"Yes, yes" exclaimed Edward eagerly
"and let me waive it for her You know
Mary it's one of my accomplishments; you
were proud ofmy garlands when you were
little girl. VIII you trust my fingers for
the taSk?"
"lf you really wish it. lift does not seem
to trifing, yes" said Mary, gently, with a
troubled expression upon her brow usually
so serene as she moved ,eluctantly away
"But it aust appear such mockery TO you
poor Elward!' and then without waiting for
a reply, she hurried to her room, and did
not show herself again until the family as
sembled for dinner; while Edward seated
between the sisters who were in great de.
light in their anticipation Of the evenings
amussments, silently betook himself in his
task.
Early after dinner. the old-fasbioned
drawing room at Woodlands was deserted
the momentous business Of the toilet haG tc
be gone through, and then.a drive of five
miles accomplished, before Mrs. Parker and
her three fair daughters could fad them
selyesa at the ball. Edward was the only oc'
cupant of the room; seated at the piano, ov.
er which his fingers idly strayed. he NOV
and then struck chords of deep melancholy
or broke into passages of plaintiye sadness,
"Alone, alone! How the silence Of this
room strikes upon nay heart, how Ieng this
evening will be without her voice, without
her foostep! And yet this is what awaits
me, what is inevitably drawing near; next
week shalt not hear Ter singing as she
runs down stairs in the morning, | shall
not have her constantly at my side, asking
me, with her sweet childlike earnestness
to repeat poetry, or to give expression tc
her music. The welcome rustic Of her dress
the melody of her laugh, will soon be rare
sounds to me! Within around, beyond, all
| is. dark, hopeless. solitary Life stretches
itself YEARLY before me, blind and desolate
as am Mother, mother, well might your
sweet spirit shrink when you contemplated
this for your miserable son! How strange
those last words! thought Of them to day
while l made her wreath Of roses, and when
her told me Of the numbers who flock a
round her. Every fewer broughtits warn
ing and its sting!"
Edward have l not made haste?
wished to keep your company, for little
while before we set out You must be SC
sad! Your playing told me you were sad,
Edward"
She was standing by him in all the pride
cfher youth and lovelinesss her white dress
falling in a cloud.lik drapery around hei
graceful form, her sunny hair sweeping hel
shoulders, and the wreath surmountng {
brow on which innocence and truth wert
impressed by Natures hand.
The sense of her beauty OF an exquisite
harmony about her, was clearly ptrceptiblt
to the blind man; he reverently touched the
flowing robe, and placed his hand upon The
howry wreath,
"Whl you think Of me dearest, tonight
You will carry with you something to re
mind you Of me. When you are cour'ed
worsbipped, envied, and hear on every side
praises Of your beauty, give passing
thanght to Edward who lent his little helE
TO its adornment.
Edward, how can YOU speak so mocking
Ily! You know that in saying this yol
render me most miserable"
miserable: With roses blooming OF
your brow, and hope exulting in your heart
when life smiles so brightly on you, ant
guardian angels seem to hover, round your
path!'
He spoke in manner that was .unusua
to him; she leaned thoughtfully against th'
piano, and, as If unconscious Of what sh'
was doing, disengaged the garland from he
hair.
"These poor flowers have no bloom, ant
this bright life OF mine, as you think II
has no enjoyment when think Of you, sa
alone, unhappy, returning to your desoIat
home, Edward"
DEAREST" he returned inexpressibly mo
we'd, "do not grieve for me. Remember
my Mother left her blessing there
"Was it only for you, E1ward?'
There is moments silence; he cover
his face with his hands, his lofty self-deny
ing spirits wrestles with himself when, gent
ly the wreath is laid upon Lis knee, her arr
is passed around his neck, her head wit
its glory of golden locks is bowed upon hi
breast.
"Oh Edward, take the wreath, and wit
it take myself if l deserve i'll Tell me tina
you are not angry, that you ito not dispis
me for this--I have been So unhappy,
have so long wished to speak to you. !.
"Mary, Mary, forbear! You try me b
yond my sire. 9Th; beloved Of my sou
: ightof my sightless eyes, dearer to me tha
: words can express, you must not thus thro
J yourself away"
He would disengage the arm that is cling
> ing to his neck. but she nestles closer. still
"Mary?" he cr.es eswildly, remember! Bin
blinde"
"Not blind near me; not blind for me-
| Here, Edward, here my resting place =
found; nothing but death shall separate m
:, from you. am you,s, your friend, you
l consoler, your wife. Oh, tell me You ar
5 glad"
. Glad! His previous resolutions, his d'
termination to owe nothing to her p!tyin
love. all faded in the uneqalled happine'
: of that hour, nor ever returned TO cloud th
/ life which MAry's devotion rendered hence
forth blessed
; This is no fiction, reader, no exaggerate
. nicture. some. who neruse this, will teStii