The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1854-09-16
\ Goo0 Storm.
From the True Flag.l
RICH AND POOR.
A NIDTE1lEstS STORY.

| ANA mine broken VOW,
Ilse he loved, and who loved me,
| Were here besid. me row. Wv
"Come hithcr, Hanne, my poor proud
child !"
There was world Of music in my mother S
deep, sorrowful voice, and ] crossed the room
in the W inter twilight, and threw myself on
a low stool at her feet. The coal fire was
smouderng in the CRATE The carpet, with
| is dark, rich colnrs, locked warm and com
| Portable in the dim light, but outside the
winds howletl MIrrying by, and the unquiet
feet Of the wild November rain paced round
the old house like sentinel I had been
long time loved by one good and noble, and
more than worthy. lie was like some poet
artists conception of morning, with his calm
high brow, his clear blue eyes, and golden
trcsScs. There was an expression of bold.
fearless truth in his handsome features, and
a look of loving tenderness about his pleasant
mouth. He was all sunshine and he had
shone his way into my heart. / loved him,
though hardly acknowledged it to myself.
He was poor, and II had but my proud old
name, and the ruined mansion and wasted
patrimony of the race of Stlarts.
| Another lover came, and this one was no.
Die. The gold lay yellow and deep, and shin
| ing in his iron Golfers, and the broad lands
that called him master, were green and fair. If
Morgan Phillips was radiant with the beauty
OF morning, this other one, this Hunt Hen
ncSly, was the personilication Of some stormy
night, not wet with tears Of rain, but black,
dark and terrible with heavy tempest clouds
with now and then star flashing through
them, like the glcam of giant S FURNISHED
armor. Ilovcd Morgan Phillips, but Hunt
IIcnncsly's wilder nature possessed strange
charm for my adventurous admiration
| him, could realize every dream of my So
| dreaming YOUTH could cross the Eastern
desert, bivouac among Bedouins, stand
among tie ruins of JcruSalsm. and weep ovel
the fallen grandeur Of Greece and Rome
with him | could float down the caStlcd
| Rhine, look on the stony Hebridcs, and fol-
low the track Of the old Norsemcn across the
Northern sea. With Morgan Phillips, what
should | share
"Loyc,' answered tremblingly the low
voice in my heart, and | saw vision of "a
peaceful home, where my presence would
make sunshine. | twincd the roses over those
cottage walls. and rocked the blue eyed chill
dren, bright with the golden hair of my lover
| husband, but the cCscy tca-table with its
fresh biscuit and clotted cream, brought Wis
| ions of washing dishes and securing knives;
|
ever fast the cradle logged romd cry and
my Grant fancy turned with sigh of relief
to the other picture--the lullaby which the
peaceful Mediterranean was singing to those
ever Quiet c.lildrcn--the summer isles upon
her breast Unconsciously | said aloud -
81 shall be Hunt llcnncsly s." and then
my mother called ne to her side.
| thought as sat down at her feet, how
beautiful she had been in years past, how
| beautiful s. c still was, with her great, sor
rowfu black eyes. She locked steadtastly at
me for a moment, and then she said half sor-
rowfuly -
My child, have you promised to be Nor
gan Phillips wife !''
No, mamma, am young yet"
"YeS, very young; but if you have not
| promised, you have let him see these many
months that you loved him-that his presence
at your side was welcome. Now, lIannc, f
| you did not mean to wed him. was this right?'
| | blush.d, and was silent, and she con-
| tinucd:
81 know, dear, that Hunt II n1csly loves
| You also, and will not counsel you.-Your
own heart will be your safest guard, if you
will only follow it; only IIanne Stuart, my
child. do not let ambition, power, luxury,
anything tempt you to marry without love.
| The rctributon will be terrible, terrible"
! and my mother drew her shawl about her
and Shudlcred; albeit the room was warm.
Her voice was husky when she said -
81 will tell you: my poor girl, story of my
own youth. | had not thought to confess
your fathers faults or mine, and God know
which were heaviest but you need the lesson
and you shall have it. was motherless.
have seen a picture of the beautiful being who
died chat might live, bat she passed from
earth ere she had casped me to her breast.
| was my fathers idol, but at fifteen he died
and left Inc poor, He had been wealthy, but
after my mothers death he had trusted his
fortune TO faithlcss steward, and was left
scarcely above want.
| was very beautiful, the world said, and
| knew it well. The face that met my gaze,
as stood before my mirror, was brightly,
bcwildcringly lovely. had been educated
in conventional retirement. and my heart was
fresh and pure. lored! Hanne, you have
never known such a passion. 1t was worship
it was idolatry-it was the life of my life.
And he loved was poor Allan Grcame was
fatherlcss like myself, but was an inmate of
his mothers cottage. Very tcnderly they
cherished the orphan committed to thercare
knew that Allan loved me- read it in cv-
cry act: in the appealing tenderness with
which his blue eyes would rest upon my face,
in the care with which he anticipated my
wishes, and the intonations of his voice as he
addressed me.
But another suitor came. Allan Grcamc
had never asked my love. and had never
promised in so many words to be his BRIDE
but for many months he had believed me all
his own, and yet, when your father frs visit
ed the cottage, his eyes sought my face, with
kind of questioning sadness. Time passed
on, and seven weeks more beheld me Percy
Stuart's betrothcd. Looking back, cannot
see by what circumstances this change was
brought about. Iworshippcd Allan Grcame
as madly as ever His smile was the sunshine
of my existence. Yom father loved me, at
least he idolizcd my beauty, and he was
noble. glorious man. Still his presence had
no power to quicken single pulse, to awak-
en- single heart-thrill But he was rich and
nobly born. l coveted the proud rank his
love could give me-the stately mansion and
the old name. twas a long struggle between
love and ambition, but at length laid my
hand in his. Scorn me, hate me Hanne, /
deservcit, sinncd willfully. Iknew / did
not love him--that heart and soul were long
ago yielded up in a passionate alteration to
another-and yet became his BRIDE