Democrat and sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1853-1866, 1855-05-09


loving words in the young girls ear, that sent
the rich crimson glow to her face, and then she
| would gaze with her dark beaming soul-lit eyes
into his face and pushing aside the brown curls.
from his broad forehead, press her lips loving
! " upon it and he would call her sswife. !" and
! clasp her tenderlyin his arms. Poor Florence!
she had no mother to tell her of the tempters
power!
She had given her ali of love such love as
! one born beneath a Southern sky alone can
know Her father knew not his daughters
dangerl he did not know that the naughty En-
glishman would never we'd the lowly peasant
! girl, but deemed his beautiful Florence fit for
any sphere, and so he left the lovers TO them
selves ag
At last the time came that Morell must go.
But how could he tell Florence that he would
never return? Would it be best to tell her at
once, or deceive her still longer He would
wait till he reached home, and then write. So
he told Florence that he was going away to re-
turn in short time. a
The poor child clung to him and sobbed bit
terly at this first parting. but no shadow offear
/ or doubt crossed her mind-she wished to go
| with him, but he said he must travel In haste
! and alone. a
MoreI felt his own heart pulsating more
rapidly, and he hurried away That night he
| was on his way to England.
He arrived at home in time to see ais father
! die, and his estates sold to creditors leaving
| him dependant on his own exertions for living.
! His former associates looked with coldness
| upon the now penniless artist And he left Eng
| land, and took. up his residence in France.
For two years he worked steadily, and during
all that time. sent no word to Florence.
A peng of remorse did sometimes cross his
mind, but he consoled himself with the idea
that others had done just as bad, and tried to
! forget 1T. Yet he could not look at flower,
| or hear a sweet air warbled, but be thought
of the beautiful peasant girl whose betrayer he
| he had been. At last he heard from friend
/ in Venice y, AT the close of the letter was the
following passage. :. Your pretty friend.
little Florance Celesti is dead-died they say.
ofa broken heart. All. MorelL you must,
! reform-I really thing you 60 too far. l
| thought you would want to hear something
about your chere annie, and so told you.
Adeux.''
The letter was from a man as heartless, if
not more so than Morel, who sat almost
supplied BY the intelligence. He had not for
one moment thought of Florence dead. and
as- arrisia.. 20 L.->. II frst gsaw her arose in
his mind, ne cursed his own heart that he had
wrought such misery He could not forget
her VOW I; he thought of her love and devotion
to him compared with his own selfish affection,
and her face pale and wasted haunted him
| like a spectre M :
One day French count called and reques-
| ted Morell to accompany him on four of
| Italy, Switzerland and Germany-he was to
receive a handsome salary. and concluded to
| CO. There was an unpieasant feeling about
his heart sometimes, when reviewing the past.
but in new pleasures he could easily forget it
He went. and the first place they stopped
at was Venice. Morel met his friend who
had acquainted him. with the death of Flor
ence, and together they plunged into the fash
ionable designations of the gay city. Morell
wished to go, but his travelling companion
was not ready, and he had to submit. -
He longed to know something of the fate of
Florence Celesti, and one evening he walked
out to the little cottage 1t was desolate.
The beautiful garden lay in ruins. the tall
rank weeds grew up close to the door sill.
Morell did not dare to enter though the door
was open, and the window broken, he could
not trust himself to explore the ruin which he
had caused The wind murmured sadly
throught the deserted rooms, and shook the
ivy clambering upon the walls, Morell almost
| fancied he heard a groan, and left the spot
sick at heart. He was beginning to taste OF
the cup Of retribution - - s.. -
| There was q masquerade ball given at the
palace Of the Count Giyanni Morell was one
of the maskers, and he wandered through the
magnificent rooms in search Of his companion,
| who had arrived earlier. but failing to find
him, sauntered out upon the paaz "a and
| leaning against one of the marble pillars, fixed
| his own eyes upon the glorious scene below.
! The splendid gardens were one brilliant group
of FLOWERS, over which the bright full moon shed
chastened light. while here and there gay
| rro1ans of makers were wandering or stood