Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1855-05-05

She grew up TO be Young lady, doing eve
ry thing for every body in such an unosteniious,
quiet, matter-of-course way, that nobody knew
the extent of her kindness. Aud yet Dolly,
was, in the eyes of many, very commonplace
parsonage. She had no airtations, and no
coquettish airs. She did not think that every
young man who spoke TO her kindly was in
love with her. She was not on the lookout
for husband. She did not keep herself
primod and loaded, like a sporisman's gun,
ready for every game that could be started
and she had never troubled herself with guess
ing how soon she should be married. or wonder
ing whether she should die an old maid.
With all her good qualities, no body in the
village seemed inclined to marry her. Every
body felt that she was blessing to the little
community in which she lived but a blessing,
like the town-pump, which was best shared in
common.
She was not much past twenty when she be-
came acquainted with young farmer by the
name Of Fanshaw, who resided 10 a neighbor-
ing town.
Fanshaw was an athletic man, with black
hair curling close 10 his head, and black, glow
ton, and more than common ability, but his
temper was vicious. lie made up bis mind
that Aunt Dolly must be his wife, and his frs,
advances being looked on by the family with
some GOODNESS, he become tho more determined
10 gain his object. He was respectful he was
attentive, he was deierenlia to the prejudices of
the father, he made presents 10 the mother, and
was incessant in his attentions 10 the daughter.
The parents congratulated themselves that the
influence of their child had produced such
kindly effect on her suitor, and fancied that she
could live happily with the man, whose disposi-
ton, although naturally perverse, had, to all
appearance, changed materially for the better.
They did not imagine that his altered dcmean-
or was the result of the temper they deplored,
and grew out of his determination to accom-
plsh his object
Doroihea had not known what it was to love
and as Fanshaw was very kind to her, and her
parents consented TO his proprosal, she knew Of
no reason why she should decline it. There
was, however, in her heart an instructive re-
luc,ance to the union; and her mother, MOTTO
ing her uneasiness, told her, what she believed
to be true, that arose only from a natural de-
preston of spirits at the thought of leaving
home !; and so she was persuaded.
Aunt Dolly did not live long with him be-
fore ho exhibited his evil spirit, and the meek
ness with which she bore his malice impelled
him TO the commission of now crneliies. lie was
angry with himself on account of his own will
fitness he was angry with himself that he
should SO trample on her gentleness and this
feeling, instead Of leading him 10 repentance,
goaded him on to new insults. The unvarying
kindness of his wife was perpetual rebuke,
and his perverse spirit defed il. In the con-
fict of his feelings he fed the devil within him
with intoxicating drinks and consummated his
cruelty with the personal violence of drunk
en- maniac. This storm Of afIliciion Aunt
Dolly bore without murmur ; and although i,
was known that she suffered, God only knew
how much.
Ia four years, the greater part Of Fanshaw's
property was spent in dissipation; and the
stalwart man, type of the wreck of his fortuue
became but the shadow of his former self
1t was a stormy winters night that Fanshaw
breaihed his last. He had been suffering from
qrain-lever, but as midnight approached, his
delirium passed away, and he lay quiet but
very weak. His wife told the attendant tC
take some rest, while she watched with the pa.
tient A door was open that communicated
with an adjoining room, where slept their in.
fant child. A shaded lamp in this apartment
furnished all the light for the sick man S cham
ber, except that which came from the wood-fire
Aunt Dolly was seated in an armchair closs
ty her husbands bed. For some time all wal
quiet, save the wailings Of the storm without
and his eye was fved intenily on his wife ant
as he eazed steadily on her sweet face, pal'
and worn with care, yet beautiful in its mild
ness, the thoughts of his brutal treatment ant
| her patient endurance pressed upon him, not I,
J madden him, not to goad him on as in his lif,
of strength, but TO steady for the moment hi
tottering reason, and eneTgize his failing vital
iiy.
, 'Dollyr and as the voice came from IN,
+ sick-bed, she leaned over anxiously, and in.
{ quired, What can do for youi'
''Do for me, Dolly what have you not don,
and suffered for me! You have always beel
! kind and faithful to me have as invariabl,
a wronged you. o Dolly can you, can yor
: forgive my brutalityP
At these words Of kindness, go new ant
7 strange for him, she clasped his hand gently IL
, heEs, and replied, with sobs, God knows for
D give you whatever you have done amiss to me
Q know your own disposition is peculiar
know we all have faults. do not wish u
!, Judge you. do not love to have you speak l.
3 me as il you were so very wicked you did no
s mean to wrong me. You must not feel badi
t about the past you must forgive all my short
y coming. anu but poor, weak woman.
S have often made you angry when ! meant :
: please you, and ! am sure you will pardon al
, my infmities. WIN you not, husband =
AS she leaned over the bed, the tears still
i falling from her eyes, pleading with him to for
= give her, the amiabe weakness that could $
drive away all traces Of his cruelty, and so hol
= up for pardon all that could be imagined again'
herself, while it deeply impressed him, was to
s noongruous to escape mind naturally penG
= tralingi and with faint and ghastly smile, I'll
@ reflection of his ESTABLISHMENT, he said 81
9 dying man must not deceive himself; and
> the hlqssin0 of one who has heeu most cruel