The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1855-03-21
Aunt Ruth's Story.

1
said, ssthat YOU once promised to tell me a
story connected with that grand house and
your own little cottage? Suppose you tell it me
On my birthday, it will be doubly pleasant to sit
here and listen to you. !"
The calm, happy expression of aunt Ruth's
face. which [ had never before seen disturbed,
suddenly changed to one of intense sorrow, or
rather, quick thrill of pain seemed to follow
nv few words This, however, was only mo-
mentary, in another minute the placid tender
ness so natural to her face resumed its sway,
and I discovered no other 81 gn of emotion as
she answered.
stYou shall have your wish, my love-" and
then added in low voice-"Itis right that she
should hear the promised history, and that |
should tell it, -
The latter part of her speech the venerable
lady rather murmured to herself than addressed
to me, then drawing her fine figure to its utmost
height, and folding her thin white hands upon
her lap, she commenced her narrative, which,
however, prefer putting into my own language
believing that aunt Ruth's natural modesty
prevented her from doing justice to the heroine |
of the story
sWalter is late this evening, Mildred and
vet I am almost certain that | saw him pass on
the river an hour ago. l may have been mis-
taken, but wish you would run down to the
We ought to have got through good portion of
business tonight
The speaker, fine old man of some seventy
winters, turned as he spoke toward deep
window, where a young and strikingly hand
some woman sat resting her cheek upon her
hand, and gazing with look of abstraction
upon the twilight shadows as they deepened
over the broad river, flowing at the bottom of
long terrace-walk in front of the house. Her
fathers voice suddenly recalled her dreamy
thoughts, and rising hastily, she said:-
EYES, dear father, j shall enjoy stroll to-
night, and if the truant has not yet arrived, l
can watch for him a little longer from the sum-
mer- house. We do not know what may have
detained Walter,' she added, tenderly raising
the old mans hand to her lips, che knows your
love of punctuality, and | am certain he would
not willfully keep you in suspense
Mildred Vernon was the only child OF
widowed parent. A beauty and an heiress, she
was, as mi be supposed, not without goodly
string of admirers, of these, her fathers choice
and her own affection fell upon relative of
her own, whom her father had brought up to
his own calling-that of an East India mer-
chant Accustomed from boyhood to regard
her cousin with affectionate admiration, Walter
Vernon deemed it an easy task, at Mr. Vernon's
affectionate suggestion, to yield up free heart
to her keeping, and he agreed gratefully to the
proposals made to him by his uncle, which
ended in his being, at twenty-one, the prom
ised husband of the beautiful Mildred, and the
expectant heir to her fathers immense fortune
To Mildred, however, whose ignorance OF Mr.
Vernon's previous influence with her cousin lee
her to believe that the declaration OF his love
was as earnest and Independent OF extraneou
circumstances as her own affection, their en-
gaoemcnt was very different, and for some TIM
the happiness of her young life seemed Wlthou
a cloud.
Situated in a remote corner of the ground
which surrounded Mr.. Vernon's mansion, wa
low, thatched cottage, covered with MONTH
roses and honey-suckle up to its lowly caves
;, and surrounded by galaxy ol blossoms Th1
snug and roomy dwelling had for years bee
the abode of Roger Lee, Mr. Vernon's gal
dener. Here, too, his only child Alice wa
born, and here, some years after, the stron
man and his young daughter wept togethe
over the lifeless form of beloved wife an
mother, and sympathy which had always exl:
ted between Mr.. Vernon and his faithful sci
want seemed more firmly cemented by tn
melancholy sameness of their relative positions
The little Alice, from her motherless CHILDHOOD
had been an object of interest to the worth
a merchant. Born in the autumn of the sam
wear which made him a widowed father, NJ
Vernon looked upon her more in the light of
= pretty playfellow to his own beautiful chli'
If than as the daughter of bis servant, and tn
kindly feeling was displayed IN the ilberali'
IS with which he provided an education for All(
Lee, better suited to her extreme lovellne
and natural elegance Of mind, than to her mel
conventional position.
?, Half an hour before the conversation betwee
Mr.. Vernon and his daughter, which we hay
! already related, Alice Lee might have bee
It. seen gazing as anxiously on the broad river
I'd the Young heress herself. Pushing back tt
$, diamond -paned easement until it rested upon
~ LEDGE of roses and green leaves, she bent oV
the low window sill till her golden curls toucht
1e the flowers which clustered round Sudden
es she started up, as the gentle sound OF oars m
n her ear, and raising face glowing with To-
We and hope, Alice passed quick y from the ce
ID taee parlor into the bordered walk wh
= led to the river.
"Sweet Alice, am not punctusl?'' exclalm
st clear, melancholy voice, as young ma
elegantly dressed in the fashionable cosIur III
sr- of the day, bounded up the broad oaken ste
which led from the river and stood beside
gardeners daughter
Eyes, dear Walter, very punctual, and ye
of of thought you long, and have been wa1lng
,at anxously for the sound of the oars But
look sad and anxious, Walter. What has tre
d. bled you?"
Fs The young mans brow grew darker
mr. then flushed to deep crimson, as he gaz
in with passionate earnestness upon the sweet I
100 turned face which rested against his should
4 and then exclaimed:
ny "Dear one, would you still desire to h'
Of Of the cause of my sorrow if you knew that 81
N knowledge must make you partaker OF
I'D Can your love bear this test, my Allce?' :,
ooh Walter!'' murmured Alice reproachf
ly w. as she hid her fearful face on his bose
tDear, dear Walter, can you not yet trust
l'h love?' -.
es ,ifs II do trust your love, my own sweet All
s ,nJ tb;e onlu odds to my self -reprOach, Decau