The Union and eastern journal. [volume] (Biddeford [Me.]) 1854-1858, 1856-11-21
Misffllaneuns.
BEATRICE LANCASTER.

!, ofsirls and boys stood in a regular line b
fore their teacher, in the little red scho
b house, reciting their spelling lesson, Will
q the remainder Of the pupils 6dgetted in the
seats, piled and replied their books on the
desks, and cast restless, eager glances out
E the open door, and then at the teachers lac
for 1t was nearly timo for dismissal, an
, weary off long afternoons confinement, Il
children could hardly wait for the tinkle
the bell the signal Of their release. At La
, the spelling class took their seats, the be
sounded, and instantly there was a scene
, confusion-boys rushed out Of the door, nm
gave vent to their pent upspirits in whooP'
yells and sumnerssts and girls more quiet
ly but no. less gaily, ran out into the ops
air. Soon merry voices died away in th
distance, and the teacher was left alone II
that Just now crowded school-room.
She was young and striking-lookinggiri
Her form was erect, her step stately, ant
her features, though irregular, were pleas
ing; her abundant raven hair was woun'
in sort of coronal around her head in
singular but not unbecoming fashion; he
complexion was clear olive, and her mouth
firm in its expression. almost unpleasantiy
no when closed, but when she smiled sh'
was positively beautiful then her whole
countenance changed; her large, fiery eye
grew soft and tender, and the pride and
hauteur that spoke in her every lineamcn'
marring her otherwise almost perfect beauty
disappeared.
Just now one Of those beaming smiles
lighted up her countenance she stood by
her desk, in her usual erect position, hold
ing note, yet unopened, in her hand. 1t
had been brought to the school-room during
the session, and now that she was alone, she
prepared tn read it. She seemed in no haste
to break the seal. She looked at the bold,
firm handwriting, and pressed it to her
lips; then, slowly unfolding it, she read;
"For some time past, Beatrice, l have
been unhappy; you have observed it, and to
your inquiries as to its cause, have given
false an evasive replies, butt can deceive
myself and you no longer. / sought you
al, but could not utter the words that
would, felt give you so much pain. But
must do it. What my tongue refused to
tell, must not intrust to my pen. 1t is
useless to hesitate; the sooner all IS known,
the better for US both. Beatrice. l find that
have mistaken the nature Of my feelings
towards you. As God is my witness, when
we were bctrothed, l thought loved. /
still appreciate your rare lovcliness, and
better still. many Of your excellcncies of
mind and heart but our affections are be-
yond our control, and, much as there is ad-
mirable about you, I no longer love you.
At FIRST determined never to acquaint you
with the change in my sentiments, but /
shrank from lifetime Of deceit. l could
not at the altar perjure myself by taking
those solemn vows, and knew, too, that
you would spurn tho offered hand without
the heart accompanicdit. Ihavo done very
wrong in hastily entering upon our engage
ment without proper knowledge OF my
true feelings toward. you. Twas charmed
by your beauty, dazzled by your wit, and
attracted by your virtue mistook the
whirl of emotions felt for love. But 1t is
better for me to acknowledge my fault, than
to commit sin in leading you to the altar
while my my heart Is anothers. Forgive
mo and forget me. Farewell. and may you
soon find some one more worthy Of your love
than your friend, (if you still allow me to
claim that title. LOUIS MEREDITH"
Every particle Of color forsook Beatrico's
checks as she read-her lips were white, her
hands trembled 50 violently she could scarce.
ly hold tho letter, death.like faintness
stole over her, and she sank into chair and
buried her face in her hands. r
Not tear, not moan escaped her she
sat there in silence, motionless as n statue,
but in her heart what whirlsind Of emo
tious was raging? How long she sat there
she hardly knew; when ut last she looked
up, the twilight was deepsn,ng, and she rose
with start from hor seat. Her counte-
nance bore the traces ofsuffsring-she looked
haggard and wan; the agony Of those few
hours had changed her fearfally, but her
eyes flashed with all their usual iire, and her
lips were firmly compressed together. She
drew herself up proudly. as If she dcspised
herself for her weakness, crushed the letter,
which had fallen from her trembling fingers,
contemptuously under foot, and then picked
il up with look Of disgust, as If 1t had
been some loathsome thing, and putting on
her hat and shawl, she walked firmly out oil
tho room. ll a..rr..lr .r. obs. ''
She went rapidly on till she reached q low,
white cottage; she entered 1t, and passed
quickly through the little sitting-room to
her own apartment. Here she took from ~
inlaid boz q package Of letters, and addin:
that she had last received to the number
she hastily collected every mement', how,
ever triaing. which had been the gin of Loui
Meredith, and placed them securely toseth
er in readiness 10 return to him. Then care
fully arranging her t,ilct. she returned Il
the si,ting room. An old lady dressed with
scrupulous nicely, was its only occupant
she was quietly knitting. The table Wa
spread for the evenings meal. and she ha'
evidently been waiting for her daughter
return. .HE 80 "
You are late tonight, BEATRICE" sh
said, "bat I suppose Louis came for you :
20 to walk. It 10 50 foolish to take sue