Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1856-03-11

Inere was but little consolation TO his fears
IN the reply of Mrs. May. Lucy was living,
s, ouI there was an anguish in the expression,
nope for the best, and he said hurriedly.
"oh, take me to her at once, now, I" ana bo
pressed his hand on his throbbing brow, aud
Inen SINKING on his knees, whilst Mrs. NAV
huen beside, he entreatsd God, in a voice
.noHeo with emotion, FOR strength to bear the
.r.al 10 KISS the rod of chastisement, TO re-
oeNe tne bitter with the sweet; and PRAYED
his Master in the DAYS Of his ;,es,n..s,io.
and anguish. He arose, and with A csImar
voice said: =" L can see her now
AT this moment joined them, with Lucv',
earnest request that Clarence should come "a
her az once. We entered the chamber lust as
Ellen had partially opened a blind, and the
last rays OF sunlight streamed fairly through
into the room, and fell for a moment on the
white cheek Of Lucy, rendering its hue still
more snowy.
Alas Clarence, as bis earnest eyes met
these Of his betrothed-her whom he had left
in the very blush Of perfection, Of youthful
loveliness-now how changed! His heart
sank within him, and with a wild sob Of an
guish he clasped her pale thin fingers, and
kissed her colorless lips, kneeling the while
At the side Of her couch.
"Ciarence, my own Clarence" said tho
dear girl, with an effort to rise, which she did
supported by his arm. lie spoke not-hc
could not, dared not speak.
Clarence, cheer up, my beloved" But
her fortitude failed, and all she could do was
to bury her face in her lovers bosom and
weep. We did not attempt to check their
grief; nay, we wept with them, and sorrow,
for awhile had its luxury of tears unrestrsined.
Clarence at length broke the silence.
Lucy, my own dear Lucy, God forgive
me for my own selfish grief; 30 and be added
fervently, lifting up his fearful eyes TO hea-
ven, Father, give US grace to bear this trou-
Bile aright;" and, turning to me, added,
Doctor, Oh pray that we may have strength
TO meet this hour like Christians +"
When the voice of prayer ceased, all feel
lngs were calmed, but deemed il prudent TO
leave the dear patient TO brief repose and
Ellen alone remaining, we retired to the par
lor, where Clarence learned from US more Of
her illness, Of her true condition-for dared
not to delude him with false hopes.
Doctor, said he, with visible anguish,
I" is there no hope?'
mot Of recovery, fear, though she may
iinger some time with US, and be better than
se is to day 4"
"Then Gods will be DONE" said the young
man, while a holy confidence lighted up his
face, now scarcely less pale than that Of his
betrothed Lucy.
Day after day the poor girl fingered, and
On ce and Lucy pass together; once even she
W as permitted to spend a few moments in the
portico Of the house, and as Clarence supper
ted her, and saw a tint Of health overspread
her cheek, hope grew strong in his heart But
Lucy doubted not that she should die speedily
and happily; this conviction reached her
heart ere Clarence came, so that the agony of
her grief in prospect of separation from him
had yielded to the blissful anticipation of
heaven, that glorious cline where she would
ere long meet those from whom IL was more
than death TO part.
"Dear Lucy said Clarence, as they stood
gazing on the summer flowers, ''you are bet
ter, love. May not our heavenly Father yet
spare you to me-tO cousin EIlen-to happi-
ness.n
"Ah, Clarence, do not speak of this. Ii
will only end in deeper bitterness L must 60,
and Clarence you must not mourn even when
exchange this bright world for the paradise
Of immortality"
Clarence could not answer He pressed her
hand and drew it close TO his throbbing heart,
and she resumed, pointing to a bright cluster
IF amaranths.
/" See there, Clarence, is the emblem of
the life and joys to which ! am Fastening"
Three weeks had passed. 1t was the even
ing of the Sabbath. / stood by the couch Of
Lucy Nay. Her mother and Ellen sat on
either side, and Clarence Hamilton supported
IN pillow in his arm the head of fair girl
Disease had taken citadel, and awaited its
to death.
The man of God, her pastor from childhood.
now entered the room, and Lucy greeted him
affectiOnately and he said, sis it we'll with
hy soul ?"
She answered in a clear ard sweetly conf
ling voice: at is well Blessed Redeemer,
hOu art my only trust"
Clarence now bent his head close to the head
,f Lucy, and whispered in her ear, but so dis
,;nctly that we all heard:
" Lucy, since thou msy not be mine in life,
be mine in death let me follow you 10 the
grave as my welded wife, and / shall have
he blissful consolation of anticipating re-
luion in heaven"
The eye Of the dying girl lighted up with
udden joy, as she smilingly answered:
1t is well, Clarence; | would fain bear
by name before die! We were startled at
his strange request and answer; but no heart
'r LIP ventured TO oppose it. Lucy then said
Mother, dear mother, deny me not Iny last
'equcst; will you and Ellen dress me IL
bridal robe? | will wear it to my tomb -
Clarence also besought Mrs. May to grant
his wish, and let him win a bride and moth
sr; and she answered:
"As you and Lucy will, but il win be"
and her heart spoke, il will be a mournful
bridal.
Lucy now motioned US from the room, and
We retired. Clarence was the first to speak.
" You will not blame me that seek even in
he arms Of death to make her my wife Oh,
how much Of bliss has crowded into this one
and though indeed it will be a
sad bridal il will sweeten the cup Of bitter
ness which is now pressed to my lips"
In few moments We reentered that hal
owed chamber; the light Of day had faded,
Ind single lamp was burning on the stand.
Lucy was arrayed in muslin robe which
scarcely outrivaled her cheeks in whiteness,
ave where the hectic, now heightened by ex-
;itement, flushed in. Clarence seated himself
~ her, and she was raised to sitting Dos
ure and supported her head in his arms. She
,laced her hand in his, and said, half play
ully, half sadly "Tis worthless Offering,
,larence."
He pressed it to his fevered lips-his face
ale and flushed by turns. The minister
rose and stood before them, and in a few
Vords and simple, united those two lovely be-
ngs in a tie which all felt must be broken ere
L. q 49, -,