Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1856-03-11
EVENING STAR.
THE ANGEL BRIDE.

| stiffness which pervaded the chamber whittier
| my footsteps were bent. 1t was on the ground
| floor of pretty residence in the outskirts of
the village of c.. Its open windows over
| looked a garden where taste and beauty
reigned supreme-a second Eden, which ex-
| tended with a scarce perceptible delineation
to the very margin Of a stream, where it was
bounded by white picket and by hedge of
low trimmed shrubbery, over which the eye
caught the flashing waters as they swept on,
| glowing in the crimson radiance of the sun
| set.
| I entered the house and stepped lightly
along q carpeted passage, tapped softly al
the door Of the chamber of sickness-aye, OF
| death.
Welcome, Doctor" said the silvery voice
of a lady, who sat by low couch, partially
hung with white drapery. Welcome, the
dear sufferer is now in a quiet slumber-but
must presently awake, and one Of her frst in
quiries will be for you
| How is your sweet Lucy, now?'
"She has been quiet and apparently cOln-
| Portable all day. It is her Sabbath, doctor,
as we'll as the worshippers, who go up to the
earthly courts of Zion" "0h ." she added.
while the sunlight Of joy irradiated her fea-
lures, pale with long vigils at the bedside of
her sweet Lucy, " oh how full of consolation
is the scene of mortal life and suffering of
| earthly bitterness, of expiring hope 10
| "Yes, my dear friend,' L replied, "your
| cup of afiiction is indeed sweetened from or
high. He took from my hopeless care a vic
| tim all unprepared even after a long and
faithful warning; and the reconciliation OF
| the sad struggle, the terrible anguish van
| quished, the fierce triumph of the conqueror,
and the piercing wall of exhausted nature,
| haunt my memory still; and even in this
| earthly paradise L cannot forget them"
"And is poor Edward gone at last to bis
dread account? Oh how fearful and the
gentle lady covered her face and wept
Some time elapsed. L fingered at the couch
from the stand a small though elegant copy
of the Bible, L opened the silver clasp, and
my eye caught the simple inscription on the
| fly leaf, "To my Lucy-a parting gift of
Clarence" had designed to read a portion
| of the Word, but thought was for a time en-
crossed.
had known Lucy May from her infancy,
| and she was scarcely less dear to me than my
own daughter. Indeed, they had grown up
like twin blossoms, and were together almost
every hour of the day. Seventeen summers
| they both had numbered-though Lucy was
some months older; 70 brother nor sister had
either Of them, and hence the intensity of mu
tual love Their thoughts, their affections
and their pursuits were in common. They
called each other sister," and their inter
course honored the endearing name.
And Clarencc-the giver of this little vol
ume in my hand-whO was he? Clarence
Hamilton was the son of my best earthly
friend, and a nobler youth, in all the lofty
faculties and endowments Of the heart and in
tellect, never rejoiced in the vigor of life and
early manhood. To him had Lucy been be-
trothed for more than year, and he was now
absent from the village, though we trusted,
when each sun rose, that its setting would
bring him back in answer to our cautious
summons. Especially had hope and expecta-
tiOn grown within our hearts on hat evening
yet had not a word been spoken on the sub
ject to the widowed mother Of the lovely Lucy
However, she raised her head, and observing
the open volume in my hand, she said in an
assured tone of cheerfulness, g. trust Clar-
ence will come home this evening. 1t is
now"
"Clarence." said the sweet patient, open.
ing her dark eyes and looking eagerly around
Her eye rested on her mother and myself,
and with a slight quiver and a sad smile, she
said. she is not come"
"No, my darling, he is not come but
there is more than an hour to the close of day
and then
"God grant he may come" said the maid |
en-, and she added with energy, eff it be His |
holy will. Oh, doctor. my kind, dear friend,
your Lucy is wearing away fast, is she not!
and then observing the emotion which l at
tempted to conceal she said, "but / am bet
ter to-day, am not?'' Where is Ellen-why
does she not Gomez"
Her mother turned an inquiring glance
upon me as took the thin white hand of the
young girl in mine, and marked the fee BILE but
regular beating of the pulse
''Shall L send for your daughter, doctor? ?"
she asked
L acquiesced, and in few minutes Ellen
was sobbing violently, with her face hidden
on the bosom of her " sister -
Ellen, my sweet sister," said Lucy 'your
father has told me that l must leave" AMI
her voice faltered, "my own dear mother
and but she did not utter the name of her
lover, for at that moment the voice of one Of /
the domestics was distinctly heard saying:
He is come. Mr. Clarence is come Now
God bless my dear young lady"
Lucy uttered a scream Of Joy, and, clasp
ing Ellen around the neck, murmured, Fa-
ther in heaven, thank thee and then |
tainted with excess of happiness Her swoon |
was brief She recovered almost Immediately
and her face was radiant with happiness.
Clarence Hamilton was pursuing his stu
dies in a distant college, and the letter which |
summoned Mr.. c. had scarcely intimated
danger in the illness of his betrothed. 1t had |
been delayed on the way, and but half the |
time of its journey had sufhced to bring the |
eager, anxious student to the spot where his
heart had shared its affections, and centred
it's hopes, next to heaven; for Clarence was
more than a noble hearted, high souled man;
he was the disciple of Jesus Christ; and he
was getting himself to be an apostle Of his
holy religion. He had nearly completed his
course of studies, and was then to be united |
to the beautiful Lucy May.
Three months before the Sabbath evening |
of which we write, Lucy was in health, and |
with her companion Ellen was performing her |
delightful duties as a Sabbath school teacher. |
Returning home she was exposed to sudden |
stormjof rain, and took cold. Her constitution, /
naturally weak, was speedily affected. aud
consumption, that terrible foe of youth and |
beauty, seized upon her as another victim for |
its mighty holocaust of death: At first the
type Of her disease was mild, but within
three weeks it had assumed q fearful charac- |
ter, and now her days were evidently fec.
For this dreadful Intelligence Clarence was |
not prepared. He learned, but he hoped |
more, and though his heart was heavy, hope |
kindled bright smile in his manly face as |
ontarad the parlnr Whara ha bad opa,t "a Il