Demoine courier., 1856-11-27

suppress my disappointment, received
my fathers kiss. and went back 10 my
room. But slumber still fed from my
weary eye!ids. Ny longing to beg
Amy's forgiveness amounted TO FRENZY;
and after watching for the morning wha,
seemed to mi hours, ny anguish became
so in,olerable ,ha, ! FLED once more TO
my father, and with tears streaming
down my cheeks, | knelt by his eide. be
seeching him 10 60 with me TO Amy that
minute; adding. in a whisper
"She may ole before che ha, forgiven
me-"
He laid his hand upon my burning
cheek, and after q moments ,hought re-
Piled
II will 60 with you my child.'
In a .sw minutes we were on our
way. As we approached Mrs. sincln;r's
cottage, wa perceived lights hurrying
from one room to another. Shuddering
with an undefnable dread, l drew rloser
TO my lathe He softly opened the
gate and silently we passed through il.
The doctor who was just leaving the
door. seemed greatly surprised to NEE.
us there at that hour. Words cannot
describe my feelings. when in answer to
my fathers inquiries, he told US that Amy
was sick with = brain fever.
Her mother tells me-" he continued.
"thai she has no. been well for some
days. bu, that she was unwilling 10 re.
main from school. She came homo yes-
terday afternoon, j: seems, very unlike
herself. She took no supper, bu, ga,
q, the table, mute, as il stupefcd with
grief. Her mother tried every way 10
draw from her the cause Of her sorrow,
but in vain. She went 10 bed with the
same heart broken appearance, and in
less than an hourI was summoned. ln
her delirium che he's been calling upon
yon, dear Ruth, beseeching you. with
The most mournful earnesiness, TO pity
and TO save her."
Bessie. may sou rever know how his
words. pierced my heart!
Ny earnest pIras 20 see Amy just one
minute prevailed with her widow I'd
mother. Kindly taking my hand-lhe
murderer s-she led me To the sick
| chamber. As I looked on the sweet
sufferer, all hope deserted me. The
shadows OF death were airesdy on her
I forehead. and IN her large blue ayes
Kneelipg by her bed, in whispered words
my heart pleaded, oh, so earnestly! for
forgiveness. But, when | booked SO en-
irsatiugly towards her,in her delIrious
! gaze there was no recognition No.
Bessie! ! never was to be comiorfed BY
she assurance Of her pardon.
When mex. saw Amy, she was A.
sleep. The bright flush had faded from
her cheek, whose marble p~aleness was
shaded by her long eyelashes. Delirium
had ceased. and her aching heart vas
snll. That small white hand, which had
been held oui remblingly to receive the
blows of The harsh %ferIle. now lay loving
ly folded within the other. Never again
would leara flow from those gentle eyes,
nor that bosom heave with sorrow. Tha:
sleep was the sleep Of death.
My grief was wilder it no. deeper
than that mothers Of whose lost treasure
l had robbed her. She forgavs me; but
l could not forgive myself. VIVA. a
long. long winter followed. Ny suffer
ings threw me into a fever. aud in my
delirium | called continually upon Amy
But God listened to the prayers of my
dear father. aud raised me from this sick
ness. And when the ligh, footsteps Of
Spring were seen uoon the green earth.
4 -
and early flowers were sprinsing up a.
around the grave Of Amy, for the first
time l was allowed to visitit.
My head swam as l read, lsttered so
carefully on the white ,sblet;
AMY LINCLAlR,
FELL AsLEEP SEPTEMBER THIRD.
Beside tina. fresh turf ! knel, down and
offered as l 'rus, the prayer Of faith. II
was there relieved and strengthened too
Bessis,'' said aunt Ruth as she laid her
hand 'enderly upon .ha.young head bow
ed down upon her lap.
Poor Bessis's tears ha5 long been
flowing. and now her grief seemed un-
comfortable. Nor did her aunt attempt
consolation; for she hoped there was a
healing in that sorrow.
"Prsy Tor ns!'' whispered Bessie, as
At length. looking up through her tears.
she flung her acme about her auni; and
l. - go = =. LM A- - -