Mineral Point tribune. [volume] (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1854-1858, 1856-01-15

| shutting the door, approached her niece with a
face so full of sympathy and grief that one
could well see that she, too, had wept"
Margie, darling, what is the matter9 ? These
are not the light tears which Ralph's departure
might cause Is it anything which YOU NAV
tell me, dear y
g o, aunt !. sobbed Marge, without lifting
her head :" 1t was hateful letter, and-and
he called ne Miss Leslie, and said farewell. and
So"
q Margie, Margie, you have not parted in an
! ger Do net tell me that"
The low voice usually SO calm and sweet, had
| IN 1t such q tremor of apprehension and agita-
ton that the girl involuntarily looked up, and
saw with alarm that every vestige of color had
| faded from her aunt's face, and that her ewes
were full of anguish and alarm
/ "Aunty. darling, what is it Why do Won
look at me so You do not think he viii new
er-' 4 fresh burst of sobs choked Margie's
voice, and her head went down upon the cush-
ions.
" Child, If you knew what know If you felt
what | have and do, you would not ask whv it
| fills my heart with sorrow and dismav to know
that you and your noble lover have parted in
! anger Listen, my darling, and 1 will tell you
what had thought never could pass my lips ;
but believe there is no sacrifice, dear child
dear daughter. that I would not make to save
you from treading the dark and bitter path
| through which my steps lay for so many
years"
6 You, dear aunt thought you had always
been az happy as you have made every one
about you ever since I can remember"
+" When you born, my darling, nv sor-
row was many years old, as men count, though
new and ever young TO me.
g Time vas, Margaret. when I. too. was Young
and gay and fair, and /, too, loved and was be-
loved Every one that knew him praised and
admired Henry Murray, and those whom he
loved, loved back again with passion that was
almost alteration. Nv father and mother cave
me 10 him more willingly than they had thought
they could their only child to any one, for thew
felt sure that I should be happy And so we
were married and went 10 Henrys mothers for
our bridal tour. 0, those few weeks what
promise of long life Of happiness was bound
up in them and then we came home, to our
own welded home. That fairy cottage-I see
it now, nesting among the trees and shrubs
which quite hid it from the road Often, be-
tween sleeping and waking I distinctly per-
ceIve that delicious aromatic perfume which
constantly filed the air around it, from the
millions of flowers that were in their glory in
that balny month of June.
g 1t was the second month-O, nv God only
the second month of our marriage when one
delicious morning Henry came to give me tTae
kiss and embrace without which he had never
left me, even for a few minutes. His horse stood
saddled at the gate, his hat and gloves were In
his hand as he entered the room. o, how hand
sume, how beautiful he looked how nv whole
heart went out 10 him, and thanked God for
making ne his wife
g. Ny darling be said, 1 must entreat your
pardon for my forgetfGlness; here is note
which was left by footman at my counting
room yesterday for you, and which in my Joy
at coming home and seeing you again 7 quite
forgot
He handed me the note which I took with
look assuring him Of pardon. I found it was
from an intimate friend of mine, who had been
married upon the same dav that we were, and
whose husband was dear to both Henry and
me. 1t announced their intention out 70 dine
and spend the day. and told me to beg Henry
to come home early, as James had something in
particular to say to him.
s"' You viii come home to dinner, love, wont
you {? said I, after reading the note to him.
"' don't krow petite, said he, would like
it, of course, but I have an engagement for 3
o'clock, which 1 am really afraid cannot be post
poned-'
"' But it must be postponed said I with the
wilfulness of a spoiled child, who has never been
denied anything. 1t is the first time Emma
and James have been to see US, and you must
give me positive promise that you will be home
to dinner at two
60 Don't ask to do that, Mary dear for per-
haps l shall find it impossible. You know it
wont answer for young merchant like me, just
commencing business, to be negligent and un-
( less Mr.. Monroe can see me this morning must
wait in town till afternoon.
"' And so this Mr.. Monroe Is more important
TO you than the wishes Of your wife said
pouting.
90 Don't talk so, Mary, for you know it is un-
reasonable
"' Promise, then, TO come home at dinner
time
* have told you, Mary, that I cannot prop
erly give you promise. 1 viii certainly come
if l can
/ I'm sure 1 don't care whether vou come or
not if you wont give up so much of your own
way as to make the promise
. Mary 1 know that you VIII be sorry when
you think abeIt 1t, that you have said that
-
true, that L could have cast myself weeping On
his breast but evil spirit, believe, withheld
me. and | answered very coidly
60 do not think I shall ever regret so true an
expression Of my feelings.
/ 8. Do you mean, Mary said my husband in
a deeply woanded voice, that unless l viii
conform exactly TO your wishes, or rather COM
mands. that you do not care for my society
a. Exactly
/ Henry did not speak again, nor did turn