Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1856-03-20

oeduty, Dut present cnarm and l0VenneSS o
its own. Her hair was snow-white; and he
blue eyes, though far from bright, were full o
tenderness and expression her voice was sof
and musical as girls; and I fancied that
could discern in it that she was accustomed to
speak with the sick and sorrowful for her part
it was clear by the deep, though quiet, mourn
ing that she wore, that she had woes irrepara
Bile OF her own woes not recent, for settled
resignation seemed to possess her features, as if
where the harrow of trouble had once. passed
the seeds Of patience and benevoience had
sprung up and efaced its cruel traces
| backed cautiously to the Fireplace, and
waited for the interview to be over with some
eagerness for | was getting interested in Pen
laurhyndoldovey and the house upon the hill
[ beat uR the cushions of the armchair, and
placed foot-stool for the accommodation of
Mrs. Aprhys even put a chair for the land
lord in the middle in case '' her" " should be of
a jealous temperament, and desire to be pres
ent. | was meditating as to what would bo the
correct drink for me to offer so obliging q host
css, when she appeared suddenly herself with
my tea.
Another cup,if you will be SO good, said [.
So over that cozy meal she told me the story.
/" 1t so happens" she began, " that this very
day is the properest of any to tell you this sad
tale. forgot the date, which no poor soul in
this village is likely to have done, but remem-
bered it so soon as ever | saw Miss Ellen's face.
She has been with the fatherless and the widow
in their affliction, since early dawn, and now
she has gone back to her lonely home, Though
the storm has been driving down this ten hours,
she has brought calm and sunlight to many a
dwelling and amongst the huts by the sea
beach, where there live men that would seem to
you mere brutes she has carried such help and
comfort, that they would risk life and limb for
the sake of her. Them that the waves and
winds make mock of she cares the most for, be-
cause she mourns night and day for one beneath
the seas; and especially them that are lovers,
the fisher lads and lasses, for whom she speaks
10 their parents and makes little golden road
for true love to run smooth on-perhaps, be-
cause she once was loved herself, and loved
again, and she knows what it is for two fond
hearts to be sundered."
"My dear Mrs. Aprhys," said, &" perceive
this is going to be something of love story.
If you will permit me to run up stairs for my
slippers, shall be back directly, and will not
issserrupt yod'SgaFih on any Tosoanv; bdssiHn
the first place, it seems likely that the tale may
be little protracted, and secondly, have al
ways found it impossible to appreciate sentiment
in boots"
This arrangement having been completed, ]
nodded to my companion, who had apparently
remained in deep thought during the interval
and she continued her recital in a low and feel.
ing voice, as if soliloquising, rather than ad
dressing another person
" can just remember what she was abou
fve-and- thirty years back; but my old mar
could tell you of her much earlier She lived
up on the hill there with her blind father, and
was as bonnie maiden as any Snowdon tor
could see. Many and many time I've seen
her lead him through the town to the market
(there was no market house then,) and there
the old earle would chatter and wrangle about
a penny; for he was awful miserly, and the
folks always let him have his way In the end
for the young lady, they we'll knew, would suf
fer nobody to lose, but made it right at last
herself | cannot say that ever liked tht
looks of him; but Miss Ellen would gaze upor
his white head and sightless eyes as though sh,
were a-worshiping. suppose there is a low
which child bears to parent, and parent to child
such as l who never knew either, can scarcel
understand. Anyways, she dotted upon him
and, indeed, he on her; but there are you know
two kinds of affection-one which only care
for the happiness of its object, and the other
which looks after its own as we'll" Il objec
ed to Mrs. Aprhys' putting the remark in th
peasonal form, but gravely nodded my assent
" She would have died to save his life, and
would have died for grief, perhaps, afterward
They used to sit together in the summer tin
under their cottage porch, which was then,
now, a mass of red roses, for he loved the
beautiful perfume, although, of course, the
color was nothing to him ; the lilies in the tai
close by, too, and all the wild flowers on IL
hillside, were lost to him but he liked to he
the wind coming through the trec-tops Of tt
copse, and bending the feathery tops of tt
ture that way, he said and perhaps she do
whisper more things to the blind than she do
to us NOT but that Miss Ellen was always b
to guide his finger right from cast to west
She told him Of the wood-crownod hill Peni
lyn, which the sun makes golden in the NOR
4 ing, and over whose shoulders rises old Sno
f don's hoary head from far away; of the harb
and the pier, and the great black nets on
shinge of the red sailed vessels putting out
sea. They could hear, 1t was calm day,
v shouts of the sailors as they heaved their {
chors, the roll of the oars in their rullocks,
dip of the oar-blades, and all the pleasant &
!. of the little town She read aloud to him,
- from an open book, all things that passed, a
/ through her music, warrant, they lost
t, little From quite early in the morning to 81
d set, when the damsels would be crossing
stepping stones that lead from the past
1t meadows, each with her uplifted arm and
full pitcher, and when the mountains to W.
IF ward were reddoning and burning, the teac
le and the taught would sit there-the girl {
her blind father. Now, don't mean to
m but that poor Miss Ellen had delight of
to own in this, besides pleasing him.
II There was, indeed one ishing-boat in