The Westerly echo, & Pawcatuck advertiser. [volume] (Westerly, R.I.) 1854-1858, 1856-08-14

presence, devoted myself to my own
pursuits, apparently forgetful, as l
sometimes was, of the very existence
of Mr.. Leonard Montgomery. This
piqued him he was accustomed to be
adorned, and though he could look with
sovereign Indifference on the bowed
forms Of his worshippers, the refusal of
one, however Insignificant, to bend be-
fore his shrine, was unpleasant.
BY degrees he unbent towards me.
He condescended to look at my paint
ings, to praise, and oftener to criticize.
l thanked him, accepted what was valu-
able in his criticisms, and an uncere-
moniously paid no attention to what /
considered worthless. He now often
sauntered into the library, and inspect
ed the volumes l read, sometimes read
ing aloud to nae, or talking with ME on
different subjects. My frank and care
less manner of thinking aloud pleased
him, and daily we were more together,
until he became my constant compan-
ion. His devotion was undisguised !:
he hung over my chair at the opera,
at soirees he had eyes for no one else,
and did any gentleman pay me marked
attention, it was sufficient to convince
him that he was puppy, and unworthy
the notice of sensible girl like me-
To all this I read that he loved me, and
the knowledge filed me with delight,
for knew that l loved him with my
whole heart and soul, with a love to
which the affection felt for his mother,
ardent as it was, was as nothing. Yet
| would not show it to him. | was not
blind to his faults l felt even that he
was one who, if snce assured of my
love, would cease to value it l dis
trusted him, and yet loved him. l
would have laid down my life for him,
and rejoiced in the sacrifice. 1t is not
true that we women do not see the flaws
in our idols: we love in spite of them.
l was content to know that Leonard
loved me, and avoided giving him any
opportunity to tell me of it. was
perfectly happy in the present, and
gave no thought to the future-sudden-
ly my joy was turned to mourning.
Our mother. in moment was strick-
en- down with paralysis /; all was swal-
lowed up in our anxiety for her, and
together Leonard and | watched by her
bedside. She was conscious, but unable
to speak /; and it was painful to see the
eager look with which her eyes would
turn upon us, as if she must speak be-
fore she died her lips moved, but no
sound issued from them at last, with
almost a super-human effort, she NUT
tered my name indistinctly, and her
eyes rested on her son. He felt that
she placed me uuder his protection.
dearest MOTHER he said, have no
fear for Eleanor. / love her, and would
gladly make her my wife /; but if she
will not consent to this, she shall never
want home nor protection while | can
offer them
She looked at me imploringly. l
could not speak. Leonard kuelt at my
side he placed his arm around me and
said softly,
Eleanor, will you be my wife ?
Il WILL answered solemnly, and
thus, in the presence of the dying, we
plighted our troth.
Our mothers eyes, full of love, rested
on us, and as if satisfied, she no longer
tried to speak. She sank quietly and
gently away, and died without a strug-
gle. /
1 mourned for her sincerely; but
with Leonard by my side whispering
fond words of consolation, could not
long be unhappy. With the elasticity
of youth, we were soon cheerful again,
and happy in each other, looked not
mournfully into the past. We still re-
NAMED IN our mother'a home ; widow
ed relative of Leonard's with her daugh-
ter, had at his request, come to live with
us until our wedding should take place,
which was not to be until | had laid
aside my mourning.
Mrs. Beauchamp, who had taken up
her abode with us, was lady-like per-
sonage who had little thought for any
thing aside from her housekeeping