The weekly Columbian., 1857-05-30
[From the n. Y. Dispatch.l
The Betrayed.
BY META GREY.

1t was the twilight hour. A young
maiden sat by her window, watching the
deepening gloom which, like sha dows,
fell upon her. Her thoughts wandered
far, from the fnwer-crowned lattice whei e
she sat, tn the home far over the blue
hills, which she had known in childhood.
Hers had been Il checkered life-full of
| hopes and fears. and cruel di appoint
ments. The full flower of womanhood
had scarce bloomed upon her, and yet
she had tasted Of life's bitterness. The
blossoms of love had been gathered. and
had already faded within her grasp !;
while thorns pierced the tender hand
which had pressed them so eagerly.
Her thoughts are now dark and apall-
ing. She turns from them to the calm
moon, whose silver beams meek the dark
ness of her spirit. The heat and the
burden of the day has been too much for
her, and the lone heart seeks rest from
the trials which press So heavily.
Oue less she thinks will not be missed
out Of the vast pilgrimage; the exit of
one sorrowing heart will not leave vacu-
um in the worlds bright page. Thought
alter thought arises of one who, with sun
ny smiles, won her heart but to leave it
desoate
The poor girl listened with downcast
eyes and faltering heart, to the delicious
music of his voice. Sc su pected not
deceit as over her soul the delilum of
happiness stole so softly. How could
her cheated fancy dare to think one so
| dear to her deuded heart could turn and
smile upon her. and boast of his Triumph.
Yes, he left her thus to- the worlds un-
pItied scorn to linger out the sad remains
of life, no hope bow awHis thee, poor
girl, but in Him alone who knows the Sc
cret springs that move the heart. and
who. with no narrow justice, rules the
world. Yes. hapess one. you were once
ere the tempter came-pure as the
morning light. unsullied as the meadows s
flower. washed by the dews of May
morning.
Bow down thy head and seek consola-
ton from the worlds Great Savior
From his gentle lip fell no words of bitter
reproof--no bitter scorn fell from Him
to freeze the soul ofthose even more sim
ful and abused than thou art. Gird up
thy loins, be brave, patient and strong
List to his mild exholtations, and the ra-
dance of celestial hope shall beam upon
thy shadowed brow.
Alas, there is now no fountain in life's
desert wherein to quench thy burning
thirst-no food to fill the aching vacuum
IN thy soul. The anchor of thy faith has
broken from its fastenings and hope has
set In the darkness Of despair.
Once more that shattered wreck of
beauty holds up the throbbing brow
The stars light up the heavens, and by
their light guide her steps through the
wood to the margin of the dark stream,
whose waters leaped and danced as the
evening breeze swept over them, show
ing beneath each shining wave the re-
flected stars that brightly bcamed in the
! heavens above.
She stood alone with her dark thoughts.
No one was near t. speak to the desolate
heart-to breathe words of sympathy and
consolation-and yet some gentle inAu-
ence moved her. 1t might have been an
angel whose wings brushed the foliage by
her side. and whispered o. h m e.
"Home, sweet Home" Memories of
the past crowded upon her. That spot
so deeply interviewer with every thought
had become doubly dear to her since
bitter disappointment had taught her to
appreciate that which will remain the
same through ell time.