Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1858-02-24

Illus, anu seemingly Seuulue pleLy ioiio"in6 al
her words and works.
The time came in w. hich he resolved to unfolt
his love, and, at the same time, his secretion
he, pure and good, and set aside as he was iron
ordinary mortality, had yet guarded secret
but be sure that it affected not his honor. Ht
had been for a few days in the neighboring city
and consequently knew not into what commo
ton the village had been thrown by the depaf
ture Of new heiress. AS soon as supper was
dispatched, he threw on his cloak and bent his
steps towards the home of the beautiful Emily
No sound of happy singing came from within
He even ventured to look over the low blinds
into the room where Emily usually sat busy
with her embroidery frame; only an old lady
bent drowsily knitting by the fire. The cat
filled her accustomed place; but the little stand
was not drawn into the area of chimney com
fort, and the new glass lamp stood, tall and un-
hghted, on the mantel Still, he laughed lit,
tie at the sudden gloom that fell over him, and
knocked at the door with motion Drawer than
his heart.
"Oh, come i'm" said prim little Mrs. Coles,
with her usual bustling manner: Happy to
have you here again so soon, minister, only it's
queer how we've lost Miss Emily, amt it?"
"Lost Miss Emilym exclaimed Linaden, with
an emphasis that made Mrs. Coles feel double
| importance as newsletter. "What do you
mean, madame"
"Un, sit down, minister! They say bad IT,
dings comes easier that way, though the tidinss
isn't so very bad neither, only that Miss Emly's
great lady again, and her uncle that was-l
don't know his name-has died and left her 4
large fortln-I can't say how lnuch-and the
t'other uncle that is has come and taken her
away in grand carriage, and all that, and-but
hows your health, minister? Well, now, that's
queer, too," she continued, with mortified mir,
while her needles stood bolt upright with as
tonishment. "Wonder if he calls that pas
torial visit Who did he come to see, Won
der? What does it mean? Pin sure never
thought on such thing," she mumbled, half
| audiLly, after momentary cogitation, falling
| ,nnn her stocking-toe again; but it might
be-"
The good DANES soliloquy, and her slight
show Of anger, were not entirely uncalled for.
Linaden, at her strange story, had suddenly
paled; he felt his brain reel, snatched up his
hat and, with hardly civil good-by hurried
from the house. The news had seriously affect
ed him. Never before had his love been tried,
and it was stronger about his heart than bands
of iron. Emily was gone-and where? The
| humble, cl,ildIike, yet too lovely creature
thrown suddenly upon the glittering surface Of
| a golden stream, dazzled by splendor, surround
ed by assiduous fatterers, he feared for her in
teerity he would not say to himself he feared
| for her love. Yet it seemed so almost cruel.
lie had so longed to win her from cottage
home, to wed her in the free, glad country, to
cultivate her noble nature and fashion 1t to the
mould of his OVID; but now
AGAIN rich, envled, colrted Emily's weak
will (weak only in the first flush of gratitude)
led her with the tide, although her heart, once
wounded by the thorny pride and neglect Of
summer friends, babe her beware of their Ca
resses; yet, little by little, she yielded. Once
| more she occupied her olden scat at the gray
cathedral and Emily tried to believe that the
| dark -yisased pastor, whose bands and whose
PRAYERS were always just so long, maged young
autIrn-haired I.inaden, with his earnest eye
and graceful motion, but in vain. The sweet,
eloquent face Of the village preacher vanished
before the stern lines nature had given the cx-
celent curate and sorry am l to say that
E,nily's head was too often bent upon the go-
den-clasped praver-book, and Emily's heart and
thoughts travelling to = distant humble pulpit,
and resting fondly upon its occupant.
"Why did she not go there? the reader will
say. In vain might try to explain the subtle
reasoning Of q woman, especially one loving as
she did. and remember that un neither side had
tue love been spoken; remember, too, that to
| her he was now the poor pastor, whose pride
| perclance might smother the germ that loVli-
ness had fostered Her delicacy Of sentiments
! prevented her from going in person, although
she often yearned to visit the humble church
| where she had spent, she could not but ack-
nowledge the best years Of her life. Her un-
cle's home was one of beauty, luxury, and re-
6nement; ever ready landmaidens waited Oh
her every wish while, like courtiers to queen,
came suitors of distinction; and the gay world
,naryelled that she gave them no heed.
The first grand fete Of the winter came off.
Emily attended, and pursuaded herself for a
while that it was very delightful, that she was
immensely happy; but in pause of the dance,
she fanced (it could surely be but fancy) that
pale face lifted itself above the crowd of list
less eazers at the saloon-door, that those Deep
searching eyes, those soft auburn locks cnuld
belong to no other than tie village pastor. For
moment, her heart stood still; the bright
blood flushed her temples, then receding, left
her deadly pale and not till she had taken
several measures in the now uncared-for dance
did absolute CONSCIOUSNESS come back.
In dreamy mood, she had seated herself on
her return to be attired for the night.
"Who says have not been happy !" was on
her lips" AN very, very wretched," in LEI
heart.
AS slender fingers carefully smoothed out
and annointed the glossy curls Emily glanced
at herself in the mirror. She made pretty
picture, she and her maid; more beautiful wa;
fair Emily, with her locks banded back and
simply knotted on tue crown, than in all the
array of costly jewels. Suddenly, her eye fel
on an unscaled note. She took it mechanical
ly, and started to her feet exclairning: "Why
was this not given me on my return 2" ant
again she read the few, but significant lines
"DEAR FRIEND: Come to me, for an dy
ing. Oh, must behold your face once more
beloved Emily"
at is not yet Too late !" she cried, moving
hastily forward. "Tel Philip to put the horses
in again; quick, tell him quickly-it is a mat
ter of life and DEATH"
Preparing herself hurrie dly, she paced tht
floor till the carriage was ready, then praying
sue might be in time, silently entered, and wa;
driven through the faint starlight far out on tht
country road.
The night, or rather morning, was very bleak
and Emily shivered in her snug corner no
only with cold, however, for the transition wa
so sudden, SO awful, from the gayly lighted ball
room to the chamber Of the dying or the dead
it chilled her to the heart. 1t had grown quite
dark when she reached the plain wooden man
sion, whose faint lights fell feebly on the road
side. 1t was that chamber; she knew it, thougl