The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1858-10-28

youth, and the feeling that ought t
wait to know myself, if it were in
deed that pure, undying love felt fol
you, which could bear all, suffer al
for its object, or if it were mere
passing, boyish fancy. We were both
so young, that it seemed, perhaps, moi
wise to exchange vows Of affection
which might prove, some day, shack
les of iron rather than silken cords
Still this last consideration had but lit.
tie weight. But the chiefreason why
Inever told you in so many words my
entire devotion to you, was that it al
ways seemed to me that you read my
heart as an open book. 1t seemed to
me that my thoughts, almost before
they were formed in my own mind
were fully known to you, and that
nothing could say could make you
understand me ormy wishes and plans
better than you did and ever had from
the first OF our association. My very
soul, in my own estimation, lay bare
before your gaze. Do you not recoI-
lect that sometimes when commence
ed to express my feelings, or senti.
ments. | would hesitate for the exact
word and turn to you, with, Say it
for me, Madeleine! You know what
mcan," and you would finish for me"
She bowed her head and he con-
tnucd.
"OItcntimes when writing to you,
my confession, my avowal, was on the
nib OF my pen, but something with
held it, this same idea. that you un-
ders'ood all would say, all | felt, all
my expectations and all my hopes
besides ha' a shrinking, morbid SEN
si'Ivenes3 about putting such sacred
'ee"hgs Upon paper, for other eyes to
gaze Un save those for which they
were intendcd-not that | feared you
would show my cpistlcs, | should have
been willing you should have done
with them as you chose, for always
felt you would do right, but the un.
cert ainty Of mails, and the dread that
some one might, in some way, get
| possession of them to whom, that
which was so pure and holy to me and
to you, migut become u theme for
coarse, or ill.timed ,jesting. | &C.
knowledge this to have been a child
ish, an unmanly sentiment, but it ap'
peareG then to be part Of my ma
turc-and | could not overcome it, OF
rather did not try until | found what
it had cost me. nIadcleinc--l cannot
cali you by any other namc-l have
never been happy, never contcntcd
a moment since you were lost to me-
Ever restless, ever uneasy, my mind
has been like the troubled sea, cease
lcssly moving, never quiet.
But will not enlarge on my own
suilcrlngs now. 1t is due to you to
know what has passed since we par
ted, and Us that letter has never ar
rived, what was to have told you all,
you will have to hear it from my own
lips
Better so, n thousand times" ans
wcrcd his companion, Il can now ask
you what do not fully understand,
and You can explain satisfactorily.
something which could not be done if
it had been communicated by the pen.
| ihlnk you must confess fate has not
been so very much against you alter
ALL"
1t was yet early morning. The
bland summer zcphyrs blew through
the blosSoming shrubs Of the grassy
yard, Hutlcrcd the leaves Of the vines
which clambercd over the white pi.
azza, and stealing in through the balG-
closed blinds of the cool and pleasant
room, laid their gathered fragrance
lovingly against the faces OF the long
parted friends, as composing herself
quietly TO list n to what she 50 much
wished to hear, Madeleine said, "Tcll
me all. will you? | am alone in the
world except my two child'cn. have
ever believed you n friend, and friend
ship is never so precious as when
there are few to feel and profess it for
us. Yours for me, never doubted,
was sincere, and your seeking me in
this manner after omany years proves
it was not but a name. thrust you
have not suffered too deeply, too Sc
vercly, but tell it me- and she bent
her head eagerly to listen.
PART SECOND.