Southern shield., 1858-03-13
ture ever knew that was in the Cave at all

ueu my Ihother, TOT your father has just l received news which obliges him to % to
 New York, and he purposes taking us with hlm. He thinks change of air will benefit you."
 This information, which once would have given me the liveliest delight, now brougbt 1 only dull satisfaction that 1 should leave this place which so detested and which feared would become insupportahle to me. when my victim escaped from the liying tomb in which had engulfed him. [ re 1 tired to my room, and made the excuse of a headache not to leave 1t all day. felt the necessity of caution, and was determin- ed to botray no outward emotion. know not II can describe my foolines- =.l4:=- ,aa riod. Not one thought of relenting crossed
 my mind. 1 would not have re- entered the Cave for ten thousand worlds. No! his words of love for her rang too vividly in my recollection; and the naughty pride with winch he turned away from me, was too fresh memory. I felt savage delight in ! the fright, the terror, the despair, into which l had plunged him. l knew there would be
 hours of searching before he could be found.
 and thought of the tortures he was then
 enduring with positive delight. But never dreamed of his death. No 1 can truly say.
 
 1 had quilted him in one of the thorough
 fares of the Cave, the most likely place to
 be searched. When left him there alone, 1 had no thought but of the dreaded hours
 of loneliness, which would seem like ages
 to him, that must eapse before he was dis covered by his friends. No one, to my knowledge, had ever been entirely lost in the Cave; and 1 never contemplated the possibility that he would head the list of
 those who have perished in that awful dark ness and silence.
 Late in the afternoon, heard the quick tramp of horse. and looking out, I saw John Haywood, Minnie's brother and Mr.
 Beverleigh's pupil. He looked pale and | frightened, and knew his errand before I
 heard him call my father out into the piazza,
 and hastily tell him that my former tutor was lost in the Cave. In moment. my father summoned three or four negroes,
 armed them with rude torches, and leaving
 a message for my mother, won't of te join | the search.
 So then he was not vet found. My wo-
 mans heart began to relent, as l thought of ! the long hours he had been alone there, and how faint and weary he must be. began
 to feel that his punishment was heavier than
 Intended. During the night that followed,
 in which no news came, 1 endured agonies as great as any he was then suffering. l | pictured to myself his desperate struggles to regain the path, and the uncomfortable horror of the profound darkness around.
 Then thought if he should by any chance l fall into one of the yawning pits with which the Cave abounds and my head swan and
 my heart almost ceased to beat at the aw- full suggestion. At length the morning dawned, and my father returned quite worn out. All the household rushed to meet him,
 but the sad look of his kind face told us, before he spoke, that no trace of Mir. Beyer~ l leig h had yet been found. 1 asked few eager questions, and heard that the spot
 where l had parted from him had been searched again and again, so that there was no necessity for me to betray my dark se- cret, and 1 felt that, for my parents' sakes, it must be buried i'll my own breast.
 will not finger over the horrors of those next few days. At one time they found his lantern, and that renewed hope; I alone knew on how slender foundation. Then the cap he wore was picked up; but after that, though all the neighborh0od was rous- ed to join the search, and the great cavern was Illuminated as it had never been before, with the glare of hundred torches, no far ther trace was ever discovered to point out which of the many fearful dooms he might have encountered, was the fate of William Beverleigh.
 A week passed, and all hope was given up, and knew the brand of Cain was on my brow, and that 1 was murderess. I had caused that man, whose life l would have saved at the sacrifice of my own, to perish by death too frightful to contem- plate. That being whom 1 would have sur rounded with every luxury, had pillowed his dying head on the cold stones of that remorseless cavern, and had hreathed out his last sigh amid its anutterable stiffness and gloom. This conviction has never left me, day nor ght. I have wept tears of blood to wipe out my awful crime, but all in vain. am ever consumed by the fires of an unavailing remorse, which is burning away my life.
 My dark story draws to close, and it is well my task is almost done, for my failing strength, and trembling hand, warn me to hasten its completion.
 My father took us North, and himself carried to Mir. Beverleigh's parents the news of his loss. But there were many children, and theirs was the sorrow which is softened by time, and cbeered by hope. His affi- anced bride. on whom he had lavished the affection for which l had vainly yearned, found consolation in her widoWhood in an- other love: and alone mourned and wept over his memory. But all my tears were shed in secret. Outwardly was calm, though my health failed so entirely that I did not return with my parents to Kentucky, but, by the advice of my physician, went abroad with some friends. Since that time, 1 have been a constant wanderer in search of health and happiness, always in vain no other man has ever offered to fill the place of my murdered idol. lived q lone. sad, and unloyed woman. 1 feel now that my hours on earth are numbered, and that the deadly disease which for years has tormen- ted me, is about to claim it's prey. Before these few lines shall reach the public eye, l shall have buried myself in a living tomb. 1 am going to re-enter that dark Cave, the threshold of which I have not crossed for fifteen years, and there will patiently awalt the coming of that death, which hope to me will be blessed release. The gloom and horror to which, years ago, I doomed my victim. shall be around me when dle; for think that perhaps from amid the silent rocks which witnessed my crime. my last prayer for forgiveness will find acceptance.
 Brigham Young proposes to end the Utah difficulty by presenting 2 wife to ol1 Puck frnYn his barena That IS