The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1859-06-29

90 down. and out by way OF the garden pass
age. rs we called il, at the end OF Which va,
side door, very easy 70 open, aud almost out OF
hearing of any one III the house.
The nursery clock struck eleven, and still ]
heard my mistress in the dressin' room bus
knew she must I've going soon now. Presently
there was sound as ii she had risen from her
chair. and fineied she WAS listening to hear If
all was still. Then l heard tbs door from the
drcssin'-room into the bedroom shut very
gently.
That was the moment for me to get up. did
get up, and, taking the sleeping child in nay
arms, went softly, without my shoes, out into
the laadiag (for / had left my door ajar my
mis- rcss had done hers, and down the broad
stagcaSe along the hall, and into the garden
passage before she had LEFT her room. The baby
stiIl slept, and stood quite still, close by the
gaftica door. In less than ten minutes my
mistress, with 4 candle in her hand came down
~ passage too. She was dressed completely.
with bonnet on. She came so hurredly, 80
ic3rfutty. and often looking back, and /
stood 50 much in shadow, in q corner of the
doorway that She didn't see me until she was
within yar,i or Two from me. Bus, when she
did see me, and saw in my face that knew or
Guessed all. and when, above every thing, l
held the little sleeping baby towards her III my
outs tretched arms. As though it We're TIE real
bar The real chain. which was to hold her
back, she stopped, and. with a strong shiN
or, sank down powerless on the stone floor
Of the passage at my feet. / had seized the
candle as it fell from ont of her trembling
wall. Then l kissed her. and cried over her,
and said l was sure she would not go. She
would let me take Il letter ont TO him-We new
or spoke his name then, nor aftcrwards-but
she would never 20 and leave the dear, dear
baby! Down in that stone passage i'll the
dead of night (for il was long past the appoint
! cd hour.1 VIXEN all the house Were dreaming
and ut rest, my dear lady and wept and sob
| red together; and all the Will" the Temper
| waited in the loom light. among the fir-trees
| for her who would never come!
| Ny taears, / can never tell You al that pass
| cd between my lady and NE that night. The
/ whole thing has always been a secret, ever
| since from all the world; and,e now. when
! the chief actors in il are dead, l have named
/ no names.
| / only tell YOU that, by Gods mercy work
! ing on her heart. and by the uueX pected sight
| of her little child at the last moment before
| The awful step would have been taken, she
saved. She loved the Temptcr, and by that
| bitterness, found OUT, too late that she had
! never loved her husband. But l thank God
| she was saved from 4 bitterness greater still:
known alone u a wrctched mother who Tor
| sakcs her innocent baby, and leaves for IT only
| III" memory of her name ruined and dIsgrae-
| ed
| She lived after that terrible night and the
illness it cost her were passed. to be cheerful
| III trying TO do her duty, and in time, after Il
sort. even happy; for she had more children.
and loved them as only a dreary wife, with "a
neglect ful, unsuitable husband can. But she
| died Young, after ali-no doubt it was for the
| iest-and no one but l ever knew what great
! struggle her life had been.
| That is my story my dears. l pray that you
| may never have to experience what that poor
| lady had.
We all sat very still. and cried quietly. |
| think we all felt of whom the story was told,
but nurse had said il was Il secret; ;tId we new
| or afterwards, even to each other haZardtd Il
guess.
| Ii had it. effect. Bella did not marry Mr.
| Joachim. That unsuitable engagement went
| eff. as dark. unWhoesome night viii go oil
| before the rising sun. When my Aunt D0ro-
! thea came, better and healthier life began for
| all OF us; for she was Il delightful woman
| who, in the course of her useful life chez uered
! with many a trial, had gathered stores of wis
| DOM sympathy. and kindlinesS, which She ex-
| rrcised abundantiy for her nieccs' advantage
! We are all married now, and. am thankful to
| say, congenially and happily. Our father,and
| our Aunt DorOthea, lie in their quiet graves in
| The Village clurchyard; bat Nurse PaTliet sur
wives them all. Very Old but very active, She
Is the delight of ouI little children. She lives
with me, rs the eldest of her nurslings, bat Of
ten stays with the others, and particularly
with Bella, whom she loves as tendeTly as she
loves me. She often tells my children, and
Bcllas children, stories that we both we'll re-
member but the one / have recorded she has
never told again nor lave |. nor has Bella
ever, i'll all our long talks with Nurse PaIket
referredto ii by single word