The weekly hawk-eye. [volume] (Burlington, Iowa) 1858-1860, 1859-02-01

Ihesitatsd. should | passake Il hh hos.
pitalisy; the hospitality Of one Of those
6snds in human shape whose steps take hold
on hell ! knew his euilt-why delay %
declare it Why LIS ut once, in burning
works, upbraid him for his villainy, and
dee as from n pestilence his sin-sursed
house? The man noticed my heaitatlon. He
could not Of course, interpret it, cause. Az
he repeated his request, the look Of distrsss
upon his face excited feeling ofp,ty, which
for the moment slightly 4disarmed my re-
sentiment and, under the influence Of this
feeling, almost unconseiously passed into
the diningroom
4 am sorry little Nellys mamma-V was
glad he did not dare to use the sacred name
Of wife(-'is not able to cit down with us,' he
said. 1t 10 many months since we have had
her presence at our meals. She 10 suffering
from the effects Of a slow fever, induced by
the climate he added, gravely, % he mo
toned me seat beside him.
The table glittered with silver-plate.-
Obedient servants brought, on the most
costly service, delicacies such as never had
seen before.
But the skeleton sat at the FEAST
l could not talk, save in monosyllables
My host ate hastily-almost carelessly-
waiting upon me with many abrupt starts
and apologies
Wine came. He drank freely. Soon he
sent the little girl and the servant from the
ROOM and seemed to be trying to nerve him
self to conversation.
You are from city, believe, he
said nerv0usly.
answered in the affirmative.
Did you ever know gentleman there by
the name-of-H. +. F@Y
I know him, SIR ! said sternly. looking
the man steadily in the face, and know
him also as a ruined heart broken man.
With an ejaculation Of anguish he put his
handkerchief to his eyes. 1t would seem
hypocr.tical. but the suffering on his face
was unmistakable
Perhaps you have suspected thsn'-he
began in quiyering voice.
Not calmly, but with the words of an &C.
cusor, told him what l had seen, and
thought, and felt
Sir, said he, in tones which Inever shall
forget If have sinned, God in
Heaven knows have suffered; and if in F. g
bereavement he has cursed me, that curse 10
fearfully fulfilled Poor Mary is dying-has
been dying for months and have known
it 1t has been for me to see the failing step
the dimming eye; it is for me, now, to
see the terrible struggle of her nearly worm
out frame; it is for me to listen to her Ian.
guage Of remorse, that sometimes almost
drives me mad. Yes, mad-mad-mad,'
he said in franzy, rising and crossing the
,s,.t
ing his face in his hands, he exclaimed. -
Too late-too late-l have repented.' There
was long pause, and he continued more
calmly, No human means can now restore
my poor companion. Her moral sensibilities
are more and more acute rs she fails in
strength, SO that she reproachss herself
constantly
A weary msurnful sigh broke from his
lips, as if his heart would break.
%! il he knew, he exclaimed again, If he
knew how bitter penalty she is paying for
the outrage abe has committed upon him-he
would pity her-and if it could be, for
give
viii you see her, sir 2
shrank from the very thought.
She has asked for you. sir; do not de-
ny her request. Hearing that you came from
America. she entreated me to bring you to
her. promised that would
4 will 20 then
Up the cool, wide, matted stairs, he led
me, into chamber oriental in its beautiful
furnishing its chaste macnifcence
There half-reclining in wide, easy chair
"a costly shawl of lace thrown over her
attenuated shoulders the rich dressing
gown, elinging, and followed to the ravages
remorse had made sat one whose great and
once gentle gifts, had made the light and
loneliness of a sacred home,
But now! Opity pity
The eyes only retained their lustre; they
w-re wolully sunken The blazing fire kind
led at the vitals, burned upon her sharpened
cheeks burned more fereely, more holly as
she looked upon my face. | could think no
more of anger-I could only say to my
self,
oh how sorry am for your
She knew probably, by her husband g
manner, that | was aware Of their circum.
stances
Her first question was,
Are you going back to America sir?'
The hollow voice startled me. l seemed
to see an open sepulchre
told her that it was my intention to re-
turn at present
oh then you will take my little child
back to her fatherY she cried, the tears fall
ing 1 am dying, and she must 60 back to
him 1t is the only reparation ! can make
and little enough, Oh little enough, for the
bitter wrong have done them
Mary you must control your feelings, said
my host gently.
Let me talk while may wa. the answer.
Let me say that since the day left my home
! have not seen single hour of happiness.
1t was always to come-always just ahead
and here is what has come-the grave is
opening and ! must 60 10 judgment. ., how
bitterly have paid for my sin. Forgive me,
% my God,-torgive'
1t was solemn hour, that which | spent
by the dying penitant Prayer she listened
to attentiyely--she did not seem to Join
or if she did, she gave no outward sign
Remorse haa worn away all her beauty even
more than illness. She looked to tie fu-
ture with despalring kind Of hope, and but
feeble faith.
Reader, the misguided woman Of Ceylon
lies beneath the stately branches of the palm
tree. Her sweet child never met her father
in her native land She sleeps under the
troubled waters Of the great wide sea-
Where the betrayer wanders cannot tell,
but wherever it is, there is no peace for
him. How often rings that hollow voice in
my ear-'Teil him my story! Warn, o warn
everybody
From the New York Century.
The Seventeenth of January.
l, Benjamin Franklin, of Philadelphia,