The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1859-06-02
BEATRICE
LAl1CAS' 7 In.
DY MIRIAM F. HAMILTON.

1t was late in the afternoon. A l0Ng
row Of girls and boys stood in reg
ular line before their teacher. in a lit
tie red schooIhouSc, rcciting their
spelling lesson. while the remainder
Of the pupils id9ctcd in their seats,
piled and replied their books on their
desks. and cast restless, eager glanccS
out OF the open door, ond then at the
teachers face. for it was nearly time
for dismissal, and weary Of n long ar.
tcrnOon'S confinement. the children
could hardly wait for the tinkIc OF the
bell--the signal Of their release. AT
last the spelling class took their seats,
the bell sounded. and instantly there
wos Il scene Of conlusion-boys rush
ed out of the door, and gave vent to
their pcnt up spirits in whoops, ycl!s
and somersctts, and girls more quietly
but not less gaily, ran out into the
the open air. Soon their merry vol
ccS died away in the distance. and the
teacher was left alone in that just now
crowded school,room.
She was young and striking look
ing girl in appearance. Her form
was erect, her step quite stately, and
her features, though irregular, were
pleasing; her abundant raven hair
was wound in n sort OF coronal around
her head, in u singular but not unhc-
coming fashion: her complexion was
II clear olive, and her mouth firm in
its expression. almost unpicasantIy SO
when closed but when she smiled she
was positively beautiful, then her
whole countcnancc changed; her large
fiery eyes grew soft and tender, and the
pride and hautcT that spoke in her
every lincamrnt, marring her other.
wise almost perfect beauty. disappear
ed.
Just now one Of those bcaming
smiles lighted up her countcnancc; she
stood by her desk, in her usual erect
position, holding a note, yet unopened,
in her hand. 1t had been brought to
the schooI.room during the session,
and now that she was alone, she pre-
pared to read it. She seemed in no
haste to break the seal. She looked
at the bold. firm hand writing, and
pressed it to her lips; then, slowly un-
folding it, she read:
'for sometime past. Beatrice, have
been unhappy; you have observed it.
and TO your inquiries rs TO its cause,
have given false and eyaSivc replies,
but ] can deceive myself and you no
longer. | sought you last night with
the determination to tell you all, but
could not utter the words that would
| felt. give you SO much pain. But |
must trust to it. What my tongue
refused to tell, lmust trust 10 my pen.
1t is useless 10 hesitate, the sooner it is
all known the better for US BOTH
Beatrice. | find that have mistaken
the nature Of my feelings towards you.
As God is my witness, when we were
trolhcd | thought loved you. still
appreciate your rare lovcliness, and
better still, your many cXcelIcnciCS OF
mind and heart, but our affections are
beyond our control, and much as there
is admirable about you. ] no longer
love YOU. At first determined never
to acquaint you with the change in my
sentiments, but | shrank from life.
time of deceit. could not at the al
tar perjurc myself by taking those
solemn vows, and knew too, that yoI
would spurn the offered hand without
the heart accompanied it. | hav,
done very wrong in hastily entering
upon our engagement without prop
or knowledge of my true feelings TO
wards you. was charmed by you
beauty, dGzzled by your wit. and at
tracted by your virtue; misiook th'
whirl of emotions | felt for love. Blu
it is better for me to acknowledge ~!
faults, thun to commit a sin in leading
you to the altar while my heart i
another's. Forgive me and forge
me. Farewell, and may you soon fint
some one more worthy of your love
than your friend Gf you will still allo"
me that title.) LouIs MEREDITH.
Every particle OF color forsook Bea
trice's cheeks as she read-her lip
were white, her hands tremblcd vic