Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1857-1865, 1859-04-22

ASiN' .
Sir, said he, in tones which l shall
never forget, if have sinned, God ii
Heaven knows have suffered; and if, il
F's bereavement, he hes cursed me, thai
curse is fearfully fulfilled. Poor Mary il
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 struggles Of
her nearly worn out frame it is not for me
to listen to her language of remorse, that
sometimes almost drives me mad-,mad--
mad, he said, in frenzy, rising and cross
ing the floor with long, hasty strides
Then burying his face in his hands, he
exclaimed, TOO late too late / have
repented.' There was a long pause, and
he continued more calmly. NO human
means can now restore my poor COM
panion. Her moral sensibilities become
more acute as she fails in strength, so that
she reproaches herself constantly
'Ol if he knew, he exclaimed, IF be
knew how bitter penalty she is paying
for the outrage she has committed upon
him-he would pity her-and, if it could
be, forgive
Will you see her, sir p .rr
/ shrank from the very thought.
She asked for you, sir do not deny
her request. Hearing that you came from
America, she entreated me 70 bring you
to her. I promised her then that 1
would.
Il will go, then h'.7''
Up the cool, wide, matted stairs, he led
me, into chamber oriental in its beauti-
full furnishing, its chastc magnifcence.
There, half-reclining in wide, easy
chair--a costly shawl of lace thrown over
her attenuated shoulders; the rich dress
ing-grown clinging and followed to the
ravages sickness has made--sat one whose
great beauty and once gentle gifts had
made the light and loveliness of sacred
home.
But now 0 pity
The eyes only retained their lustre
they were wofully sunken. The blazing
fire kindled at the vitals, burned upon
her sharpened cheeks, burned more fierce
ly more hotly as she looked upon my face,
| could think no more of anger-I could
only say to myself:
%, how sorry am for you
She knew, probably, by her husbands
manner, that 1 was aware of their cir
cumstances.
Her first question was
Are you going back to America, soon
sir?'
The hollow voice startled me ; seemed
to see an open sepulchre.
1 told her that it was not my intention
to return at present.
20, then who will take my little child
back to her father2' she cried the tears
falling. Il am dying, and she must go
back to him. 1t is the only reparation |
can make and little enough, oh, little
enough, for the bitter and irreparable
wrong have done them.
4 hoped, sir, you might see him, she
added, a moment after, checking her sobs;
Il hoped you might tell him that his i'm
age is before me, from morning till night,
as I knew he must have looked when the
first shock came. o, sir, tell him my
story, warn; oh, warn everybody Tell
him l have suffered through the long
hours, these many weary years; ah, God
knows how deeply ..
Mary, you must control your feelings
said my host gently
Let me talk while may was the an
swer Let me say that since the day l
left my home l have not seen single
hour of happiness. 1t is always to come
always just head-and here is what has
come-the grave is opening and | must
go to Judgment. o, how bitterly have
paid for the sin, Forgive me-O, my
God, forgive.
1t was solemn hour, that which spent
by that dying penitent. Prayer she
listened to--she did not seem to join or if
she did, she gave no outward sign. Re-
morse had worn away all her beauty, even
more than illness. She looked to the
future with disdainiug kind of hope and
but feeble faith.
Reader, the misguided woman of Cey-
lon lies beneath the stately branches of
the palm tree. She sleeps under the
troubled waters of the great wide sea
Where the betrayer wonders cannot tell;
but wherever it is there is no peace for