Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1859-03-31
lively welded TO- He regretted nv thought

fulness, ane my inactivity; he was good
man; bu: be was not one OF those stern,
positive, unwavering men, wko throw them
selves into the breach and save US. Ethan
Athol was to do that for me.
As have said, he often would come to
the study to talk with my father. Some
times ! would be present; not participant
in the conversation. but an attentive listen
er. The latest novel would drop listiessy
into my lap. would clasp my hands to-
gether, and silently gaze into that animated
face; it seemed to me to deepen in its
| spiritual radiance His eloquence was :he
eloquence of simplicity; there was no ego
tism about anything he said; he never SEEM
ed to be thinking about himself. He was
not one to sIumber upon the walls Of Zion;
neither did the voice Of his watchiu!ness,
nor his warming seem to say, as it so often
seems to eay in others of his profession, 81
have come to prepare The way of the Lord.
The enemy are upon US, they are at the
outer gate. Become ye holy-even as am
holy" Sometimes he would cease taking,
almost abruptly as it were, and look al me.
As his glance met mine, his grey eyes would
grow warmer and warmer, and beautiful in
their love for me. | would turn my face
away, and gaze out Of the window-ard
those soft, mesmericsl eyes would be still
| locking at me from among the shrubbery.
At last il turned out as it was to be.
loved him; perhaps not warmly, passionate
| lv, for women of the world, at my age, co
not love in that way. loved him with a
sort of calm, holy, abiding love-in the
same quiet way in which he loved me.
sought his society more; entered more
often into the grandeur of his soul. tried
to do right; but o! how often did fail. /
went less into company; endeavored to
store my mind so that could better appre.
cate him whom the Lord, in his goodness,
had given me; SO that | nigh, influence
others for good, just as he was influencing
me.
We became engaged. cannot remen-
ber the Time when he asked me to become
! his wife; indeed am not sure that he ever
asked me. But know that there was a
time when We wholly understood each other
when l would sit beside him, and pass my
fingers through his hair, aud look up, oh
now trustingly, into that face, fairer TO me
than all other fac,s.
IN the great fashionable church | seemed
to see no one but him. My eyes were ever
turned to the pulpit, and my ears drinking
in the rich tones Of that voice, speaking of
life, and hope, and love--of the life beyond
the grave, of the hope that waileth, of the
love that endure.b all things.
But serpent came into the Paradise of
our love. ii vas my passion and my pride.
A servant, one morning, broke magpif-
cent porcelain vase, the gift Of q dear ue
parted friend. 1t was lying in fragments
upoL the parlor floor, and a young girl,
very child, was looking with apprehension
into my face. was in a dreadful passion.
The serenity that had come into my face
during many weeks, went out OF it in
moment! My eyes were in blaze, my
temple veins were full, Gnd my lips twtched
nervously.
MY God! Whist have you done. Hortenser
cried, crIelIy and discordantly. Il could
Kill you--you little wretch!'
caught the poor chile by the shoulders,
and shook her roughly-so much SO. that
when let 90 my hold, she fell upon the
floor.
In looking up, caught the eye of Ethan
Athol. He was standing in the doorway.
Thou shalt not take the nume of The Lord
thy God in vsinn he said soemnly. CORN re
is it possible'
His face was very sad. and his eyes were
as reproachful as his tone.
Nv veins were Oh fire, and was indifFer-
ent. then, to what | said or did. His words
and his presence made me still more angry.
Anything is possible with me, Ethan
Athol,' said. savagely.
Anything r0icked, do you meant!
sYou have iniruded. s.r.'
sand am sorry for it--sorry for your
sake and for mine.'
Il am not responsible to you, sir, for my
words retorted,
But you are to God, your Maker
His voice tremb led--not with passion,
but with sorrow. He was quite pale in the
face, and he pointed upward with his thin,
white hand.
Then shall crave His forgiveness, and
not yours said. win you please to leave
the room!'
Miss May, shall never annoy you any
more
Then | shall be all the more thankful
for il
He was gone. There was something SO
cold, go stern, SO different from him, in that
last glance, that | shuddereA.
could not restore the broken vase; It
was nothing. could not estore that bro
ken friendship; it wac ali the world TO me.
Oh, how regretted those words; how
wept. and mourned, and prayed! would
have gone down into the dust at his feet,
as paced my room that evening. Yes, l.,
proud, arrogant, deiiant--at whose fest
others had knelt, would have knelt in the
deepest humility of soul to that plain, quiet,
unassuming Missionary of the Gross! All.
love worketh strange things.
But t was ,os late. He never came to
our house again. never met him, save on
the stree, and he simply bowed TO NE as
q HleHC. uiu Hot 20 my uiOIe 10 near MIN
preach. His voice wou'd have brought that
fatal hour 10 my rsemory, and would haze
grown more wretched than ever in my SELF
abuse ment. His lshcrs soon called him
elsewhere, and did not see him ugain for
three years. heard of him often, though;
some of his sermons but more often, beau
tiful extracts from them, came floating 10
me through the newspspe world.
put my better nature ehnd me; again