Delaware inquirer. (Wilmington, Del.) 1859-18??, 1859-05-14
$500 PER ANNUM.

Robert could not be found; all became con
fusion. The bride was removed to a private
apartment she neither wept, nor sighed, moi
tainted but she sat where they placed her
the functions of life seemed almost to stand
within her frame.
After much search and much conjecture,
the father of the bride went out, and hastily
took the road leading to Robert Murphy
house. twas a clam, pleasant, summer even
ing the stars looked down in clusters from
their deep purple clouds, gazing placidly on
our small, troubled world. There was a feel
ing of tranquility in the soft evening all
which came over the excited brow of the un-
happy father with a kind of mockery at that
moment, for his thoughts were stormy and
overwhelming. The sight of the pale patient
but most sorowful face of his beloved Agnes
was before his eyes as he walked hurriedly
on, and he could not avoid execrating the day
in which she had formed an engagement with
Robert Murphy, for whose unaccountable alb
sence at such time he could see no excuse.
Without the ceremony of knocking at the
door, he abruptly entered John Murphy's
house. The kitchen was most dimily lighted
by few glimmering turf embers, and over
the hearth Mrs. Murphy was sitting in a re-
cumbent or crouching position. She was quite
alone, the old man had been long in bed, and
the servant girl was also in her slumbers.
'sWhere is Robert ~ cried the father of Ag-
mes in loud, sharp voice, gazing all round
without seeing the object of his search
.sWhere is Robert, I say woman, what
have you done with your son 7"
He spoke sternly, walking to her side and
fixing his eyes on her face. She returned his
gaze withthe utmost GOODNESS and Indifference.
My son is now master of himself and of
good fortune, thank God.'
&c Rut xpbara 10 ha 7-rn,na,, tnl1 ,,,a o1I
exclaimed the father, almost choking with
grief and Indignation.
" He is gone from this coutry, then-do you
think would allow my son to live with your
daughter ?'
'Gone from this country ~ repeated the
poor schoolmaster, in a husky voice, and
passing his hand over his temples as if he
dreaded some sudden attack of madness or
disease. "Woman, are you raving, or am
mad-your son was married to my daughter
this morning, and you say he has left the
country now"
=" 1t is true he has left Agnes to yourself
"Great God is this true :" cried the father
clasping his hands, and looking upwards.
" She will never see him again. cried
Mrs. Murphy, with tone of bitter triumph
and as transient gleam of fire-light shone on
her face, her eyes were seen glaring with
terceness on the schoolmaster, and her whole
coutenance exhibited indications of something
approaching to incipient, though rarely psr-
ceptible, insanity.
The schoolmaster made no answer--no sound
escaped his lips for some moments; but
his whole frame shook, and his face was like
that of dying man.
"GOod Godl my poor Agnes-my darling
girl''-his lips continued to move in prayer.
l.. Aa.I -.
ply, in voice more and more approaching to
the sharp scream OF madness.
g Monster-fiend 20 cried the schoolmaster
suddenly Withdrawing his eyes from the hea-
ven to which he had applied for aid, in his
agony, and fixing them on the author of his
if you had only sent your son away
before you allowed him to marry my girl-if
you had only sent him yesterday, | would
have bid Gods blessing go with him and you
both, and my Agnes would have been happily
rid of him; but now-to send him away now
when they are married? Woman, there is a
vengeance everlasting-'
Henry Allen, this is the just retribution
of Heaven which have wrought on you. Re
member the past-remember how you vowed
before God to marry me yes, and Henry
Allen, we acere married in our VOWS that moon
light evening, before God yet only six
months afterwards you married the mother
of Agnes. That act of yours, Henry Allen, |
took away the innocent young girls heart
from me, and put another in its place-a har- |
ler and stronger heart, that has lived to see
you well punish this day.
The schoolmaster gazed on her with a be-
wildered look, as if he felt under the strong |
of a dream. "She is mad,' he said |
laff aloud. :" 1t is not possible you can-re- |
,ollect the folly that happened twenty or
thirty years ago. My Godl we are different |
people now-we are not the same persons this |
many day that we were then that was
,nly dream of foolish boy and girl. 1t |
,annot be that you remember it; it is impos-
iible that You could take revenge for that
low.,'
'Well, well-t'is no matter whether re-
member it or not. would not look at your
laughter sitting here as the wife of my son
10 60 out of my house, Henry Allen. Go
way, say and take with you as black
leart as ever you gave me in our young days.
"0ur young days he reiterated, still ga
ing with look of dreamy astonishment.
{ The woman is deranged,'' and he gazed for
second hard ON her face, and then again
ooked up to heaven, in deep and mental
'rayer.
A few more words of bitterness passed be-
ween them, and the wretched father left the
Iouse, oppressed with weight OF hopeless
orrow for no doubt remained on his mind
nut that the husband of his daughter had
most basely deserted her, in obedience to the
of his mother.
When last saw Agnes, she was still resi-
ing with her brothers and her father. She