The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1859-06-02

buried her face in her hands.
Not tear, not moan escaped her;
she sat there in silence, motionlcss as
statue. but in her heart what u
whirlwind Of emotions was raging
How long she sat there she hardly
knew; when at last she looked up, the
twilight was deepening, and she rose
with start from her seat. Her coun.
tcnance bore the traces Of her suffer
ing she looked haggard and wan;
the agony Of these few hours had
changed her iearlully, but her eyes
! flashed with all their usual fire, aud
her i ps were firmly compressed to.
gother. She drew herself up proudly
as irshc dcspised lorsclflor her weak
ness, crushed the letter, which had
fallen from her trembling fingers,
contcmptuousIy under her foot, and
then picked it up with a look Of dis,
gust, and if it had been some loath.
some thing, and putting on her hat and
shawl, she walked firmly out Of the
| room.
She went rapidly on till she reach,
ed a low, white cottage: she entered
! it, and passed quickly through the lit
/ tie sitting room to her own apartment.
Here she took from an inlaid box a
package Of letters, and adding that
she had last received to the number,
she hastily collected every mcmcnto,
however triling, which had been the
Gift of Louis Meredith, and placed
them securely together in readiness
to return to him. Then carefully ar
ranging her toilet, she returned to the
sitting room. An old lady, dressed
with ScrupuIous niccty, was its only
occupant; she was quietly knitting.-
The table was spread for the evening
meal. and she had been evidently
waiting for her daughters return.
"lou arc late tonight. Beatrice,
she said. but | suppose Louis came
for you to 20 TO walk. 1t is 50 foolish
to take such unreasonable hours for
his walks. Tea has been waiting this
half hour.
4 am sorry to have kept you wait
ing 50 long. mother, returned her
daughters silvcry voice, but those long
walks will trouble YOU no longer.-
Louis Meredith and have parted
forever,
The old lady dropped her knitting
work in her lap. and looked at hcr
daughter in astonisllmcnt; at length
she spoke
'Oh see; u lovers quarrel. But
you will make it up in II day or two,
and be all the happier for it. Well,
wcII--Bcltcr disagree before than at.
ter MARRIAGE
'Mothcr, said Beatrice, listen to me.
Shall never marty Louis Meredith.
Nothing on earth could induce me to
do so. As said, we are parted for
ever: and now let me beg you never
again mention his name to me: let the
subject never again be alludcd to be-
tween us. let all be as if we had new
or known him. Her voice soltcncd.
You will not be sorry, mothcr dear,
to have your Beatrice again all your
own ana she took her parents shriv-
clcd hand londly between her own.
Mrs. Lancaster was touched by This
expression of tenderness; for Beatrice,
although a most devoted daughter, in
fact the only support Of her poor and
widowed mother. rarely made any
demonstration Of her attachment, and
this carcSs, slight as it was, filled the
mothers heart with Joy. She drew
her child to her side and kissed her
tcndcrIv, but Beatrice escaped from
her embrace. and saying chCcrIuIly.
Are we never to have suppcr!' led
the way to the table. She talked gai-
" during the meal. and though she
ate little, succeeded in withdrawing
her mothers attention from her want
of appetite.
Not the most watchrul eye could
have detected II shade oil sadness III
her lace or manner, that evening; m
deed she was Saycr than usual NO
wonder that her mothrr-good' uhoD-
servant SouI--beIIeved that she was
happy in her release from the tic that
had bound her.
a lew evenings mad passed ana
beatrice stood in little S'tlInS,room
dressed for party. Never had Shc
looked more beautiful than no"' III
her simple white dress, with us Grim
son ribbons, and Il red rose IN her
halr. Mrs. Lancaster looked at hrT
in admiration, nor was she alone III
her appreciation OF her child 5 love-
linpgS