New Orleans daily crescent., 1860-12-26

of the fact that 1t was gloomy and sullen and dis
piritng, and that rain was beginning to fall with
dismal paster on the roof.
Everything took leaden aspect, and the rose
ate hue faded from life more quickly than tran
spire the evanescent changes of sunset sky.
|. She who had hitherto been so sufficient Il
herself, and consequently so impregnable Il
humiliation from neglect or GOODNESS, suddenly ha'
realizing sense of her lowliness of lot among thu
crowd who toll for sustenance, and, with q keel
pang, sunk in spirit to level with her situa
ton.
A sewing girl mate herself with gentleman
born and bred? She scoffed at the weakness tina
could have engendered such an idea, and shrunl
away from the assemblage OF social equals to hidt
herself in the quiet and dmness of the room where
her labor was pursued.
| This groveling of the spirit however was for
eign to her nature, and she rose from it ndignan
and defiant, angry and bitter with herself, ant
i filled with sentiment which she believed to bt
contemptuous hatred for the person who had sur
prised her into 1t. m
4 Mr.. Conyngsby Is visit was prolonged beyond the
original period assigned for it, but Christiana, il
manner, was as icily unconscious of his presence
/ as if he had never passed before her vision.
1 She was not permitted, however, to put him. il
she could, from her recollection, for his name had
grown familiar to her benefactress and friend, and
despoiled of the eousiny appendage, Richard 7
j was enunciated with increasing frequency by Alb
bie's sweet lips.
4 On the evening of the last day but one, of Chris
tiana's stay in Squire Halls household, she had
gone to window for the benefit of the last rays oil
the sun, for the placing of few stitches in near
/ " completed garment.
The task finished, her hands fell neryeless on the
SILL and the sad dspirited brow leaned against the
! cold glass.
Filled with scorn for herself she lifted her head
and refused to yield to the weakness that was steal
ing over her.
/ It was but for moment. though; why not
There was no one to sneer, no one to taunt no one
| to look askance at the pouring out of her hearts
blood, though who could there be who would do
| it so bitterly as she herself, when the tide had
| ceased.
| One more day he would live to her sight, and
4 after that, my God! long death Never, never,
never to see him again, or else, wide was the
gulf that parted her from him now, to meet once
more, and have between them chasm which
death alone could bridge.
All kind Lord spare me that He does not, he
shall not love, he shall not marry another.
A quick clatter Of approaching horses feet rung
out on the cold air. and as Christiana lifted her
bowed head and Strengthened her disordered locks
she discovered through the deepening twilight
that Abbie and Mr.. Conyngsby were returning
from horseback ride. e..a.
As they drew rein under the window, she turned
away, though not so quickly but that she noted
the instant's detention of the slight form in his
arms, and the whispered words, as he assisted Ab-
bic to q light
The time of her indulgence was gone by; no
human eye might rest upon traces of emotion for
which she hated herself
Placing her work to one side, she bathed her
aching head in cold refreshing water and smoothly
brushed the luxurious black FURNISHED tresses that
folded back from her face.
Then she passed into Abbies room, prepared a
light, and arranged some trifes for the change Of
toilet which she knew Abbie would ascend to make,
and stood waiting, her appearance with exterior
of composure.
Abbie was ehidishly demonstratige, both of love
and pleasure; and as she came dancing into the
room, threw her arms round the statuesque figure
of her attendant companion, saying, half Whisper
ingIy:
''Be glad with me, Anna, 1 am SO happy
In her little utter of pleasure she did not notice
II
her friend, nor observe that her tender clasp was
unreciprocated.
Had the first impulse been yielded to, Christiana
would have repelled her almost with blow; as it
was she lifted the hat from the golden cnrls drew
Abbie to the light, and looked into her face long,
searchingly, and even curiously, and asked, in a
low, measured voice
"Could you live if that happiness was blasted?
Would you curse the destroyer ~
"No,' said Abbie, to both questions; "but how
strangely you look. Arc you ill? Are you
troubed2n @
mo-" to both questions, mechanically repeated
Ghristiana, with forced laugh. ~ did but won
der if to the charm that nature had given you over
hearts was added an exemption from sorrow.n
81 cannot hope for that,n replied Abbie, quite
seriously; "but oh dear Anna, my future lies be-
fore me now an opening vista of happiness"
Christana released her hold on Abbie quickly,
as if dreading further confidence, and said, hur-
redly:
81 leave you after tomorrow, Abbie, and your
approaching absence from town makes it probable
that we shall not meet again. If aught should
come between us, or if we should never meet, re-
member that / am grateful for your steadfast
friendship, and thankful for my mothers sake for
the assistance you have rendered me.n
tWhy, what change can come?n asked Abbie,
I" Or what shall hinder our meeting again?'
GAS to the former, we know not what lies foru
in the hand of time regarding the latter it is death
and sometimes absence that parts the tenderest
ties l have thought of leaving here, of trying
wider field, of ceasing to be sewing grl,n she
wound up bitterly.
tAh, now you are not kind quickly re-
piled Abbie. :" You make me think that surely
by some inadvertent act | have wounded, have
hurt you"
q Far from it. You are always good and gentle
and kind,n said Christiana, with truthful mag
nanimty, a and ii is l who am perverse and way
ward and ftful past your understanding. Do not
letit worry you. Let me kiss you and then 60 to
your happiness
Pressing her crimson lips on Abbie's blue-veined
lids with an almost passionate tenderness, Christi
ana turned abruptly away, and withdrew to hide
the anguish which had this evening sweed to such
dangerous life in the darkness and solitude of her
own room.
CHAPTER III.
And Rosaiie loyed-not with that pure
And hOis pa sion which cndnres
But loved with wild and self consuming fires
A torch which glares-and sc c,rches-aad expres.n
]. f. H.