Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1860-06-16
THE RECrOR,s DAUGHTER.
BY KATE STANLEY

could listen 10 the wind with less disturbance.
Now and then il would go out in a mi ad shrek
upon the night watches, like the wall Of a
mother over her lost child-that wall of a
crushed hope. Fitfully, at first, as if the
weeper dared not to weep aloud then more
distinct, until it swelled into 8 thrilling wall
that made one start with fright, and then it
would die away family, as if heart were break
ing and life had departed with the last notes
of that sad, Plaintive voice.
There is an old tree above the wing that
contains the library, and we-that is Willis
and I-could hear it tussling with that mad
wind, like human being Struggling with some
bitter foe. We had listened to it an hour or
more in perfect silence. L was reading by the
hre-light, and paused to listen, when it ceased
j looked for my companion; he stood Dy the
window which overlooked the village road.
He had opened one of the shutters and was
gazing out into the night.
''There he gOes-the spirit of the storm"
As he spoke there was bright fash of light
ming, and 1 stood by his side watching the
village road. 1t was quick, anxious glance,
yet saw black horse and its rider dash
madly over the old bridge, and the next mo-
ment they were lost in the darkness. Then
followed a crash Of thunder that shook the
earth itself, and then went rolling away
among the mountains; now louder echOing
from some cliff OF moOrinS. through some far
on glen, until 1t died away, and stiffness en-
sued more sublime than the voice that prec g.
ded it.
s'Did you know Aline Thomas? She grew
up while you were away. She was beautiful,
proudly beautiful, with her dark, mournful
eyes and pale features, and her form-it was
light and graceful And very kind and
gentle, too, was Aliue-ever by the sick couch
OF some poor stranger, or aiding the poor
stranger on his lone filgrimsge. / verify be-
heve there was not an old man who did not
dream of her when be dreamed of angels in
heaven. Never was there one more beautiful
than Aline-none, save one"
Willis paused for an instant as he uttered
that last sentence, and / saw a shade of sup
pressed grief pass, like a cloud in swift wind,
across his face / knew that be stood in the
presence Of holy vision. And, as the past
went before him with stately tread and solemn
meln-as the love past ever goes before US in
these latter years-I turned my face, and left
him to the communion of that sweet dream.
He remembered the story be was telling so
longer. He remembered only that vision.
Long years since he had buried it out of his
sight He heard the wind no longer; he heard
only that low voice, now musical with laugh
ter, now with song.
As natural consequences Of her position
for she was the rector daughter-and her sim
gular beauty, Aline Thomas was sometimes
imperiOus and proud. She did not attempt to
conceal her dislike for some of the forward
who pressed their attentions upon her, or her
displeasure at an ill-expressed or too open COM
piiment How il was / know not; perchance
his silent admiration was better suited to her
taste; perchance from the natural kindness of
her heart, that led her to see the loneliness of
his, and to compassionate the nervous humor
with which her presence inspired him; for
these or other reasons she soon istinguished
Oscar Lyle, and showed pleasure in conversing
with him. They were young then, very young,
yet ever after Oscar Lyle was her favorite
You might see them any summer evening,
sitting side by side in the red twilight, talking
as fsmiliarly as brother and sister Of the fu-
ture, and Of the past as well. And then there
was Aline 5 father, a strong, fine looking man,
and good old Major Grayson, who used to
drop in" Of an evening for pleasant converse.
Those were sacred hours for those two young
hearts; yet, alas the past never comes back
again, save in memOry-then only to pain us
with sad regrets or dark hours for some un-
kindly-spOken word.
Sitting there, in the old village church, in
the red light that fell through the stained
glass windOws-even then he felt angels must
be like Aline Thomas, who, with meek and rev.
erent face, listened to the words Of the good old
rector he looked not upon the cold world as it
is, but as il seemed.
How strangely our childhood shadows forth
our life 1t was May-day, and Aline was to be
queen As they stole out through the old Wic-
ket, Lyle placed a wreath of flowers upon her
white brow, tied with broad white ribbsn.
How Aline thanked him with her smiles! And
they were merry with their dance and with
tneir song until the young squire came. He
was young lad, no older than Oscar LYLE but
proud and self-willed. And he must kiss the
queen, forsooth, and Aline blushed drew back
until Oscar came to the rescue. There was a
quick movement of the youth arm, and Wal
ter Grayson fell like log at his feet; while
Ahne, weeping and trembling, tore the wreath
from her forehead, and would sing no more
that day
Nearly week after that, Oscar Lyle visited
the parsonage, and they told him Aline WAS
unWell He paused a moment, and his cheek
Paled. Then, pushing the terrified servant
aside, he fastened to the drawing room She
lay half reclining upon a rich velvet couch.
looking wildly lovely in dress of pure white
muslin; yet her face wore deeper shade of PEN
siveness than was its wont, and she turned not
TO meet him when he entered the room.
"Allne. be gasped, springing to her side
She glanced up-he knew all then; the
stained border Of her head dress-it was his
gift-Walter Grayson's.
at were no fault Of mine, Oscar, if turn
from thee" she said. "He is my father, and
1t is bis wish he is all the friend have in this
wide world, but you, Oscar. And you will be
my friend, my brother, in this dark hour You
will forgive me, Oscar ?" and she laid her hand
upon bis arm, and raised those large, pleading
blue eyes to his. "You will forgive me, Os.
car p"
May God forgive thee, Aline-I never can "
de turned away, and Aline Thomas was alone.
Inc rector met him the hall
Ahne told you !'' he said inquiringly; ''yet
blame ner not, for it is better thus. You are
poor now, Oscar" and bitter smile v,ss,baS
his lips as he turned away.
Il am poor, now, Mr.. Thomas; vet. Won shall
feel proud TO call me friend 81 oSSs -
turned away as he spoke, and wbsn y. I.s, H. II
parsonage, there was another rrs.n ,,s nen. '9e
his memory, and another loved form ga ~
buried in lone spot in his hear s,;e Ten
Thomas was to be forgotten name in f,1,nnn anlne
1t was wild night, just such a night a, III.
II was the night before the trial Yes NJ
Thomas had been charged with a Grim. -,
the laws Of his country deemed unpardonabls
A dispute had arisen between him and his
son-in-lsw; Walter fell on the floor a corns.
The villagers pitied the old man; and eyerv.
shing that could be done was cheerfulIy nsr
formed. The services. Of the most renowned
advocate had been procured; and many honed
that, on the morrow, Mr.. Thomas might throw
OF the chains Of the convict; yet thew dared
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