Democrat and sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1853-1866, 1860-02-01

! ly drove out to watch and direct the opera
tions of the laborers.
Twas one day driving leasurly alou when
espied at some distance before me an old
man, bent with age and grouping his tedious
way along the road. Presen tly he sat down
by the road side to rest, and when l came up
L offered him a seat in the buggy
Never mind" said he. 1T is only lit
tie way that have to 60. just to yonder hill
are pleasant like this, to meet my daughter
and accompany her home from sch ool She
is teaching, you know
disregarded his refusal of my offer. and
sprung out of the carriage. extending him my
hand TO assist him to seat, as thosghE
thought it was matter of course that he
would ride
''Well. well, since you wish it, viii 60
with you There are not many that are kind
to the old man now. / am not where L was
six years ago L was rich man then-very
rich-but speculation did the mischief. See
yonder house, just beyond the school. it
was mine, Ali it was happy home, but j:
can never be mine again.
Aud thus he babblci on, for the infrmi-
ties of age, prematurely induced by his mis-
fortunes, had rendered him garrulous. He
was indeed cbanged-for among all had
| seen since my return home, not one had grown
SO old as he. He did not recognize me; and
as 1 drove slowly along very slowiy-for be
said many things that were interesting to me
Il learned more of the circumstances, and
of the sacrifices, concessions, efforts, and fl
ial affection Of his daughter Isabel-the name
| affected me, | Will confess it, more than [ had
previously ascertained.
had often passed the school house. as it
was directly on my way to the farm, but had
never caught sight of the fair teacher As
We now approached. observed the scholars
rushing from the door of the school room,
aud before We drove up, she herself emerged
and stood before US.
''Ah, Isabel, this kind gentleman urged
me to ride in bis carriage, aud / want you to
thank bin 10 my behalf, because you don't
know how it has rested me-"
If l had remained unrecogn lied by the IA
ther, l could not escape the penetrating
glance Oft be daughter. Her quickly chang
ing color indicated at once that she knew, or
at least suspected, who l was. I turned ar
ound my carriage. sprung out, and offered to
assist her in saying:
Permit me, Miss Bayne-your father is
fatigued. and / will drive you to your home,
| shall have ample time TO attend to my other
business afterwards "
She stammered some excuse insisted up
on her riding, and had the satisfaction of see
ing her yield.
For a moment I gave myself up to the hap
py memories of the past. | was again beside
the only being had ever loved. [ felt the
rustic of her dress against my hand, aud not
withstaDdiug my exterior GOODNESS and assum
ed formality, could not suppress the tumult
within.
Isabel was little changed. but changed |
for the better. The hauty belle had become |
the beautiful Madonna. She was pensivs, |
sad. But little was said during the home |
ward drive. except that which was uttered by |
the talkative old gentleman. Isabel said |
nothing What a strange meeting. Had |
been entIre stranger, as Mr.. Hayne supposed |
me, il could scarcely have been Different
She did indeed smile when 1 lifted her from |
the buggy. then lisped, Thank you, | then |
blushed, then paled again. Mr. Hayne cor
daily invited me to revisit their humble cot
tage. and solicited the honor of knowing who |
[ was.
SIS it possible!" he exclaimed, ''this is our
old friend Temples son, and returned rich,
too, :hey say. God grant you may make
good use of your money. But be warned by
an old man, and make no rash ventures =
Here Isabel, daughter, Did you know this
gentleman? This is Harry Temple You
surely have not forgotten him.
II scarcely recognized him." she replied,
somewhat confused, as she returned from the |
cottage, to lead her invalid father into the |
house. Il hope we shall have the pleasure |
of seeing you here again Mr.. Temple"
1t was the same sweet voice of old, tenn
pered by charity, humility, and af1iiction; and
softened by the influence of religion and flial
affection.
I pondered well the circumstances. Should
| yield to the yearnings of my heart? Should
L again offer my hand, perhaps to be repulsed?
Perhaps she would not, second time, reject |
my offer. 1 vas now rich, and she poor. 1t |
would be no sacrifice of principle on my part
to offer to wed the poor school teacher, al
though bad determined never To renew my
suit with the wealthy heiress. 1t might have
been destiny that decided her TO reject my
offer; for had she not done SO, | never would
have left home and friends to wander in for
eign chimes in pursuit of wealth | might at
this very day have been grovelling in abject
would have been utterly unable to
restore the old man and his daugh ghter to their
old homestead as now fondly hoped TO do.
Yes. indeed, pride was Conquered, a1d the
which never had been quite extin-
gulsneu winih ine, out agaiust WHICH uau
battled with all my might for eight years. at
length triamphed
visited their cottage repeatedly, and as
sured myself that the ahange in Isabel.s char
acter. disposition and manner, was deep aud
radical She no longer had high aspirations
her only thought was the comfort of her do
ting father
At length offered my hand again, and |
this time l had no scruples about urging my |
suit. sirce matters occupied quite q different |
position from that OF former years
I Gamma, tau nor, hour hnnnu uas xhen L |