Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1860-06-16

Earnestly she listened, yet there was no
| answer-no sound, save the rustling Of the old
tree against the window, and the fierce patter-
ing OF the rain against the glass. Still, her
face was pressed hard against the window-pane,
| and the pale features were lit up by a wild,
intense excitement. Yet, she could see nothing
nothing, only that gaunt old sentinel by the
| window, its huge form blackened by approach
ing night; and the long, brick wing looking
dark and shadowy in the deepening gloom.
Fainter and more shadowy became the objects
to her view, and the rain beat more family
| against the window-panes.
| She drew back with a cold shudder, and
| allowed the rich drapery to fall back amid its
place, while she sunk deeper and deeper amid
| the rich pile of cushions and a smile-it was
bright :mile-hittered over that pale face.
| She was in a dream-land. Oscar Lyle again
stood by her side, leaning against the chancel-
rails In the old village church, listening to the
| voice of the good rector; again she wandered
| through tho old wood, vioitod Fairy Knoll, aud
| their old haunts again, and wove those wild
forest flowers into bright wreaths, sitting there
on the old stone bench, in the pale moonlight,
| with the church spire in the distance. She
| dreamed, and the smile Of trusting faith stole
over that pale face like ray of sunlight over
a summer cloud. She thought he was doubling
her constancy, and she lisped a wild, fervent
reply
Oscar, do you doubt me?''
Again she was olasped to that manly breast,
| and wild cry of joy warbled up from her
| throat; and then she started. The bright dream
passed. She started from the couch, and gazed
out into the night; yet, she could discern moth
ing, nothing, only dark shadow, as it now and
then swept past the window. 1t was the old
tree. The rain still beat fercely against the
| window panes, and she could hear a faint
mournful, dismal sound, like the rattling of
hail-it was the rain dripping in the court
| below.
She sprang from the window and turned to a
msrble-topped table. A small lamp of frosted
silver was burning upon it; and near it stood
| a tiny bell OF silver. She grasped it with an
Impatient motion, rung it sharply, and then
sunk back upon the couch, the shadows deep
ening upon her pale face The clear, silvery
chimes sounded coldly through those spacious
chambers, and soon a servant entered the room.
Yet you could not hear the fall of his footsteps
so heavy were those rich carpets, for your feet
| would sink down into them as if in bed of
| cover.
'JOhn, has he come?' and she bent eagerly
forward, one white hand clutching the heavy
folds of the drapery
| "He waits below in the vestibule, ma'am"
| And is it he'" and her form trembled with
| excitement, while her heart beat wildly and
her dark eyes shOne with a half m maddened light.
| "It is the barrister, ma a'am''
"You are sure it is he, john"
81 am, mann"
All how kind-and in such a storm"
moisture gathered in these large, dark eyes,
and she sunk into half unconscious dream.
| "Did you tell him, John?" and she started
from the apathy into which she had fallen.
| Il told him nothing"
1T is well, then; the hour?''
"It is past midnight
$50 late. and have been musing here so
| long, and Of him" She checked herself deep
blue suffusing her cheek. "You may show him
in, John, and she sank back upon the couch,
NAAw h 70 f. Il, -
| jeweled hand.
shadow fell over the carpet, and the noble
form OF the advocate stole into the room. He
rested one arm upon the marble mantel, and
stood gazing upon the beautiful being before
him, bitter smile resting upon his fine fea-
lures. Alice" broke in soft whisper from
| his lips
| Oscar"
She sprang forward, murmuring that dear
name, and would have thrown herself into his
arms, but he waved her back with a proud
! gesture, and stood silent, with that naughty
smile still resting upon his pale features. She
| had sunk back upon the couch, trembling
| like wounded dove, or like a bright flower
blighted by the cold winter wind-an earnest
| pleading prayer beaming from those dark eyes
| Oscar. Oscar spare me, am wretched
am punished Spare me spare me re-
pent. He is dead-he for whom left you
Oh. 1t was solitary fault! Bitterly, oh! how
bitterly atOned forn'
| Aline.''
| "0h, save save me-" she cried, interrupt.
ing him, and stretching out her arms in sup
| plicatiOn. "Let me know that you are INV
friend in this dark hour, and that you forgive
me, Oscar"
| "Aline, am, as ever, thy friend"
| And you will save him-my father"
| "If Gods will permits"
May Heaven bless you.''
"Aline-" and the same cold smile wreathed
his lips-'I was young when L first met you at
the parsonage, and I thought no love like
thine; you were my angel Yet, when /
learned that wrong, my heart was crushed;
| yet, in that dark hour, found a friend-my
mother; and on her lavished all nv Young
affections. When poor, she shared my pow
erty, and cheered me on to brighter DAYS. /
became wealthy and she smiled upon my home,
sharing my wealth.
" Yet, Oscar, forgive me only say that you
forgive me-"
You are forgiven Aline; and may you for
get the blighting Of one young heart"
| Has he gOne!" and Aline pressed her hands
wildly upon her forehead. % have seen him
yet, on. what meeting! and she sank upon
| the floor"
1 There was wild cry, no louder than the
notes Of bird, yet so full of agony Thew
I@id her gently upon the couch, and watched
sy her side that night; for she was ill, very i'll
yet it was heart-sickness.
The trial was over; and Mr. Thomas was
acquitted: The jurors, stern men though they
| were, could not resist the burning eloouence
Of the young advocate; and, without leaving
their seats, they declared the prisoner at the
bar not guilty. Then arose cheer, so loud
| that it shook the building; and then the yard
| in front filed with the crowd, all anxious and
| eager to catch view Of the young barrister.
He soon appeared, with fne-looking woman
Leaning upon his arm, followed by the old man
aad Aline. He greeted them kindly, passing
now and then to grasp the profered hand of
| one more eager than the rest to hear that voice
| again.
He took Aline's hand as they reached the
carriage, and assisted her in-then the aged
rector.
"May Heaven blees you, Oscar"
The large, mournful eyes were fixed with a
wild intensity upon his; and when the carriage
drove of, and she could no longer see him
from the window, she sank down among the
cushions-the light Of that young heart had
i gone forever
They never met again Oscar LYLE became