Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1860-08-02
my faltering lips would never dare tell you,

my own love, I did not dream of this;
bu; ] will myself go to him and demand
the hand your love would give me-the
hard his own kindness led me to expect
you need not Henry, you need not
you cannot imagine his bitterness, his in
fatlation. He has even forbid me Oh pain
of his eternal displeasure, ever to speak
with you again .-.
Impossible What madness is this 2,
sMadness, indeed replied Ellen, fbut a
madness that will admit of no mercy And
she here recounted the different trials to
which she had been subjected. Davie, won.
dering and indignant by turns, heard her
to the end, then firmly said
Il see but one course to pursue in this
matter. will go to him and understand
the reason of this cruel proceeding, and
failing of gaining his consent, I will not
permit him longer to persecute you
'But how p said she iunocently, raising
i1 iles c;es cree to his face He did not answer
save by look, which caused iieeTT to to hide
her face upon his shoulder.
'As my wife, Ellen, he can no longer
control or anuoyyou.'
yes, but that curse, Henry and she
shuddered. ..s
DO you suppose Heaven would answer
such an urholy prayer. Come, dearest,
where is the frmness I boast Of! A union
that he himself encouraged, the blessing
that he gave US, if not by words, at least
by every look and act, to be IL lus madly
and capriciously revoked. Nay, dearest, l
cannot submit to be thus dealt with, and
my Ellen must rise to this emergency and
help me to meet it. Tell me, have I your
heart in this, as, I trust, in all else?'
MY conscience condemns the cruelty
that so persecutes, me-my heart is with
you Henry, but do not act rashiy, patience
may yet conquer for u.s. .. ...
by Heaven, no!' said Davie, more in
dignant than he cared to show. Il will
go to your uncle, and ask for what is so tru,
ly niue. Nay, dearest, to please you,
will even plead the encouragement he him
self gave me, and if he refuses, he but gives
my Ellen more quickly to my love-
She did not answer. .., .-.
Pardon me, if I have pied too boldly
I have not cunning to be strange, and my
tongue is little used to pleading. Speak
dearest, is it too great boon to ask 2
You could not ask too much, Henry
she whispered. -..'. - "
BLESS you, Ellen: I fear I am selfish il
thus urging, but I cannot brook the though
of leaving you to fresh trial.
'You do not propose to act Immediately? /?
sHave you not learnt among my othel
faults, that am very impatient p said Davie
laughing i propose to see your uncle
this morning, and ifhe refuses this wish o.
my heart, you will meet me here to night
and an hours ride will take us to Mr.. Adam:
under whose protection I will leave n'5
uJe,' he whispered, pressing her to his
heart, till happier days enable me to take
her to my own home
Ellen started. so soon, Henry? Tt
night?' and her face grew pale.
so soon, dearest! every minute will be
an hour till weary time speeds night.
could almost hope he would refuse me, thai
might the sooner claim you. My bride
and dearer yet my wife. Nay, Ellen, the
lioy is too sweet to be relinquished; speak
love, say yes, and bless me-
No, Henry, I cannot said she, her pale
cheeks testifying to her emotion. This is
100 sudden, too unadvised-I have no Joy
in it. Do not counsel me to forget in g
moment of passion, hours of tenderness and
love. l dare not, Henry. Give me more
time-Graham will soon be leaving; let me
try what affection and patience can do
He bit his lip impatiently.
Now comes the rock in Elleu's charac
ter. Come here; I will not plead with you
sitting SO cold and motionless. Lay your
hand again on my shoulder; nay, l must
see YOUR eyes. Now listen,' and bending
his lips to her ear, he whispered low and
lovingly with many fond pressure and
tender caress.
Now, Ellen, answer said he, as he drew
her vet closer to him.
The cup is very, very sweet she replied
raising her bowed head, 'but it does moi
satisfy. l shrink from the bitter dregs.'
you are unjust to yourself and to me,
Ellen said Davie, with some sternness
This is simple superstition. You owe nc
duty of one who would force you from the
path of truth. You disappoint me, Ellen,
and he turned in some GOODNESS from her
A tear fell upon the hand that clasped hers
MY own Ellen, do not willingly grieve
you; forgive me if plead too earnestly
but think how miserable l would be to have
you exposed to these trials, not knowing
what new sorrow this madness would make
you undergo. Be generous-listen to me
Still she did not answer. He waited g
moment. Again tear fell.
Forgive me, Ellen, l do wrong to urge
you thus. 1t would be cruel fate that
would link your gentle fotunes to soldiers
rude life And if this war should terminate
otherwise than in freedom, it might prove
not only a sad but terrible one. And ye'
believe me, it was not all selfish love,
would have oaved you from trial -
Hush, Henry, hush; do not speak of any
fate being cruel, with you to share it. Oh
you do not, cannot know the strength oft the
ten ptation, she whispered
Il do not wish to win your heart to this;
he said, against the convictions of you'
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