Smyrna times., 1861-04-18

Jou' Oul lnueeC cannot go. IHVlle youI
friend Tomorrow; shall be happy to meet
him." said Lille, and, gasping for breath, she
sank into a chair.
"Lilie, you are i'll ~ exclaimed Gerald, as
he sprang TO her side.
But Lille was unconscious, and as he gaZed
upon her death.like features he thought her
dying, and summoned assistance. Tenderly,
as fond mother would have lifted her help pless
infant, Gerald lifted his wife, and carried her
to her room. When consciousness returned,
Lille found herself in her own room, and her
husband beside the couch, with tears tremb-
ling upon his manly cheek. The physician
came aud told Gerald that Lille was suffering
from a severe attack of hearted dlsease, and any
sudden emotion might prove fatal All through
the silent watches of that night Gerald watch
ed beside his wife, and when morning dawned,
with her hand clasped in that of her husbgnd,
and while listening to his endearlng words,
suddenly, without moments warning, her
gentle spirit passed from earth.
So Unexpectedly was her death, that Gerald
seemed like one walking in dream, and when
Lille was laid upon her dreamless couch, amid
the peaceful and lovely shades of Mount Au
burn, and he returned to his desoate home,
his mind wandered, while for days he hOVered
between lite and death.
When Gerald had recoverhd, he took
mournful pleasure in looking at whatever had
belonged 10 his wife, and one day, on opening
her writing desk, he found journal contain
lag astory Of her life from early youth; and
with teariul eyes he read page after page,
where she had written her love for him. Near.
ly yesr before her death she had penned
these words:
al do not doubt my husbands love, bu. am
no longer happy. He is never unkind, but
when he sits for hours porng upon some vol
ume of ancient lore, apparently unmindful of
my presence, | envy the printed paper, and
wish he would throw it aside that we might
have an hours cheerful converse. Gerald's
mind is we'll balanced, and in perfect confidence
reposes upon itself, but look to those love
for happiness, and my heart thirsts, falnts and
dies If their sympathy is withheld. Gladly
would Join in his scientific research, or spend
my time in arduous study, that might feel
was living with and for him; but now look
upon myselfas an isolated being. He is writing
4 book; but all that know of it is its title page.
Often am prompted to ask him TO give me his
| confidence (but the words die upon my lips,)
for could sit for hours and hear him converse
upon the subject that engrosses his attention.
| o that could share the noble aspirations of
his mind, that he would speak of the bright
and glowing thoughts that emanale from his
pen; but perhaps | am wrong he is good, and
| should learn to be happy.
A few months later she writes: "Gerald's
book is published, and it is work of superior
merit. As | read 1t, my rapt soul bowed IN
alteration before the sublime thoughts aud WV
id creations Of his fancy and joyously roam
ed through the bright world OF Imagination
| peOpled with gentle, and beautiful and brave
/ beings. With the book in my hand, | went to
I n . el,ol To- ba
beautiful scenes so graphically delIneated, and
congratulated him upon his brilliant success.
For a moment an intense smile lighted up his
expressive features, and, as it faded away, he
said:
g. Lille, yon are not proper Judge; wait
and see if the critics do not devour it,
"And be resumed his reading without ano.
ther word. Not one word to me of bis hopes
and fears; but where will he find one among
his literary friends who can sympaihize with
him would /, TO whom he is dearer than my
own life =
On the last day of her life, Lille, with q
trembling hand. had traced the following:
"My health is failing, and this morning
called upon physician. without the knowledge
: of my husband, us did not wish to give need
less alarm. The Physician confreG my fears
r | have a disease Of the heart which is incura
! Dtei ana may Qie at any UOWeHI' Cduuo
tell Gerald to day, as he wishes me to atten'
! Mrs. Adran's party, but tomorrow will tel
him. II is painful to think of bidding adieu L
4 husband and child whom love so tenderly, bu
! my happy spirit may be permitted to watc
e over them while waiting to welcome them
the bright abode of peace aud love.
h Evening -" have arrayed myself in
r magnificent robe and brilliant jewels, to ac
!. company my husband-but how can join tn
q festive Ihrong, when, ere another week, ma
q be cold in death! Oh Oh, what a mocker
II Inockery will it seem! | cannot go, but wi
Il ask Gerald to excuse me, and Tomorrow WI
give him my reasons"
d AS Gerald Haughton looked upon the pas
r. he saw how thoughtless he had been; that b
d mind had been SO absorbed in his favoFite pa
ia suits that he had no time TO study the peculli
4. traits Of his wife, and he had not understoc
IS her; but now when she was gone, he saw ho
II sensitive che had been. Gerald bowed h
J. head upon his casped hands, and wept as
b had Eever wept before, as he murmured thei
10 words:
N Lille, my beautiful, angelic wife, love
,r you truly, better than my own life, aud belle
d. ed you were happy as the idol Of society; b.
ar now, when too late, see my errer YC
"a had Il true woman's heart, aud home and lo'
r. were your province, but neglected you, le
he you alone, never sympathized with you 10 yo
Innocent pleasures, and now brokeD-heart
ho you have passed away How desolate in n
ho home; Lille, from your angel-ho forgi
"a and bless me; bat can never forgive mysel