The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1861-06-18

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lher aud mother. tor its naaays prob
able Mr. Clerroo viii stay here Away
and when he goes back TO enc ei,y, think
what a drcary lifc You'd have betwi1t bis
two proud sisters, on tho one hap3.--io
hc SUR. there's 30 reason Why they should
bo their eran'tller was tailor, and their
grandma ives bis apprentice, and be go,
rcli, aud gave an bis children learning
ard Mr.. Felxs fallcr he was I lawyer,
and be col rich by speculation, aod so
thc tvo girls always had on their high
hcelcd boots; bat Mr.. C.crron be always
laughs IL them. and bring up the grand.
palcrnnl shop. as he calls it and pro-
vokcs them terribly know Wei, That's
neither here nor there; but a ! was say
ing, here you'il have them on the one
side, and an tho fno ladies on the other,
aud a great house and servants, and par.
ties 70 see 70, and, lorful heart Miss Ivy
you'd die IN three years; and il you know
when you're well OF, you'll stay at home,
aud marry and settle down near the old
iolks, Believe me, my dear, lis a bad
thing both for the man and the woman,
when she marries above her
Mrs. Simm, said Ivy rising, will
you promise me one thingF
Certainly, child, if | can
Win you promise me never again to
mention this thing 10 me, or allude 70 ii
in the most distant mannerg
Miss Ivy, now, - began Mrs.
Simm, deprecatingly.
Because, interrupted Ivy, speaking
very thick and fast, you cannot imagine
how disagreeable il is 10 me. II makes
me feel ashamed to think Of what you
have said, and that you could have thought
it even. suppose -- indeed, know
that you did it because you thought you
ought; but you may be certain that ] am
in no danger from Mr.. Clerron, nor is
there the slightest probability that his
fortune, or honor, or reputation, or sis
tiers will ever be disturbed by me. am
very much obliged TO you for your good
intentions, and ! wish you good morn
ing
But Miss Ivy was gone, and Mrs.
Simm could only withdraw to her pile of
clothes, and console herself by stitching
and darning with renewed yigor. She
felt rather uneasy about the result Of her
mornings work, though she had really
done il from conscientious sense Of du-
".
'WeIladay, she sighed, at last, she'd
better be little cut up and huhy now,
than to walk into a ditch blindloldcd
and wash my hands Of whatever may
happen after this. I've had my say and
done my part
Alas, Ivy Gcer The Indian summer
day was just as calm and beautilul,-
the far-oa mountains wore their veil of
mist just as aerially, = the brook rppled
over the stones with just as soft a melody;
but what 'discord on the music had
fallen! what darkness ON the glory
A miserable, dull, dead weight was the
heart that throbbed so lightly but an
hour before. Yearly, drearily, she drag
ged herself home. 1t was nearly sunset
when she arrived, and she told her moth
CIR she was tired and had the headache,
which was true, - though, if she had said
hearlache, it would have been trucr. Her
mother Immediately did what ninety-nine
mothers out OF hundred would do in
similar circumstances, - made her swal-
low a cup Of strong tea, and sent her 70
bed Alas, alas, that there are sorrows
which the strongest tea cannot assuago
When the last echo of her mothers
footstep died on the stairs, and Ivy was
alone in the darkness, the tide of bitter
ness and desolation swept unchecked
over her soul, and she wept tears more
passionate and responding than her life
had ever before known, - tears Of shame
and Indignation and grief 1t was true
that the thought which Mrs. Simm had
suggested had never crossed her mind
before; yet il is no less true, that, all-un-
consciously, she had been weaving gold
en- web, whose threads, though too fine
and delicate even for herself TO perceive,
were yet strong enough TO cntangle her
life in their meshes. A secret chamber,
far removed from the noise and din Of
the world, "a chamber whose soft and
rose-tinted light threw its radiance over
her whole future, and within whose quiet
recesses she liked to SIT alone and dream
away the hours, - had been rudely en-
tered, and thrown violently open TO the
light of day, and Ivy saw with dismay
how its pictures bad become ghaslly and
its sacredness was deflcd. With bitter,
though needless and useless self-reproach,
she saw how she had suffered herself to
be facinated. Sorrowfully, she felt that
Mrs. Simm's words were true, and
great gulf lay between her and him
She pictured him moving easily and
gracefully and naturally among the scenes
which to her inexperienced eye were
grand and splendid; and then, with a
sharp pain, she felt how constrained and
awkward aud entirely unfit for such a |
life was she. Then her thoughts revert |
ed to her parents, = their unchangiSg !
love, their happiness depending on her,
their solicitude and watchlulness, and |
she felt as if ingratitude were added TO
L al IL