The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-11-27

certain strange dignity in her glrl-tace
and slender form.
"Mr. Atterly," said Grayling, still with
aggravating moderation and calmness,
chow long is it since your daughter re-
ceived lecter from Harry Ives?"
"Well, it's pretty considerable spell, "
said the old farmer "but letters do take
time to reach us, you know"
eyes, particularly when they are never
sent,'' sneered Grayling.
"Father, don't listen to him." sobbed
Bessie, passionately. eff the whole world
were to tell me Harry Ives was untrue, 1
would not believe Them"
And Bessie tainted quietly away, with
her chestnut braids of hair dropping over
her fathers knee
Poor child! Gould she but have fore
seen the weary months of waiting for the
letter which never came from the far off
Southern hills, the hope deferred which
maketh the heart sick, that were in store
for her, she might have been sorry that she
had not died, then and there, holding fast
to that firm faith in Harry Ives's fidelity
James Grayling, a crafty, patient man,
bided his time. 1t came at last when the
UCuuOI CCu VI UAO ull1.OluCO SuAlVClCu du0
grew brown under the starry, silent frosts
of the bitter December nights, and the
keen wind rushed with thunderous swell
through the lonely pine-forests in these
wild solitudes.
daughter, it's the dearest wish of my
heart" said Farmer Atterly, solemnly, as
he sat with Bessie in the old, silent room.
I'm gettin' we'll on in years; and if l
| could but see you married to some good
and true man before am taken away,
should rest easier in my grave. James
| Grayling has been almost son to me these
months of trial and trouble. He is coming
for his final answer tonight. Let it be
| Yes!"
Bessie shuddered. That year of sick,
wistful grief had changed her into a pale,
fragile girl, with large, frightened eyes,
ever rowing from side to side, as if vainly
seeking something which never came.
"Wait, father" she murmured, eager
ly, as if pleading for sweet life itself:
"wait little longer-only little lon
ger!"
81 haze waited, Bessie. It is year
and over since Henry Ives has sent you
either word or message. lie may be dead!
but James Grayling has been as true as
steel to me all this time. He deserves
you, Bessie; and when you're once mar
ried you'll learn to love him. Shall we say
this day month for your wedding, daugh-
ter?"
That night Bessie laid her cold hand in
James Cravings eager palm, and said
"Yes," dreamily, to whatever he propos-
ed. What had lite left for her? As well
be James Cravings wife as any thing
else, since God willed that she should live
and suffer on, and the dreary path of
years lay spread out before her listless
feet!
The old smOke-stained walls were
wreathed with feathery garlands of cedar
and pine, with the scarlet berries of the
mountain ash glowing here and there;
the great fire roared up the chimney with
festive sound, and all the neighbors were
gathered round Farmer Atterly's hearth
stone, tor Bessie was to be married that
night.
'She don't look as bride ought to,
somehow" whispered Mrs. Deacon Jen-
nings to her companion, Mahala Bird.
"Sle seems to me just like one o. them
white snow-wreaths lynn down in the hol
low yonder."
"May be it's that white Dress" said
Mahala; but she does look like corpse.
Land o'Goshen! what be a-sayin'? 1t
amt good luck to talk about corpses on a
weddin' might"
For the pretty bridemaids had just led
Bessie in, robed in pure sheeny silk, with
snowy geraniums in her hair, and not
vestige of color in her cheek.
"There! don't she look sweet? !" said
Susy Jennings. els it time to go into the
parlor yet?
"Massy, no, child" said Mrs. Jen-
nings; "not for an hour. Why, Jim
Grayling hasn't come yeti"
So Bessie sat down in the midst of the
assembled maids and matrons, and played
with the white flowers in her bouquet,
thinking, who knows what? Perhaps a
lonely grave under the cruel Southern
stars-perhaps the fair face of the woman
who had wiled her lovers heart away.
Somebody spoke to her; she looked up,
and all of a sudden her frightened eyes
traced figure beyond the open door OPP
posite to which she sat-a figure hurriedly
pressing through the crowd.
"Where is she? l ,oiH see Bessie, we'd
ding or no wedding! Who has q better
right than 1?
The next moment the pale, white-robed
bride lay like fair, still statue in Henry
Ives arms.
"Stand of, say!" he cried, fercely.
"Let no one come between me and the
woman I love. have earned her to be
my wife-earned her by long months of
pain and suffering earned her by wounds
upon the battlefield of the country she
loved! Do you say she is to be married
to James Graylingr What has James
Grayling done with the letters I sent to
his care with all the messages intrust-
ed to him? She had better be in her
grave than married to James Crawling.
Mr.. Atterly, you are just and good man
Judge between me and the treacherous
fox fancied was my friend"
Harry, Harry faltered the old
man, 81 never dreamed o. this. Tell us
about it, my boy, for my old head swims. i"
And Harry Ives, still holding Bessie to
his heart, revealed the story of his own
truth and James Grayling's duplicity.
When he had finished the impassioned re-
| citQl Moses Attorlv c1ooro6 tho hroxp