Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1863-06-22
THE FAITHLEss DAUGHTER.

anu the carpet OF 6arLn Was spread over the QelQS
sprinkled with flowers of every hue, a ~dark-eyed
maiden sat in the recess of a deep bay window her
attitude vas very graceful, as she leaned her head
upon her fair white hand, while a black curl or two,
falling upon it, contrasted sweetly with its whiteness;
nothing could compare with the glossy ~softness of
those II esses or the blackness of their hue, as they
partially concealed her face and bosom, like a veil,
having escaped in their wantonness from a comb
which kept them in their place. She appeared to be
gazing upon the azure sky, as one BY one the stars
came out in their glorious light; but her thoughts
were not there. Just then the silence was disturbed
by the sound of an invalid's voice from the adjoining
room.
pauline, my daughter ~
The maiden arose, and going to the bedside, the
mother babe her be seated, and in deep converse was
two hours passed away.
Mrs. Peterson had been widow for many years,
end an invalid. Pauline was her only child, conse-
quently all her affections were conferred upon her;
yet, with all the petulance habitual to a confirmed in-
valid, she desired that all the daughters care and un-
divided attention should be bestowed upon her; she
was the owner of a large estate, which, however, vas
involved in difficulty; and her main desire was to rid
the Inheritance Of the incumbrance by the marriage
of her daughter with her cousins son, to whom the
estate was mortgaged but the marriage was not to.
take place until after her death; should Pauline make
an arrangement contrary to the will of her mother
she, on this evening, informed her that she would in
cur the penalty of being penniless and homeless.
When we take into consideration that the sick
mother was feeble, %fretful, weak, i~rreligious and mar
row-minded, we will not wonder at this unfeeling de-
mand. Pauline had great reverence for the command,
Honor thy father and thy mother y so she promis-
ed to do all her parent required, even though her life
time should be embittered by thus doing; yet she
was bound by the most sacred ties of friendship and
love to one whom the mother had never seen doubt.
less a report of her daughters intimacy was the rea-
son of the conversation on that night.
Having adjusted the pillows and read awhile to the
invalid, Pauline kissed her and babe her good
night !" it was the last goodnight, but neither knew
it.
Il X
At eleven O'Clock, that same night, notes had been
exchanged. All was quiet at the mansion, when a
slight female figure issued forth ; she was nearly en-
velopsd in a gray mantle. AS the cool night air fell
upon the excited brow of the girl, she ceased her
steps, and, turning, pushed back the long black curls,
with both HANDS pressed to her temples as If to still
their t%hrobbing, and took a long look up the dimly-
lighted rsom of her mother. She seemed to hesitate
in the sep she was about to take; her hrmness was
tairering, WheA J1ree toucbes uporf ) GUITAR, not &esy-
far distant, minded her of the future; she comman-
ded her conscience to be still, and it ceased to reproach
her.
She ~quickened her pace, and soon reached a small
summer house near the bottom of the garden; one
moment more, and a manly ann supported her al!
trembling as overall was decided she would give
up all-become his wife-his fortune should suffice
for both; they would find a home in the far West,
leaving forever the home of her childhood the home,
where, two hours before, she had made a VOW to her
mother, just upon the brink of eternity.
one SLCppeu lIlO lhS NIA AuSC tiho1 AIohhy loA
had provided, and which was in waiting at a short
distance. Speedily it rolled away and, just as the
sun was rising, they breathed the vows at the altar
of a village church which made them man and wife.
Two years had elapsed since that hurried bridal &C.
Cured in thdrillage of F, and those two years
had borne with them q myriad of strange circum-
stances, Just as strange as that daughters broken
promise. The autumn leaves were falling, and the
beauties of Indian summer were fast approaching,
when a lady, with one child and servant, arrived in
the city of B. They ordered a carriage and
drove twelve miles out of the city, where they took
rooms at a hotel; the lady was dressed in widows
habiliments, and when the heavy veil was occasional
ly removed, her flce, though very youthful, showed
evidences of deep suffering.
1t was evening when they arrived at the destined
place; but the lady, whom | recognized as Pauline
Ostrander, babe the driver "wait y after going to
her apartments, and issuing some orders, she descen
ded to the carriage alone, and was driven to the home
. of her childhood; but it was a home-not hers now
The church bell had toled the funeral knell for the
invalid mother, as well as for the husband of hel
choice the property had all passed into the hands O.
the unrelenting cousin, who did not choose to know
the motherless and the widow.
Late as was the hour, Pauline visited the vaul
where lay the remains of the mother she had forsool
for another, for an idol; she had forsaken her dyin.
mother for a desire of her own eyes and a device o
her own heart and the device of her heart and tn
idol of her eyes had been taken from her. The pun
ishment for the sin of disobeying a parent had fallen