The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1864-08-05

Some triae Of yours ring, belisve-she will
return to you; and then you will part, Rose.
She left her seat as he turned towards her,
and, crossing the room, calmly and sadly laid
the little bethrothal ring on my hand.
Goodbye" she said. "I must obey papa.
It Is oil over between US. Goodbye, William"
But I could not be 80 calm. caught her
hand, and turned towards the stern old man
with his iron face
"Do you remember your own YOUTH tcried
"Do you know what you are doingf" "
"My duty, hope," he answered. II shall
endeavor to secure the best interest OF my
daughter. You will cease to urge the point
when you hear that she Is to marry the Rev
Benjamin Bitterworth In month from next
Sunday
"Marry him y cried. Rose. have you con-
sented to this, Are you false to mel Have
you
He checked mo with solemn wave Of his
hand.
ter's head with folly" he said. "but you have
not succeeded. She knows now that this roman
tic talk about truth, and falsehood, and love.
and 30 forth, Is not At for real life-not modest
or maidenly. She has chosen for her protector
one of more mature judgment, and am very
glad Of itr .
"Rose, ,"I cried, els this true! Have you, OF
your own free will, chosen him"
"My father has commanded me-" was the
answer, 'and must obey"
turned from her and fed from tho room and
the house, mad and blind with grief and indig-
nation.
"She Is not what thought her." I said.
"she has been won by gold. My poverty has
lost her to me-"
Yet I loved her still. and the world seemed
dark and desolate. hated the broad sunlight,
and the calm twilight, and the hour when the
moon. broad and yellow, arose behind the pur-
pie hills. had wild thoughts Of wandering
away and hiding myself from the eye of NOR
tai man, and was thankful that excitement
made me really 80 III that, on the Sunday OF
the wedding had ample excuse for deserting
my pulpit, aud, having procured substitute,
spending the day in my own room. This, Mt
least, was my intention, bat, as the hours crept
on, an influence which found It impossible for
me to resist urged me to leave the house, and
20 across the fields, and through the village to
the church where Rose was to be married, and
witness the ceremony. think was quite TO-
yerish-almost delrious. Surely wise juds-
ment would have led me to any other spot In
the universe. But went.
II was winter day. and the snow lay on the
country path trod. It whitened the roofs and
olung to the tall spire, from which the bell rang
clear and sharp upon the frosty mir. listened
to 1t.
"Surely," said, "some awkward hand Is
Mt the rope. II Is more like the peal tolled for
the dead than that ruug for merry wedding"
But this might have been my fancy, for CIV.
erythlng looked dark to me that day. knew
this was so, for as sat in sheltered part Of
the gallery, looking down, those who came In
seemed to wear sad countcnances and to ex-
change mournful whispers. yet still the thought
that II was moro like q funeral than wedding
would creep into my mind a funeral OF the
brightest hopes-of every mournful dream
which I have cherished"
Then there was whisper-a stir. The bride
was coming. should see her again. Could |
bear lit strained my eyes. How slowly they
came-how gravely heads were bent and they
were dressed in black, every one Of them.
Was going mad saw old Deacon Olmstead.
I saw BENJAMIN Bitterworth. And what was
this! Oh! merciful Heaven! the bride was com.
ing, not In bridal wreath and veil. blushing
and beautiful, but cold and white as marble, ly-
ing beneath that sable pail, motionless, sight
less aud deaf to words Of earthly love forever
more. Rose Olmstead was dead.
They who lifted me from the floor where
had fallen told me that she had died the night
before that she had been failing for the last
few days, aud that on that night she had risen
and knelt down to pray, II was believed, for
they found her kneeling, with her face upon
her hands, quite dead. 'IIer heart Is broken
the doctors said, and l believed them.
Iwas very III after this-so III that they
thought must die. But Death chose those
who were happier and left me u; and ldwell now
| In the same old place, where can sit beside my
darlings grave In the twilight Of the Sabbath
eyc-an old man weary with the weight OF years.
Yet shall bc young again some time-young
and happy in heaven with my lost little one
"Please, miss, DIR. Dove says he's made q
mistake. This here's the sermon on predesti-
nation, and that's sunthin' else"
The minister's little handmade uttered these
words rs she pounccd upon me m the door In
her blue sun.bonnst 80 rolled up the manu-
script and gave It back. aud took tho sermon In
Its place.
APRrrrY LxoExp.-Among the legendary
paintings recently discovered In the ancient Ba-
silica Of st. Clement, In Rome. Is ono illustrat-
| ing the poetic legend Of the martyrdom OF Pope
st. Clement, on the coast Of Chsrson, or the
Crimea. Amer working rs slave, with other
Christian victims, In the stone quarries, he was