The mountain Democrat., 1865-11-11
The BrOkeh Vow.

ken by the strife of human passions; ye
how painfully did the quiet Of that eve
ming scene contrast with the passionat,
grief of a young heart mourning over it
first sorrow. i
Ellen Sinclair was . newly weddec
bride. She was but seventeen; the young
est dSughter Of her fathers house, ant
the spoiled pet of the whole family, he
life had passed as one long day Of sun
shine and flowers.
She had been WOOed by one she hac
known from childhood, and with the con
sent Of their mutual friends, they wer,
united.
The day after the marriage the brida
pair left her fathers house for the resi-
dence Of Mr.. Sinclair, in one of the inte
FiOr counties Of Virginia. A few happy
weeks passed, when Sinclair proposed t
his bride to visit q gorge in one of tn,
neighboring mountains, from which tn,
rising sun frequently presents the singular
aspect Of the looming Of the mountains
the same phenomenon which is witnessed
in the straits Of Messina, and known by
the more poetic name of Fata Morgana, Of
the castles of the fairy Morgana. Eller
vas delighted with the proposed excur
sion, and searched every book in the houst
which afforded any information on tht
subject.
Ibis excursion, that promised so much
pleasure, ended in despair and death. =
They reached the desired spot in safety
The morning was favorable to their wishes
the ascending vapOrs caught the rays o.
the rising sun formed themselves into thu
most gorgeous and fantastic scenes. Ellen
was SO much absorbed in this wonderful
and magnificent spectacle, that she forgot
the caution that Sinclair had given her al
the moment Of mounting her spirited
steed.
BE turned from her side an instant IA
speak to the servant who followed; the
movement startled her horse; the rein was
lying loose on his neck; and feeling him.
self free fro guiding band, be dashed
off at full speed.
Sinclair and the servant followed, but
were unable to overtake her. Fortunately
she met gentleman who succeeded in
stopping her perilous career. Sinclair
checked his horse too suddenly, that he
might express his thanks to her preServer.
The animal threw him with great violence
He was conveyed home in q senseless
state, and surgical asSistanc hastily sum
moned, but the force of the fall had in
nicted some internal injury which batt1et
the skill of the physician.
1t was teside his bed, in that calm twi
light, that the young wife knelt with
scarce hue of life upon her features.
oh, Ellen, my beloved, calm yourself
this sorrow unmans me, muImured the
dying man, passing his hands caressingly
over the heSd which was bowed upon his
pillow.
A deep suffocated sob was the only re.
ply to bis words.
1t is hard to die, he continued, when
| was looking forward to years Of much
tranquil happiness with you, my sweet
Ellen; but 1t is the will Of Heaven, my
best beloved. and we must submit
Oh, Henry, my own Henry, you must
60 down TO the cold, cold grave, where
can see you 10 more--never more hear
the tones of your dear voice. Oh, it will
break my heart, was the almost inarticu.
late reply.
~ My poor Ellen, this is hard trial for
you, but you are too young to grieve al
ways. The thought is torture " me, but
even you may love again-may we'd an.
other! and his voice Was nearly stitled
with painful emotions
Never, never! Oh, Henry, how can
you harrow my sou! at this awful moment
with such suppositionr Wed another!
Give the wreck of my buried affections to
another! Oh, no, no, uo!--the thought
would kill me-
Il doubt not you think so now, love !;
but Nme works strange changes in this
" orld Of ours. We know not what we
may do. wish to exact no promise from
you. The thought is bitterly painful to
me, but should your present view change,
do not wish that the reproach OF bro.
ken vow should ever mar your peace Of
mind
'lIenry, hear me!' said Ellen, in sol.
emn tone. Should ever SO far forget INV
faith to your ashes as to lend my ear to
the language of love, 20 the voice OF atfec.
ton for another, may your form on INV
bridal evening come to Ine aud repr0ach
me for my laithleSsneSS.
A bright smile passed over the face Of
the dying man. He murlnured-
Repeat those words again, my Ellen
they take from death its sting-in Heaven
you will be all INV own. Forgive my self
ishnesS, dearest; but | have so loved you,
| cannot think another shall win
His voice ceased to articulate and again
the deep tones of the young mourner
thrilled the air, with the repetition OF those
awful words.
IS they passed her lips, she felt the
hand that clasped hers relax its graSp-a
faint Huttering consciousness secmed to
hover q moment on his features. and in
another instant they wore the calm and
passionlesS repose OF death.
Ellen Sinclair buried herself in the sc
cluslon of her own abode. A calm and
gentle melancholy succeeded the first vio'
lrnce of her grief, but she betrayed no
desire to mingle with the world. Clad in
the deepest mourning, she was seen no.
where but ct church; and those who look.
ed OF her, felt deep sympathy for one 80
young and so bitterly bereaved. Vainly
had her own parents sought to draw her
from her solitude. Two years had passed
away and after many fruitless efforts they
at length succeeded in obtaining prom
ise Of visit from her at the annual re-
union Of their family at Christmas, for
that season is still held as a festival in
many parts Of Virginia.
Ellen was once more beneath the roof
of her father, and many and painful were
the emotions which struggled in her bC-
som when she looked around and remem'
bered that the last time she stood beside
her native hearth, she was gay and hap