Evansville daily journal. (Evansville, Ind.) 1863-1866, 1865-06-24


And he answered, "My duty, 1 hope.
| shall endeavor to secure the best inter.
ests Of my daughter You'll cease to
urge the point when you hear that she In
to marry the Rev. Benjamin Bitterworth
week from next Sunday. 1C1
"Marry himl'' cried. "Rose, have
you consented to thisf Are you fAlss
to me2 Have you.--"
He checked me with q solemn wave of
his hand.
"Yon have done your best to gil nv
daughters head with folly" be said,
but you have not succeeded. She has
chosen for her protector one Of mature
Judgment, and am glad of il"
Rose" cried, ''is this true2 Have
you, of your own viii, chosen him2''
MY father has commanded me" was
the answer, land must obey"
turned from her, and fed from the
room aud the house, mad and blind with
grief and indignation,
"She is not what thought her."
said "She has been won by gold. Ny
poverty has lost her to me.
Yet ! loved her still, and the world
seemed dark and dasolate. I had wild
thoughts Of wandering away and hiding
myself from tho eye Of mortal man, and
wss thankful that excitement made me
really so Ill that on the Sunday Of the
wedding had ample excuse for desert.
ing my palpit, aud, having procured
substitute, spending the day in my room.
This at least was my intention, but as
the hours crept on, an influence which
found It impossible to resist, urged me
to leave the house and 20 across the
fields, and through the village to the
church where Rose was 10 be married,
and witness the ceremony. I think /
vas feyerish, almost dsliriouA. Surely,
wise judgment would have led me to
any other spot in the universe. But
went. gN W&# ed1 Gi 4A4@
Itwas winter day and the snow lay
thickly on the country path I trod. Il
whi,ened the roofs and chung to the tall
spire, from which the bell rang clear and
sharp upon the frosty air. listened to
It, hSErely," I said, "aome awkward
hand 10 at the rope Ii 10 more like the
peal tolled for the dead than that run9
for q merry wedding" But this might
have been my fancy, for everything look
ed dark to me that day. ! knew this
was 90, for as ! sat down in sheltered
spot of tie gallery, looking 3awn, those
who came in seemed TO wear sad eoun-
tenances and to exchange mournful
whispers, yet still the thought that it was
more like q funeral than q wedding
would creep across my mind, "And 90
il is" 7 thought, "the funeral of my
brightest hopes - OF every mournful
dream which have cherished"
Then there was . whisper stir
The bride was coming. should see
her again. Could bear III I strained
my eyes. How slowly they come-kow
grsvely heads were bent and they we're
dressed IN black, every one of them.
Was going madf cav old Deacon
Olmstead. I saw Benjamin Bitter
worth. Aud what was thar o, meFci-
full Heaveul the bride was coming nct
in bridal wreath and veil, hlushing and
beautiful, bat cold and white as marble.
lying beneath that sable pail, motion
less, sightlsss, dead TO words Of earthly
love forever more. Rose olmstaad was
dead
They who lifted me from the aoor
where ] had fallen, told me that abe had
died the night heforei that she had bean
failing for the past few days, and that
on that night shs had risen and knelt
down 10 pray, twas believed, for they
found her kneehng With her face upon
her hands, quite dead "Her heart il
broken, and believed them.
& / was very i'll after this-so i'll that
they thought ] must surely die. But
death chose these who were happier, and
death left met and I dwell nov In the |
same old place, WHARF ] can cit beside
ny darhnss grave In tbs twilight If the |