The Carolina Spartan. [volume] (Spartanburg, S.C.) 1852-1896, 1866-05-10


own, l could not cheerfully labor as ought
to make his salary suffice for US; therefore
!! ask freedom from my engagement. Three
days later reply came, in the following
words:
"CLARA: My best beloved-you are
free. l have nothing of yours to return,
save bit OF blue ribbon that once tied
your curls. retain that.
LAWRENCE"
1 felt instinctively, that my freedom had
been purchased at the price of mortal an
guish to another, and would gladly have
uudone my work. Shutting myself from
every eye, that day, did not weep, but
suffered none the less that tears were de.
MED me. The evening brought Mr.. Hue.
ton, and with the hearty approval of my
uncle and aunt, was again betrothed.
Lewis urged an early day for the marriage,
but aunt Insisted that four months was the
least possible time in which my outfit could
be prepared. The next three months were
passed in whirl of silk, laces and muslirs,
which wearied me. Mr.. Hueton often re-
marked my silent ways and thoughtful
looks, which he attributed to shyness and
over-exertion. With his grand faith in
me he never imagined my love was half
vanity.
At length, but eight days were to pass
before our marriage. The rose tree was
full of opening buds, and l anticipated
wearing them at my bridal. Two buds
were half opened, and brought the plant
down to show Lewis, when he came in to
spend the evening.
"Do you know, darling" said he, "that
the charming taste with which the roses
were twined in your hair, the first time Of
our meeting, was what attracted me to your
l bent over the tree to hide my glowing
face. He continued:
"But | have not told you--I can remain |
no longer this evening, having promised to |
spend the night with sick friend BY |
the way, he is passionately fond OF flowers
the day, and others will come out"
cut the flowers and he left me- The |
day following, messenger brought a re.
quest from Lawrence Elmore, that would
lend him for one day, my rose tree he
was i'll, had heard of its wondrous beauty.
and knew how had reared it. could |
but send it, with every caution for its safe
ty. Instead OF calling that evening, Mr.. |
Hueton wrote that he was staying with |
dying friend. The thought that his friend |
was my discharged lover did not cross my
mind.
The next morning Mr.. Hueton brought
the rose tree, shorn of every bud and bios
som. He placed it upon the table saying:
"My friend, Lawrence Elmore, cut them
off, and started upon long journey with
them in his hand ~
30, pity me !" | cried, and fell senseless
upon the floor. When consciousness re.
turned, he was holding me against his |
heart; but with such desolate, broken
hearted look in his face, that was fain to |
turn away my eyes.
"Pity you, Clara ~ said he. "Pity me |
l have lost my best loved friend and my |
beloved wife. Lawrence did not willingly |
betray your fault; it was only in the de |
lirium of his dying moments that learned
what caused his illness and death"
Gently placing me upon the sofa, he left |
the house
The wedding invitations had not been !
given out, and were now DELAYED by nv |
sudden illness. From a servant learned |
when Lawrence's funeral would take place. |
and In spite OF remonstrance, attended, |
dressed plainly and wearing heavy veil to
avoid recognition. He was buried in
Greenwood, and, alone in the carriage |
which my uncle sent, l went to the grave.
Mr.. Hueton stood by my side, as the last
solemn words were said, though fancy he |
did not recognize me, until, as we turned |
away, he offered his arm, conducted me to
the carriage, and left me without one word.
May my darling Carrie never know such |
agony OF rcmorse as | suffered that day and |
tor many years, feeling that had murder
ed the man loved, and destroyed the hap.
piness OF one so worthy of respect and af |
lection as Mr.. Hueton. At evening the |
package containing the few notes | had !
written him and my miniature, was handed |
me by servant. | looked in vain for Que !
written word Of his. He was too noble to
add one reproach to those he knew | suf |
fered, yet too truthful to attempt a pallia- |
ton OF my fault. 1t then became necessa-
ry to tell my uncle that there would be no !
marriage, and that the falt of the broken
engagement was mine; yet | could not
bring Its contempt upon me by telling him !
all. have related this IN Won Carrie a.