The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1866-08-12

and motherless, without brother or
sister, at the age Of fifteen, was forced
to earn the bread she eat-and nobly
has che done it. If you know her,
Charley, you know one of the noblest
women that ever lived But-what's
the matter? Why, bless me, you look
as pale rs ghost"
struggled hard with myself, and
told Jack that I had swallowed lot
Of cigar smoke. rose, and opening
one Of the easements, stepped out on
the balcony; where the fresh air re-
stored me.
At a late hour Jack departed. for
the hotel, and when I had retired to
my chamber, paced to and fro until
long after midnight. I could no
longer misunderstood the motive
which bad actuated Mary in rejecting
my hand. She knew that I was in
the habit of using wine, and on that
evening when we met, she must have
discovered that I had drank enough
to bring false flush to my check.
ooh, my God!' I calculated, as I
sank into chair, II wonder not that
she refused to place her future life in
my keeping. She had suffered
enough from the accursed cup. The
night Of sorrow and desolation has
been long upon her. She would be
worse than mad to take husband,
whose opening path in life Led to-
wards the pit into which the loved
ones of other days had fallen
''But," asked myself, "why did
she not tell me the whole truth?'
I found no difficulty in answering
the question. She had shrunk from
wounding my feelings. Iknew how
sensitive she was, and knew she was
afraid OF offending mo. Peyhaps she
thought me proud and head-strong
enough to resent such liberty on her
part, and perhaps she imagined I
might look upon her as the offering
of her hand in consideration of re-
nouncing the wine cup, and that /
might spurn her offer
On Friday, Jack Stanton left me,
and, on Saturday evening, called at
Mary's boarding house. Mary her
self answered my summons. She
started when she saw me, and saw
her right hand move quickly towards
her heart.
MARY" I said, speaking calmly,
for I had mighty strength of will to
support me, 81 have not come to dis
tress you; I have come as friend,
and humbly ask that you will give
me an audience for a few moments. :"
She went into the parlor, and / fol-
lowed her, closing the door behind
me; and when we were alone, she set
the lamp on the table and motioned
me to seat.
''No," said T, II will not sit down
yet. Give me your hand, Mary"
Mechanically, she put forth her
hands, and I took them in my own.
There was q wondering look in her
eyes, and q slight flush came to her
pale cheeks.
Mary" l continued, speaking
slowly and softly, and know that
moisture was gathering i'll my eyes,
''you must answer me one question.
Answer it rs You please, and take my
solemn assurance that l ask it for
your good. Tell me, do you love
me? No, no-do not take your hands
away yet. Answer mo if you can.
Fear not-O fear not; for I had
rather go into endless night than do
You wrong. Tell me, Mary: do Won
f, love me?'
II cannot speak falsely" She
tremblingly whispered; ''for my own
peace, perhaps love you too we'll "
''Listen to me for one moment" I
added, drawing her nearer to me;
''when I have told you that which l
have to tell, You shall be the judge. :"
She did not strive to free her
hands, but looked up eagerly in my
face, and her eye beamed with hope
full light
! "You know Jack Stanton?" + said.
"Ies," she replied.
"He was my best friend when we
were at college, and my friendship
has not grown less. He came to see
me, and told me the trials and suffer
ings of one of the school mates Of
his earlier days. Oh, Mary, l know
well why my hand was refused, and
blame You not. 1t may be that our
paths will be different through life,
but you shall at least know that he
whom you have loved will SO live
that he shall not be unworthy of
kindest remembrance l know that
L lave hitherto wandered into the
path of danger, but henccforth am
free from the dread snare. Under
! the new li0ht that hoc JowDnl ,,,,,,,