Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1866-03-16
Vol XI.----No. 33.

me. Within, around, beyond, oil is
dark, hopeless. solitary. Life stretches
itself YEARLY before me. blind and DESC
late as | am! Mother, mother. we'll
might your sweet spirit shrink when you
contemplated this for your miserable SON.
How strange those last words. l thought
OF them to-day. while made her wreath
OF roses, and when her sisters told me
OF the numbers who flock around her. -
Every flower brought its warning and its
sting,
:" Edward, have not made haste /? I
wished to keep you company for little
while before We set out You must be
SO sad. Your playing told me you were
sad, Edward !"
She was standing by him in all tho
pride of her youth and loveliness her
white dress falling in cloudlike drapery
around her graceful form, her sunny
hair sweeping her shoulders. and the
wreath surrounding brow on which in
noceDce and truth were impressed by Ma
lures hand.
The sense Of her beauty, of an ex-
quisite harmony about her, was clearly
perceptible to the blind man; he rever-
emily touched the flowing robe, and placed
his hand upon the fowery wreath.
"Will you think Of me, dearest, to-
night? You will carry with you some
thing to remind you Of me. When you
are courted, worshipped. envied, and
hear on every side praises of your beau
ty, give passing thought to Edward.
who lent his little help to its adorn-
ment."
Edward, how can you speak 80 mock
ingly You know that in saying this
you render me most miserable"
j" Miserable With roses blooming
on your brow, and hope exulting in your
heart; when life smiles SO brightly ON
you, and guardian angels seem to hover
round your path -
He spoke in manner that was unu-
sual to him: she leaned thoughtfully
against the piano, and, as if unconscious
of what she was doing, disengaged the
garland from her hair.
"These poor flowers have no bloom.
and this bright life of mine, as you think
it, has no enjoyment when ] think Of
you. sad, alone, unhappy, returning to
your desolate home, Edward"
Dearest" he returned, inexpressi-
bly, moved, do not grievo for me. Re-
member, my mother left her blessing
there !"
"Was it only for you, Edward 2"
There is moments silence he COW
ers his face with his hands, his lofty self
denying spirit wrestles with himself;
when, gently the wreath is laid upon his
knee, her arm is passed around bis neck,
her head with its glory Of golden locks,
is bowed upon his breast.
"Oh, Edward, take the wreath, and
with it take myself, if | deserve i'll
Tell mo that you are not angry, that
you do not despise me for this---I have
been SO unhappy. have SO long wished
to speak to you"
" Mary, Mary, forbear! You try me
beyond my strength, beloved of my soul.
light Of my sightless eyes, dearer to me
than language can express. you must nos
thus throw yourself away"
He would disengage the arm that is
clinging to his neck, but she nestles
closer still.
"Mary!" he cries wildly. "rcmem-
Der Blind, blind! !"
"Not blind near me; not blind for
me. Here, Edward, my resting place
is found; nothing but death shall sepa-
rate me from you. l am yours, your
friend, your CONSIDER your wife. Oh.
tell me you are glad"
Glad His previous resolutions. his
determination to own nothing to her pity
ing love, oil faded in the unequailed hap
| piness of that hour, nor ever returned to
cloud the life which Mary's devotion
rendered henceforth blessed.
This is no fiction, reader, no exag-
gerated picture; some, who peruse this,
will testify out Of the depths Of their
hearts how, in respect and admiration,
they have watched Mary fulfilling the
promise Of her beautiful sympathy and
love. She has never wavered in the
path she chose to tread !; she has never
cast one lingering look at all she resigned
in giving herseifto him. Joyous, tender,
happy, devoted. she has seemed always
to regard her husband as the source Of
all her happiness; and, when the music
of children's voices has been heard within
their dwelling, not even her motherly
love for those dear faces, whose spark
ling eyes could meet and return her gaze.
has ever been known to defraud their ia
Their Of a thought. or a smile, or the
lightest portion Of her accustomed care.
No, dear Mary! Years have passed
since she laid her wreath on his knee;
the roses, SO carefully preserved, have
long withered but the truth aud love
which accompanied the gift, are fresh
and bright as then. They iikened her,
as her proud husband says. almost even
while on earth, to those angels among
whom, in heaven, be shall see her-sEs
her, at last-Bo longer blind