Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-06-27

III iuii. lue pun was IN tne nrst lines, dnt
rest was variation on the eternal swee
rondo of lovers, pitched in plaintive minol
key.
As early on the morrow as a lady
might be at liberty to receive visitor, Mr..
Tindal presented himself at Mayfeld, and
Pennie and he had long, open-hearted
talk over their common interests. 1t is not
| often that so dark wrong side to their
loves falls to the lot of mortals. Pennie
much, much happier than he, because she
was ignorant, and had more hopeful tenn
permanent.
s'Think of Millicent and Michael Foster y
said she; and harped on that string of good
augury until she had almost persuaded Mr..
Tindal into her own frame of mind. But
the good effect was transient. Her love
was rest and stay to him, but he was past
exhilarating for longer than an hour. After
thirty the world claims It's share in mans
interests, and love is no more the be-alI and
end-all of existence as at twenty 1t appears.
On the whole, he was sad that day.
On the next he was more melancholy
still. He had received letter from Nor
mandy, and must needs go to Mayfield ear
lyto communicate 1t. He found Pennie
pondering over hers. Her mothor had
warned her last night that If she married Mr..
Tindal, she would be only marrying herself
to misery, and she was intent on feeling and
proving that she had no manner of
dread of being anything but blessed in her
choice. She gave her letter to Mr.. Tindal
in exchange for his. Both were filled with
very sound, vexatious common sense.
Mr.. Tindal smiled sarcastically over the
document offered for his perusal, and when
he had finished 1t, said, "Why are you that
important thing, great heiress, Pennie If
you could divest yourself of your money, l
might take you now, when have sore need
of you-as 1t is, must wait until you have
seen the world, or have 1t all crying out on
me, not only as an assassin, but as robber
of the bank. Mr.. Wynyard thinks it is not
an honorable course have taken--perhaps
I ought to leave you free ?'-this interroga-
lively.
"What If l like my bondage better9 They
think | shall change, but they don't know
mel" Pennie was always more attractive
for touch of enthusiasm, that kindled her
| eyes, and made her breathe short
II cannot lot you go of myself, child.
While you stick to me, will try to rest, and
be thankful. l dare not tempt you to break
| with others for the sake of me but let us
pray, both of us, for short day of proba-
tion. have a positive terror of setting
forth again on my solitary travels. I hate
gto be alone. dread my own vacancy more
than ever. And yet, can stay at Rood
I with you awaya"
/ Pennie endeavoured her utmost to cheer
him; and she did succeed little, though he
heard and felt in every word and tone and
4 look that she knew no more of the horror of
great darkness that had compassed his soli-
tude about, during the last Few weeks, than
baby knows of the cares that may be
grooming In its mothers heart while ii is
babbling and laughing in her face. Pennie
imagined that her sympathy fathomed the
depths of his suferings; but indeed it fell
4 short by many and many a line 1t is not
conceivable, In E.os, si.s shi pnVuiu uu-
derstand the recurrent pangs Of such life
as lay behind him, or such dreary waste
as he saw stretching out long before. Never
theless, her present love was an inter.ude of
sheenland, the remembrance of which might
go with him into the wilderness Other
! men had broken down, and had fled from
the glare of society into the very shadow of
death, to escape from much lighter calami-
ties than had been laid on him but he had
walked long under hisload erect and if he
began now to faint and weary, was it mar
vel, when, after seeing it for moment un-
loosed, it had been bound ON his aching
shoulders faster than ever?
"When the days come to an end, and
lie down at night, feel that I should just
like to stretch myself out and die" he said
to Pennie; and Pennie, with shining eyes,
answered that he must not give way to
thinking so. If he had given way to think
ing SO, perhaps the dying might have been
accomplished ere now.
The next day was Sunday. Both morning
and afternoon the Tindal pew at church was
empty. Pennie felt sorry and not being
apt at hiding her sorrow, she let Mrs. Feath-
erston see that she thought the vicar had
done unwisely and unkindly in allowing it
ito be known that he had taken the vulgar
side against his patron.
"But, my dear J" demonstrated the
clergyman's wife, who, though much given
to mending the erroneous ways of others,
was quite unused to being taken to task
herself
Pennie did not weaken the impression she
had made by mere words Mrs. Featherston
parted from her with inward disturbance,
and doubt of her own perfection, such as
had not often troubled her before. Perhaps
she and the vicar had been hasty. 1t aUss
easy to follow multitude to do evil, as
Pennie said. Perhaps they ought to have
made firmer stand; to have been more
cautious how they dealt with an unhappy
man, whose fate would have urged some to
despair. They had acted the part of the
priest and Levite of old, and had passed by
on the other side, leaving him to bleed to
death of his wounds, unless some chance
Samaritan should come that way. What a
caustic tongue that little, sad-faced girl pos
sessed! She made no scruple of applying
Holy Writ to common life the wears wife
had not thought it of her.
The only visitors to Mayfield that after
noon were Mr.. Lister and Dick The latter
had quite dropped his couslnly freedoms,
and treated Pennie with frank and friend
ly respect. She liked the change, and was
easy and cordial with him. Her uncle shook
hands more warmly than was his wont; and
Immediately said, without any afIectation Of
delicacy-
"Well, niece, I, for one, am not going to
blame you. There's deal to be said about
| what's lately turned up that hasn't been said
yet-not in Z papers anyhow. If I'd ever
had an opinion one way or T. other. which