Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1867-03-29
VOL. XIII NO 10.

y W
yon to write me long, kind, loving letter.
such as no other woman would or could
write. but just what your generous nature
will of itself prompt. Write me, darling.
from your heart, aud if YOU do not approve
OF the step | am committed to. your better
judgment shall be my thus far.' This I
promise YOU sacredIy. and that means
promise to be kept come what will If,
/ however, he had her sanction he hoped sEs
would make haste to follow in his footsteps,
than he had found. And with this hope
he was always and always her affectionate
friend aud devoted admirer.'
Was ever kindness crueIcr than this,
Matilda read the letter calmly from frs,
for word, and then she folded it. and went
| with it straight to her mother, and WHEN
she had put it in her hand she laid her head
on her bosom, and said Read it. dear
mother, hut let lis say no word about it
better chill to you than have ever been
try to be worthicr of the love that I
know is truc.'
AS ifyou had not always been worthy
AS ifyou had not always been too good !
ciied the mother bursting into food Of
angry tears and then she said. God will
never let him rest, and hope,
'Oh, mother, m0ther!' inicrpOscd Matil-
da, placing one hand over the mouth that
was uttering the revengful hope, and then
she took the letter and laid it in the fire,
and not another word was said about Ma
than between them, then, or ever.
A long time after the gray ashes were
blown to the winds they sat together in ST.
lencc, the check of tie mother resting Oh
the daughters head, and many and many
night thereafter they sat the same way,
each understanding the Others Thoughts.
but speaking no word that represented tho
thoughts.
And the heart Of the girl did not break
hearts do not break so easily as they are
said to do in storics-it suffered and ached
and throbbed for many weary. day and
month, and then it settled into dreanless
aud hopeless quiet, and the face wore its
old snilc-a little saddcr but not less
swect--and she took up the cares and du-
ties of life with more steadfast and encr-
gctic will. Matilda did not sing the old
song at her spinning, but she sung hymns
instead went much to church, and mused
upon the green fields beyond tie swellin,
food, and tried to lay up her treasures
there, not altogether without success.
though not in perfect tranquility.
But though they We're so silent in the
houseold ofMr Hastings the neighborhood
was not silent, and, strange to say, there
was little sympathy expressed for Matilda.
She was III love with Nathan Armstrong
the gossips said, 'aud he has gone off and
married his rich c,rs;n, and left her to
dance in the pig trough and they lau. he'd
as they said it, even III though good thing
had betalen themselves. Then they won
dered if she would not be ashamed to
show her head abroad, and few, from
sheer curiosity, made excuses to call ut
her mothers house, simply to see for them
selves how she bore hc-self in her deser-
ton. She was calm, to all seeming. and
kindly, and quiet as ever, and they one
and all Went vexed away that they could
not get something of a startling sort t,
tell about the town.
But to go back a little. The letter was
never answered. and one day when the ru-
NOR was flying everywhere that a beautiful
daughtcr-in law was shortly to he brought
home to Mrs. Armstrong, Nathan suddenly
presented himself at the door of his for
saken little sweet heart. He looked un-
happy, restless, flushed with excitment, as
if he were neither uas ter of himself nor Of
anything.
Would Matilda grant him one more last
walk in the garden! That was what hc
was come to ask. lie had no right. ha
made no pretcnse of right. but would she
grant him, of her sweet generosity, this
much! He was going away-gOing out of
the country, and mi sht never have anoth-
rr favor to ask. He whispered this as she
bent over her sewing work--a wed ling cap
Tor his mothar-bcneath the west window
through which the sunset lights were
shining darkly red. for it was autumn
aud the close of the day.
She turned the cap of fine yellow lace
on her hand for moment, and then
put it down and went with him to the
garden. He put one arm ahDnt her
when they tnrned down the narrow ath,
bat she said, No Nathan. without smil-
ing or hlush.ng, and softly pushed the arm
away. Then he asked her why she had
not written to hm-perhaps that he did
not know what else to say.
Because, Nathan, | hail nothing to
say t. you. nor have lnow,' she added. qui-
ety. and without anger.
oh. Matilda, that is cruel, very cruel
| if You only knew
| Il do know she answered; you were
good enough to tell ME, you rclncn,bcr,'
but you doa't begin to know how nj uc!i
I.suiler!'
i am sure am very sorry.'
'Oh. Matilda. don't kill me with such
colduess-l had hoped you would help me
it was madness | know, bnt hoped
You yourself made it impossible for me
to help you; and besides. what help cal,
you nccd' You have money, beauty.
every thikg you desire ?
Il haven't what dcsirc-it is Yourself
desire t" hold and to keep, from this
day forward till death d" us part !!
And all against her will he put lis ARM
about her and drew her to the thyme bank
BY the bee hives, and SO held her as le
poured out his heart now stirred to the
very bottom. He told her how his mother
had vexcd him with her constant importu
mites. aud how she herself apart, just
when he required her Tenderness the nj )st;
how ambi ion had blinded, and at las
! beauty and arttulness bewildereh him a, 4
: how by one means and another. he had
heen pushed and goaded to the very edge
of the prccipce; ; but the last fatal step
was not taken would Matilda, his own
! little sweetheart. an the tiuc sweetheart
| he had ever had, or ever cUull have, help
him to rccede'
No she would not help him /; he was not
I.n l. 4