Dallas herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1849-1873, 1868-09-05
HELEN ASHLEY;
or. The Refugees at Home

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From The Land we Lowell
CHAPTER |.
awhile the perfumcd tight
Stole ihro' the mist of alabastcr lamps,
And every air was heavy with the signs
or orange groves, and music from sweet
luIes
And murmurs of low fountains that gush
forth
L the midst of roses"
Bulwer's Lady of Lyons
1t is night The moon is shedding
her soft radiance. over one of the
many fair and luxurious homes to
be found on the sea coast of South
Carolina. Though as late in the
season rs October, the evening is
very warm, for the charming In
dian summer fingered on, as though
10th to leave such fair scenes to the
cold domain of winter. AS yet, the
ice king had sent no herald of his
approach, and the noble mansion,
tho ma icstic oaks, the smooth green
lawn, and the blue water of the
river, all smiled calmly in the clear
moonlight.
Mrs. Ashley, the mistress of this
peaceful home, had been left a wild
ow at the early age Of twenty one.
At her husbands death, the care of
Il large property and two little chill
dren dcvolvcd upon her. With all
her sweet and gentle manners, Mrs.
Ashley possess d much strong good
sense; which she now showed in
the management of her property
and children. The eldest, our sweet
Helen, proved an easy charge; and
even Charlie, wild and head-strong
as he was, Mrs. Ashley feared little;
for, surely, with so warm and gen.
erous Il heart, he could not go far
astray.
Very fair and brioht was Ashley
Hal, on that soft October night.
The stately mansion was brilliant
'ly lighted, and the many forms,
fitting joyously about, in the par
lors, on the broad piazza, and even
on the lawn, speak it gala night.
And well it may be, for on that day
sweet Helen Ashley has completed
her seventeenth year, and the proud
and happy mother has invited her
friends, for many miles around, to
celebrate the commencement of her
only daughters young ladyhood.
In the luxurious drawing-room,
the centre of a group of matrons,
sits Mrs. Ashley. Reclining in a
large arm chair, the crimson back
of which sets off her stately form to
the greatest advantage, she does the
honors of her elegant home, with
the easy gracefulness of the high
born Southern lady. Her face is
still beautiful, for she has seen scarce
thirty-fivc summers, but her rich
dark hair is almost hidden by the
widows cap, put on for her young
husband fourteen years before, and
worn ever since. She still wears
her weeds, too, and would be great
ly hurt were any one to hint at her
making a change. At the moment
we see her, she is speaking to tall
boy of fifteen, whom she calls, my
son." That is Charlie, with his
large bright blue eyes and glossy
curling hair; so like the handsome
young father he cannot even re-
member, sleeping under the dark
cypress, in the quiet family burial
place, by the river. The boys
cheek is flushed with dancing, for,
although so young, his early wit,
saucy gaiety and beautiful dancing
make him the chosen partner of
many a fair belle several years his
senior.
But where is Helen, the gentle
queen of these gay revels2 Not in
the dancing room, not in the parlor,
not even on the lawn. She has not
been seen for the last half hour, and
more than one comment has been
made on her absence. But Charlie
says, in reply to his partner, pretty
Minnie Claire's exclamation Of
"Wherc can Helen'be," ''Oh, j cup
pose she is somewhere with Allan
st. John. / see he has disappeared,
too"
Now, Charlie, do you know that
is a match cannot understaDd7 L
wonder Helen faneies him. he seems
so cold and proud, while she is 50
merry and warm hearted. =
-Dat Allan is not cold, returned
Charlie eagerly; ''and as for berg