The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1868-09-12

nauVb Ecueroot3 OF DIS ueart W9e contlnu-
ally showing itself, and although mere ac-
quAintsrcss OF stranger: might be repelled
by his demeanor, no man could be more
esteemed ,r beloved by his friends Now q
new chord was touched In his heart. This
sweet, simplicity of Helen Eyre, combined, a.
Il was, with perfect elegance and graceful.
ness, took his eye at the first gIance-and
although it could not be said 20 have gained,
yet Il certainly at once touched, his aztec
tions. As the innocence Of her heart. and
the intelligence 0f her mind, indicated them
selves uncoasciously In every artless, vet
well.chosen word, love and admiration Of 4
better kind stole into his breast and her
exceeding lovsiiness and beauty gave the
warmth Of passion to IN attachment which
was Of Tanid growth, ane after few inter-
views was blended vitality with his very
hearts blood The tone OF her voice nov
thrilled throsEh every nbre Of bis frame.
her Image, during sbsence, haunted him,
eithsr sad or smiling, alike irresistible aud
subduing-and seeing no real obstacle In the
way OF his happiness, he thought IN his soli-
tarY rambles through the woods and over
the bills, (for now be who had hitherto lived
constantly In the stir Of life, loved TO be
alone,) that Providence bad kindly sent this
angelic being to bless him as long a. be
bved on earth. He thought Of her-now IN
her virgin beauiy-now as has bride--now As
his wife-D0w as the mother of his chill
dfen--and his heart was sick, his very soul
was faint in the fever Of tumultuous passion,
till calmed again by solemn thoughts Of
eternal union between himself and Helen
here and in heaven.
The love which Helen Eyre felt towards
him was of very different kind. Ii was
utterly hopeless, therefore it was utterly in
dulged. She knew that she could never be
hIs wife-that be would never slcop to
marry her-that Constance even would not
like 10 see her brother forming connexion
below his own rank-and that his mother
would rather see her poisoned or crowned,
at least dead and buried, than the wife Of
her Henry. All these convictions gav 9 her
little or no distress, for they were not
brought upon her Unexpectedly, to damp
heart that had been warmed by other
thougnts they formed the habitual knowl-
edge Of that humble heart, and they and
/ thoughts like tLem had been instilled into
her bosom by her good and wise guardian
who knew that to save her from melancholy
it was necessary to show her the truth Of
life, and TO remove all delusions. Helen
Eyre, therefore, allowed her soul 10 rejoice
within her, in the agitation Of q new and
heavenly happiness, whenever Henry Beau
mont appeared with his smiling countenance,
that frightened up the room, or the field, OF
the garden, with an effulgence Of bliss She
knew her own innocence-her own fesigna-
tion-and that if Mrs Montgomery, who
was now very old, were to die, most soli-
tary would be her own lot. Therefore, she
spoke, smiled, and We ed with Henry B.au-
mont. as with the only being on earth, HON,
IN the sacred silence o. her soul, she would,
till her dying hour, perfectly love. He
could not penetrate into her thoughts; be
could not look, with those bold, bright, beau
siiul eyes, into the covert of her iuner spirit,
where they oil lay couched night and day
for ever; be would place his love on some
| o1e of whom he Dad no cause to be ashamed,
and who would be welcomed to the haii n
his fathers; he would then only bestow q
passing smile, or word, upon the orphan
but she, the orpan herself, would cherish
him in blameless and INDUCED passion IN
her bosom; and call down the blessing OF
God, morning AMI evening, and many
time beside, on the beads Of himself, his
wife, whoever she might be, and the chill
dren that might rise up, like flowers, around
their feet A love 50 hopeless so pure so
unselhsh and 90 unknown, il surely could
] be no sin for her to cherish, who had no re-
lations Of her own, and few friends indeed,
friends doomed, no doubt, to DO fewer
still, year after year, till at last she might
have none TO comfort her but her sweet Con-
stance, whom other affections might also
keep too often away, and the image Of that
brother; an image which engrayen on her
heart, could only cease to be when that heart
was broken, or had wasted and withered
away into the dust.
Helen was walking one evening by the
river side, and had descended Into small
green glade on o wooded bank, from which
was cheerful and pleasant prospect Of the
town and the rich country round, when Henry
| Beaumont was at her side, aud taking her
hand in his, pressed it 70 his heart, and then
| led her to a stone-seat beside O little spring
that bubbled up through the roots Of the
trees, and danced IT'S shori silvery course
down into the Tweed. Poor Helen's breath
came quickly when he pressed her to his
bosom, and with few burning kisses and
breathing words, declared bis love and pas
sion, and that che must become his wife. A
pang Of joy wenl Through her heart, and she
couif Just family utter, Your wife n
/" Yes-my wife say that il will be so and
may God iorget me il | am not kind TO you
my best and most besutiful helem-all
the days Of my ifer' "Qhl Sir; you
cou d be unkind to no one but think-oh
think-who am-unfit sad unworthy to
be the wife Of Henry Beaumonti" He had
an eloquent tongue; an eloquent eve ;-ano
there was eloquence in the throbbing aud
beating Of ths heart that swelled his manly
breast He held Helen in his arms, as #
she had been frightened and palpitAti1e
idove; ana shs wished not TO be released
from that dear embrace She, the poor de-
spised and slighted orphan, beard herself
blessed by him who was the pride and flower
of Scotland's youth; his gentle, and tender,
and respectful kisses starred up an the holy
; thoughts that she had hidden In her heart,
: that they might lie there unseen forever
. and In that trance Of bliss, they all over.
flowed; and few words Of confessed aftsc'
ton escaped her lips. Yes; love you
} hey ond life and my own soul bat never
never, sir, may be your wife. rhlnA who
you are; and then who am | 4; and . voics
viii tell you that We can never Be united" I"
With these words she b-oke from his arms
: and knelt down, nor vas it in his power, q
confounded was he, for . few minutes. h
} iift her up. . Bot though know you cas-
{ never marry me, remember-oh never
/ never cease 10 remember, that isll down o.
|, j my knees bsfose yea; and vowed befsI'
7 that God who has hitherto preserved me i
(, innocsnos and psace, % devote nysed hence
! forth 70 your love. Ensneh win II be 10
I me 70 cherish your image forsvsr In ny heart
4 20 weep with joy vhsn bear that you ar
J, happy never % repins, nor envy her hap
b pinsss who may one day ns IN Jour boson'
2 byt since God sent me inte ths world an O
81 pkan uDhappily born, ~ ne strive 70 sah
!, due my soul tc - orphan,s fete, and sui
s nit quiedy and piously y u solitary year
that may Be- awaiting -. vhen ny no.H
! gray bairs ass covered vith dasknses Nos
: sif; !; nov, ny bslossd Hsnry Beanmonts u
q - sishsr RaEt e y.lk e~sg y silenee, trn.