The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1868-09-19


from the house. AZ that moment Hslsr
rose, and locking through an opening Of ths
darkened window, she saw the bssr IN mo
tion--slowly borne away up the avenue, be
low the shadow Of the trees. A tall 6gur,
was ct the right aide Of the eof1n--one d
the mourners. IL was Henry Beaumont
his head was bowed down, and his face se.
date IN manly sorrow. See how my bro
ther weepsp said Constance: and Heller
did not fear then 10 call down the blessings
Of God upon his bead, and then turning q
Constance, she said Happy, happy ar'
thou TO have such brother u And q they
we're kissing each other, the funeral disap
psared.
Two days after the funeral, Mrs. Beau
mont came for her daughter. she behaved
With the greatest tenderness and sympathy
to Helen Eyre, and had not sat long in com-
pany with the orphan, till her soul was even
awed by the sanctity Of her resignation. The
flowers that the old lady had 20 carefully at.
snded did not miss her hands the room
Lore no marks Of the distraction or forget.
fulness Of passionate grief; Helen's dress
was simple and graceful ~ ever /; and except
that her face was some what wan, aud her
voice occasionally tremulous, there were no
other outward symptoins of sorrow. II the
orphan had thought of the future, il was
plain that she thought that vista to tsrmi-
nate in the mystery Of . darkness spread
out IN mercy from the hollow Of Coos awful
hand, and that she was not about to terrify
herself with phantoms Of her own creation.
Ii sorrow, sickness, or desertion by friends,
we're to be her lot, she would lay her hands
upon the Bible, aud endure the decree. But
irofa the miidness Of her expressive counse-
Nance, It seemed that her heart was confined
chiefly 10 dreams OF toe happy past. She
mad NO sins--and not many frailtles with
which to reproach herself-for these her
contrition needed not TO be bitter-no harsh
or hasty woIus-nO unAmisble or unfilia
looks had ever passed from her towards her
beneiactress-and ~ the humhlest are per
mitted to enjoy the delight OF conscious pi-
ETY., aad Of u sincere wish TO do we'll so was
HELEN Eyre now happy 10 all the remem-
brancc os her affection to her mother, and
of every little daily and hourly act per-
forDed, not from duty, but in love.
Mrs. Montgomery had bequeathed to the
orphan the pleasant dwelling in which she
had passed all her days, And Helen desired
no Othes place of retirement Till she should
be called to the last final and profound re-
pose. The sacred influence Of death had
quite suppressed-not extinguished her pure
passion for Henry Beaumont; and, wilhoaI
agitation, she sat now IN the presence Of his
stately mother, nor feared ever 10 deserve
her frOwns. She hac seen Henry walking
and weeping, aourning by she side OF that
coffin, and the remembrance was now sad
and delightful TO her soul nor, IL he could
be happy without her, did shs wish ever to
behold him more. A lonely life needed not
to be . melancholy OK She had stores for
thought LAID up In her heart, young as ii
was, and powers OF thought, too, confirmed
by nature, aud strengthened by contsnted
innocence. And she feared not, when the
years OF her youth had guided away in the
seclusion Of those peaceful shades, that age
would bring It's own happiness and its own
wisdom, nor was there any reason to fear
even the coming IN of feeble footsteps s1d
Of gray hairs. Henry Beaumont's impas.
stoned vows never could be realized but
that place where she had heard them might
be visited often and often. and hers, she
knew, was not q weak and repining heart,
that would die Of hopeless and unfortunate
love.
While they were sitting together calmly
and kindly, and the time was just at hand
when Constance was about to give her friend
a farewell kiss, she saw her brother coming
down the avenue, and although Helen had
sand nothing to her Of the avowal of his
he had himself told bis sister Of
all that had happened, and sworn her for the
present to secrecy. He entered the room.
not with the same fervent air and expres.
sion as when they last met, but with a ten
nerness that was far more Irresistible to moor
Helen's soul A visit to an orphan who had
Just buried her best-not her only friend
was not to be visit of avowed love. but AZ
sympathy and coincidence and Henry looked
upon her with such profound pity, and such
gentleness Of eye and voice. that
his mother saw and felt that Helen Eyre
was dearer to him than life. That sudden
gave her q pang, and her conn
tenance fell and was darkened. IL a source
Of affection to mothers heart to have her
fond, and proud, and aspiring hopes of AN
only SON crushed, and nothing substituted
in their stead, but what she conceives dis
honor and degradation. But she knew the
depth Of her sons affection for Helen Eyre
from his anxiety TO restrain and conceal il |:
and being well aware Of his determined cha
racter, she perceived that there was no
chance Of averting from her house the stain
ofssuch marriage, except il were to be
found In the quiet and humble soul of the
orphan, who might be dissuaded from en-
tering into family to which an alliance
with her would be considered a disgrace.
Mrs. Beaumont's agitation at last became
and, as frequently feelings are
brought 70 q crisis of sudden. and nv
some unexpected movement or sally Of tenn.
per 80 was it now-for Henry discernsd
what was passing in his mothers mind
AMI from 40 uncomfortable impulse, avowed
his love for Helen Eyre, and bis resolution
to make her his wife. "She has confessed
that she loves me, and no power on earth has
q right to keep us assunder mother.
grieve to offend or distress you, but Won
must receive Helen Eyre ~ your daughssr.n p
At any other time this bold avowal would
have sent much anger and grief into the
proud spirit Of Mrs. Beaumont. But she
had loved her dead friend with exceeding
affection--her voice seemed yet to whisper
along the walls--they were all sitting To-
gether in deep mourning for her loss- and
the meek face Of the guileless orphan was
enough to quiet all angry emotion, and 70
inspire something Of the same calm spirit
with which it was 90 serenely suffnsed.
Helen sat almost unmoved, nor did she utter
word. But Henry's mood soon changed,
and he knealt down a. his potherss feet
aieng with the adectk'uste Conssance. Each
took hold Of one of her hands, kissed il, and
bathed 1t In tears. Oh, mother. withhold
not your blessings from sweet Helen Eyre .
said Constance, with dswy voice OF sup
plication /; = you know she will be the blss-
sing Of Henry's D here, and prepare his
soul for heaven lyon know thas shs will
be a. loving and dutiful : daughtsr even -
myself :-you know how your friend loved
her, and blesssd her name to you, and wept
for the sake Of I'll her goodnsss Oh, mo-
theri fsar not that this marriage wants only
your sanction to make it . happy marriage
indeed 70 The iady,s heart vas melted
within her, and she said, = Helen Eyre thou
ert m orphsn no more come and knesl