The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1868-09-19
HELEN EYRE.
From Lights and Shadows Of Scottish Life" BY Prof
Wilson.
(coNcLUDED.)

| (coScLUDED.)
| Then, too, she thought what q heartless
sin il would be, even if her marriage with
Henry Beaumont could take place, to leave
her old mother, Who was now so weak and
fraIl. She had been taken, when q baby only
few days old, under the protection Of that
saint and would she fly of on the wings Of
a selfish and ungrateful love, and, forget
ting those totterng steps and dim eyes, sink
into the bosom of one whom she had known
for few weeks only, and to whom she
owed nothing but few impassi ned words
and vows2 Such thoughts came across her
heart. But she was nc weak enthusiast
even ia virtue And her own pure heart
told her, that though it would have never al
lowed her to leave her mother, who was
much broken down, and too pla:alY sinking
into the grave, vet that she might, without
any violation or forgetfulness Of her
flial duties, had given Henry Beau
mont a pledge to become his wife, when
the event she feared and shuddered indeed
to name, but which every one knew was
near, had taken place. All these were be-
wildering thoughts and when poor Helen
went into her mothers room, which she did
everv morning at a stated hour, her neart
was laboring under heavy load OF emo
tion.
Helen drew the curtains, and was about
to kneel down at the bedside, and bless her
aged benefactress in prayer. But It seemed
that she had not yet awoke 4; and, stooplng
down, the orphan affectionutely whispered
few words into her ear, that she might
gently dispel the slumber. But that was
SLEEP which neither low whisper nor thun-
der-crash might disturb. Helen knew that
Ter mother was dead And, for the first
time in her life, for her heart was the mis-
tress, and not the slave Of its passions, she
tainted at the sight Of the motionless body,
with her arms laid softly on its breast.
Before the sun had reached its meridian,
the death of Mrs Montgomery was known
for many miles round the town where she
had led more than twenty years of benign
and charitable life The melancholy tidings
soon reached the Hirst, and Constance Beau
mont flew to comfort her dearest friend.
Nor did her mother, who yet knew nothing
of Henry's avowal of his love to Helen,
think Of preventing Constance from carry
ing comfort to the bereaved orphan. Bers
was a proud but a warm heart and having
truly loved Mrs. Montgomery, il was in
tears that she saw Constance depart to cneer
the poor creature who was now sitting by
the corpse Of her whom she had loved and
respected from childhood, and whom she
was, ere long, to follow to the grave. That
thought Of their ages being the same, was
a. once tender and solemn and something
of the sanctity Of that pure unmiDgled af-
fection with which she regarded the memory
Of Mrs. Montgomery, could not but attach
n l. T. -Lnk k~1 A<1 L.
declining age, and repaid, by the most beau
tiful constancy OF final love, the cares which
had just been lavIshed, in the warmth Of
nature and the charity Of Christian faith,
upon her orphan head.
! Helen knew that Constance would, imme-
diately on hearing Of Mrs. Montgomery's
death, write her q letter Of tender condo
lence but she was not prepared for such
excessive kindness, when that most amiable
| girl opened her bedroom door with her own
hand, and with soft steps and streaming eyes.
went up to her and kissed her cheek. The
orphan felt in that embrace, that she was
not yet solitary In the world. There was
rothing to break this friendship, although
much TO crush that other love, and she was
glad, even in her sorrow, to know, that
through all the changes and chances OF this
life, she would still hold place in the heart
of Constance Beaumont The dead still
ness Of the house was supportable, now that
the arm of her sister was round her neck
and they soon went hand in hand together.
and gazed on the beautiful serene counte-
nance Of her whose spirit was in heaven.
OF the two, Constance most loudly went.
for her tears fell more for the living than
the dead. VINO in all the world could be
more solitary than Helen Eyref Yet her
brow-eyes-cheeks and lips were all calm
there was no agitation--nothing like de-
SPAR insher quiet motions-and the Iight Of
Gods mercy shone radiantly upor her "A
she knelt down TO . prayer Of thanksgiviue
in that desolate house. Never befors hsd
the full perfection OF her character besn
made manifest. Nov it was tried. and
met the sudden and severe demand. Her
voice faltered not, nor did her heart QUAKE
She was alone on the earth--but God va.
in heAsen-and with that tubslme thourht
! Helen Eyre was now stronger in her usfsr
destitutiOn, than if without 1t she had bean
ena esched in the midst Of Q hoak Of mortal
friends. The spirit Of her pisty klndlsd
that too OF her beloved CvletAnoe--and thev
sat together ia the silent house, or In twi.
| light walked out among the secret trses.
perfectly composed and happy, till the day
Of the funeral.
That day was, Indeed, one Of sore trial
and Helen needed the support Of Der frieud.
Often, often--on every day sincs her death,
nsd she stolen into the room whsrs her NO.
ther lay, and sat BY the bedside q motion
less - the figure that lay there; bat ~
hour was come when these visits wses -
end, and the phantom was to b bouas u