The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1868-03-20


action. My poor, motherless little
girl should never be Wretched by me.
We-papa and had resolved to
supply the place of her lost parents,
and must do it at whatever sacrifice.
When | had finally come to this
conclusion, | felt a strange peace Chat
was almost happiness) fill my soul,
aud knew thai the brightness was not
all gone from my life [. at least, could
/ be assured Of the approval of God
and my own conscience.
Well the trial came very soon. The
very next morning Mr.. st. Clair was
closeted an hour or two with ny
father, and then came intothe break
fast-ropm, where | was arranging the
china, asking if he might see me alone
a little while.
I turned quickly, so frightened
could scarcely utter. Wait min
ute, and FASTENED from the room.
knocked at papa's saRctunl. He
called a CHEEKY Come In and as
l entered, held out his hand Well,
my little girl, has he finished so soon?
[ thought it would take an hour or
two at least"
Hush, please! said I, putting
up my hand. What did Mr.. st.
Clair say to you, papa? Please tell
mel as l saw him hesitate.
Why. he wished to tell you him
self; but az you insist, | suppose /
may. He wants you to be bis little
wife, Puss, and you have my full con
sent and blessing
=" Papal I drew away from
his tender embrace and laid my
hand on his arm. Papa.
and my voice surprised me it was so
calm and clear, will you tell Mr..
ST Clair that / can never be his wife
Tell him immediately--it will save me
the-the trouble, | added hastily,
dropping my eyes.
My father gave a long, low whistle.
What Tom foolery is this, Blanche
You have always encouraged his at
tentions What does it mean, I say
| won't have any of this devnish firt-
ing / want you to understand |
thought you were too good a girl for
that"
Papa, don'tP' covered my face
and burst into tears. am not do
ing wrong. | can't marry him. Tell
him so, and let me go" And turning,
almost ran out of the room aud up
stairs to my own little chamber, where
i could pour out all my sorrow to
God, who was now my only friend, l
thought drearily.
Well, we'll, that was a sad, time
felt, sometimes, as If deserted by God
and man When | could no longer
endure my fathers frown, St. Glars
reproaehful glances, and Ianthe's
wondering looks (for she c0u d not
help noticing that something was
wrongJ | would hasten to some quiet
place and pray for peace and patience;
and, reader, my prayers were always
answered.
Mr.. st. Clair soon went away and
our life ran on in the same old grooves,
but Ianthe did not rally her prits
On the contrary, she grew paler and
thinner every day. | could scarcely
prevail upon her to go out of the
house, and she seemed to avoid the
whole family, myself In particular,
| keeping her room the most of the
time. At length, one day, she came
to my chamber, where [ sat engaged
in the very common place occupation
of darning stockings. She threw her
self YEARLY upon the lounge and
watched me silently for awhile, then
startled me with the abrupt cues
tiOa-" Blanche, why did Philip St.
| Clair leave here so suddenly last
August? Were you to blame for it?
/ tried to reply laughingly, but my
voice tremb.ed in spite of me. |
don't know as any one is to blame
IF he wanted to 90 he had perfect
right to, hadn't hep"
her excitement she slid from the
lounge to my feet, and, clasping my
knees, looked earnestly In my face.
There was some particular reason
for it. Tell me, cousin why did you
refuse him? 7
The question was so close, her
/ eager gaze so searching, could think
Of no evasion, 50 l bent lower over
my sewing, and replied, almost in
audibly-" | thought it best"
But, Blanche. you had eneour-
aged him till then. [ am sure you
cared for him. You could not be
guilty of tritifng with him!
Her scOrnful tone stung me, and
without a mqmeqts reflection, | flung
out the words - IanJhe, was in the
arbor that night | heard everything
NoU doyUu understand?
She gave a low cry, and sank IN
heap on the floor. Instantly repent
ing of my Lastly words, l bent over
and tried TO raise her; but throwing
her arms about my neck, she drew
me close TO her IN passionate en-
brace. Ny dear, noble Blanche!
How have you repaid my base in-
gtatitudel OH / remember my words
that night. l said | hated you,
anche-bdted you who have given