Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1869-02-11

To paint the anger and dismay of the faith
,r would be vain attempt. He stormed,
ie ragged through many hours, and when |
hose who had gone in pursuit of the miss
ng girl returned with the information that
she was already the wife OF Harry Hurst, he
uttered curse so bitter that those around
him shrank from his cruel words.
The forsaken bridegroom spoke in defence
Of the runaway:
may, nay, cousin, recall those words
you cannot mean them. Though Fanny
has treated me badly, can forgive her, and
so will you, her only parent, when your
wrath has had time to cool"
s'That proves how little you know about
me-" was the savage response. 81 never
forgive. She knew that when she detied
me. but she did not care Let her go with
the beggar she has chosen, and sup poverty
to the dregs; she may die in ditch, and
will not put out my hand to help her."
ssTut, tut! that is nonsense. After all,
Fanny is your child You could not be SO
hard with her.
'sCoultn't /? Well we shall see. She
is no longer my child disown her now
and forever. When | had settled every
future so brilliant was with
in her grasp, she has elected TO mar her own
fate. and link it with that of Il man who has
but handsome person
ard an oily tongue. Perdition seize them,
| say, and mean it too"
Clement made no reply to this, for he saw
that Mr.. Falconer was too much excited to
listen to any excuse he might attempt to Of
fer for his daughters conduct. He went out
to expedite the preparation for his own de-
parture, and soon went away, never to re-
turn. lie made Il heightened tour through
the United States, and saw all that was most in
teresting to thoughtful and cultivated mind
like his and finally. in quiet Southern
will age, he made the acquaintance Of poor,
but learned, professor in a college Of small
repute was invited to his house, and there
saw his daughter-a girl Of twenty, with
whom he fell desperately in love. His heart
had never been touched by his cousin he
had admired her, was willing to accept her
as bis wife, and had fancied that to be all
that was necessary to respectable happiness
in his station Of life.
But Marion Bertrand taught him II different
lesson. Her dark, brilliant beauty, her pas
sionatc nature, was n new revelation TO him;
and, before the calm, middle aged man was
aware of his danger, he was made captive
by this young syren, married her privately,
and remained in domestic felicity till he was
summoned to his native land by the illness
Of his uncle, Lord Rochdae He sailed
from Southern port, leaving his wife be-
hind, till he should be able to reconcile his
aristocratic connections TO his plebeian mar
riage. The vessel on which he sailed was
wrecked, and every soul on board was lost.
Marion was repudiated by her husbands
connections, and the claims of her baby 10Y
were set aside in favor Of a younger sister OF
Lord Rochdalc. In few years, Marion
,,.1. .,,,tI Il:
to Virginia, and settled on Il valuable farm
within few miles of the Vale, where the
yiudictiye old Mr.. Faconer was passing his
solitary life. Marion was aware of the CON
neciion between that gentleman aud her for
mer husband, but she rarely spoke of it her
young son bore the name Of her pre- sent hus-
band, and as Clement Melrose, he was known
to the neighborhood.
Within a mile OF her residence was an
humble cottage, with few acres Of badly
kept land around it, which was the home Of
Mrs Hurst, the discarded daughter of Mr..
Falconer. The old man had kept his word.
and every overture toward reconciliation
was haIshly refused. The fortune of Hurst
was small, and from year TO year it dimin-
ished under his careless management. lie
was not man Of business habits, and he
had little s'eadiness OF character. lie loved
his wife, aud was always kind and gentle
with her, but both soon awoke isom their
dream of love in cottage, 10 find low ut
tcrly they were unsuitcd to the life they
had embraced Poverty came swiftly enough
but love did not forsake them, they chung
together through all, and bore their hard
ships as only united hearts can bear them;
for
"LOve will make endnrahle thing which else
Would OVerset the brain break the
Utter ruin came at length and, in a state
Of desperation, Mrs. Hurst took her only
surviving child, Mary,a lovely girl of fifteen
and set out to make last appeal to her
father. But she found the old man as relent.
less as fate itself. lie drove them from his
presence with bitter taunts, and finally
threatened TO set his bloodhound on them. if
they did not instantly leave his premises.
They turned to go, when the merciess old
man cried out:
''Slop--let me saya few parting words;
as they arc the last shall ever address to
either Of you. you may sp"re time TO Ws,sn
to them
His daughter paused as if spell-bound
sustaining her trembling form on the arm Of
her excited child. Mr.. Falconcr pitilcssy
went on:
" Like me, you have but one child, and
HiiS q Nhh-hAel' way HOlllt ~ lbu
the sorrow and disappointment have sui
fcred through you. May she follow her own
blind will in defiance Of you, and find what
you have lound-misery and DEGRADATION as
her portions the child of such parents
merits no better fate
Having uttered these terrible words, he
wheeled, aud suddenly disappeared among
the thick shrubbery, whis;lng his dog to
follow lin
Mis-, Hurst sunk down completely over
whe'med. Many l,nclt beside hcr, chalctl her
cold hands, AID finally aided her to ise TO
her feet, and drag her weary steps to ihuir
desulAle home. AZ intervals, Mrs Hurst
pressed her Handkerchief TO hcrlips,und when
they were once more in The lighted room ut
home Mary was shocked 10 see thai il was
stained with blood.
The violent emotion which Mrs Hurst
had undergone, lad caused her to rupture II
hlooa-yesscl in hcr lungs, and in spite Of All
the aid that could be rendered to her, before
morning dawncd the worn spirit was at rest.
They laid her in the neighboring church
yard beside her mother, and the two bercav-
cd ones prepared to leave the humble cot
tage which had so long sheltered them and
Harry Hurst, ruined in fortune and broken
in spirit, went forth with his young daugh-
ter, rs unfit to cope with the outside world
as she was.
Mrs Melrose wasyovy Kind 10 them in thcii
sore trouble, and she wished to retain Mary
with her till her father had settled on some
plan for their future support. But he would
not listen to any arr ,ngemcnt that separated
them. He had friend in Philadelphia who
would help him 10 get into employment, he
said. and to that city he went. Those whit
had known lin in his country home lost
sight Of him from that day, and what his fate
was, or that Of the fair gill who accompani
ed him, remained mystery to them.
II Mr. falconcr was struck with rcmorst
for the harshncss which had resulted % IA
tally, no one knew it for he went on hi,
way as calmly and immovably, us if noth
ing had happened to trouble or annoy him
As time passed on, and years came and went
even the memory Of the discarded taughte
was lost The old man fell into the las, de-
crepitudc of age, and to prevent the SINAI
remnant Of his estate from paseing into lin
hands of his daughter descendants, he sol,
the Vale, as before stated, to Mr. Ashford
who had iarmcd it for several years pas,
with the proviso that he (Falconer) was I,
he taken care of as long as he lived, an,
buried respectfully at his dcccasc.
CHAPTER Ill
HOPELESS DEATH-BED