Vermont daily transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1868-1870, 1869-02-19

tne qulNerlng lip, ana the intensely
mournful eyes, She covered her own
face with her han Is and burst into tears
while the young husband, awed by the
terrific silence OF her he had wronged,
gasped for breath, ind staggered back
against the wall. Then Lucy clasped
her hand on her forehead and first gave
voice to her anguish and despair in one
fearful cry, which could not but ring
forever through the souls Of that gull v
pair, and fell i'm death-like swoon at their |
feet.
After the inscnsible girl had been re-
moved to chamber, II stormy scene en- |
sued in the room beneath. The parents
and guests were alike enraged against |
W., but the tears and prayers of his
young wife, the petted beauty aud
spoiled child, at last softeued somewhat
the anger of the parents. and an oppor-
tunity for an explanation was accorded
| to the offenders.
! A sorry explanation il proved. The
gentleman affirmed that the first sight
of Ellen's lovely face had weecked the
empire of her palmer sister over ,his af-
fections. Frequent interviews had
but he had been held in check by honor,
and never told his love, until, when on
his way to espouse another. in an UNI
guarded moment, he revealed it, and
the avowal had called forth an answer
ing acknowledgment from Ellen.
They had thought it best, in order, 'to
save pain to Lucy" and prevent the OPP
position from her, and to secure her own
happiness to be married before their ar
rival at c..
Lucy remained insensible for some
time. When she revived and apparent
ly regained her consciousness, she still
maintained her strange silence. This
continued for many weeks when it par
tally passed away, her friends saw with
inexpressible grief that her reason had
fed-that she was hopelessly insane!
But her madness was of mild and
HARMLESS nature. She was gentle and
peaceable as ever, but frequently sighed
and seemed burdened with some great
sorrow which she could not herself COM
prehend. She had one pecu iarity
which all who knew her must r.collect;
this was wild fear and careful avoid
ance of men. She seemed possessed of
the spirit of unrest. She could not, nor
would not, be confined, but was contin-
ually escaping from her friends, they
knew not whittier.
While herparents lived, they, by their
watchful care and unwearied efforts in
some measur. controlled this sad pro-
pensity: but when they died their
l
less, friendless and forlorn.
Through laughing springs and rosy
summers, tramp, tramp, tramp-nO rest
for her of the crushed heart and craZed
brain.
remember her as she was in my car
ly childhood, towards the last Of her
. weary pilgrimage. AS my father and
elder brothers were frequently absent,
and as my mother never closed her heart
or door on Crazy Lucy" she often
spent an hour or two ty our Preside.
Her appearance was very singular. He
, gown was always patched with many
colors, and her shawl or mantel was
worn and TORN, until it was open work
f and fringe. The remainder of her IN s.
cradle wardrobe she carried in bundle
on her arm, and sometimes she had q
number of parcels of old Tags, dried
herbs, etc.
In the season of flowers her tattered
, bonnet was profusely decorated with
those which she gathered in the woods
, or by the wayside. Her love for these
r and her sweet voice were all that were
left her of the bloom and music of her
I existenc Yet, no; her meek and child
] like piety still fingered. Her God had
her spirit the smile of His love yet
5 cleaned faintly-in the waste garden of
| her heart she still heard His voice at
t eventide, and she was not afraid. Her
f Bible went with her every where-a torn
and soiled olume, but as holy still
J and it may be, q dearly cherished, my
: dear reader, as the gorgeous copy now
lying on your table, bound in "purple
and gold" and with the gliding unfair
= nished upon its delicate leaves.
Thirty years from the time Of the COM
nf IF 10 fin n ictn
bleak autumnal evening a rough cOun-
e try wagon drove into the town of c..
8 1t stopped at the aims house; an atten.
uated form was lifted up and carried in,
and the wagon rumbled away. This
, was Lucy DuttOn, brought to her native
8 town to die.
e She had been in decline for some
t months, and the miraculous strength
which had so long sustained her in her
? terly. Her 81 ter had died some time
Leiore and the widowed husband had
= soon after removed to the far west; SO
a Lucy had no friends, no home but the
v alms-hOuse.
One day, about a week from the time
: of her arrival, Lucy appeared to suffer
. considerably and those about her looked
1 for her release almost impatiently but
y at night she was evidently better, and
:. for the first time she sept TRANQUILITY TILL
y morning. The matron, who was by her
bedside when she awoke, was startled
8 by the clear and earnest gaze which met
her own, but she smiled and bid the in
d valid "Good morning." Lucy looked
: bewildered, but the'vOice seemed to reas-
e sure here, and she Exclaimed: "Where
!, am l, and who are you? do not know
/ YOU"
A wild surmise flashed ecross the
= mind of the matron the lorg-lost rea-
son of the wanderer had returned. But
: the good woman replied calmly and
soothingly: