Vermont daily transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1868-1870, 1869-05-20
Two Chapters in a Woman's
Life.

The girl face was partly turned away
because she could not quite control her
features or keep down the rising tears
of deep humiliation and pain; Tut soon
q settled contempt and scorn drove all
other expression from her countcnancc
and dried the moisture i'm her ewes.
She turned suddenly towards Clarence
Naunton, and the brilliant flashing of
her eyes and her naughty bearing star
Il, I'll an exclamation from him.
"Lucic!n he said. " You are not an
gry-you must see that am right in
this matter. Ofcoursc ii il as painful to
me rs it can be to you, but | would
really be doing you an injustice i'm pres
sing my claims when you may Go 50
much better. never could forgive
myself if stood in the way of your
obtaining "a high position as was
yours before this unfortunate failure of
your good father. You are, too, so ac-
custemed to all the luXuries of wealth.
no, ] really never could forgive mysclf.n
Enough, s,r-you are all that is gen
erous and Thoughtful; and, beingso, |
am sure you will pardon me i'll must
leave you nOw-my father requires my
constant presence. Good morning. Mr..
! NauntonN
And Miss Mansfield, with her wontcd
courtesy, rang Tor the servant to attend
to Mr.. Naunton ; and then slowly, like
one in dream. returned to her father
| bedside.
| The poor old man was stricken unto
death; but Lucie did not know that the
quiet, wan, sleeping face Oh which her
eyes rested, as she seated herself would
soon be more quiet, more pallid, and
more rigid in a deeper sleep.
| n dreary sigh heavod it, way up from
her heart, while she sat there and
thought of the future. The news of her
fathers failure had been severe bio " ;
but what was that to the modification
of having all her love, her vows, her
promises, her hctrothal ring, returned
to her, with,
| ~ thank you-you arc very good
but this Is 10 doubt a sacrifice, and
very likely sou can do better else
where
But all this would have been as no.
thing if she had not loved the man
and, overcome by this thought, her face
went down into her rOsy-white hands,
and the tears that blistered her checks
were not so much of shame and anger
AS of keen, bitter disappointment and
sorrow.
81 loved him 50, oh loved him so /!
| Clarence; Clarence, my only love If /
could even feel that il was indeed de-
sire for my welfare that prompted him;
| but no! even that crumb of consolation
is denied me. He never, never loved
me. | was nothing to him but the
| daughter of the wealthy Mr.. Mansfield, ;
| and tears and obs again took the place
Of words, aid shook the girls slender
| form like Il whirlwind.
Mr.. Mansfield moved uncasily and
half awoke and Lucie quickly stepped
INTO the shadow Of the curtains, and
then pouring the contents of a perfume
bottle upon her handkerchief, passed it
over her telr-sta ned face and swollen
eyes. The look of almost plying scorn
and contempt came back to her face
again, as she did so. She raised the
dainty, carved bit of crystal in her hand
and carefully replaced the silver stop
per; and then, placing it on he we'll
appointed, luxurious toilette stand
looked around on all the evidences of
wealth that everywhere met her gaze.
| "Truly,' She said, with a bitter
smile, IL am surrounded with luxury
how shall learn to wait upon myself
and do without all those dainty articles?
| | wonder he could have given me ups
easily, while had even the semblance
of wealth surrounding me-" and then,
as her gaze returnedto the bed on which
| lay her stricken fathcr-that luxurious,
downy couch. with its laces hangings
and satin coverlid-shc shuddered to
think how he would bear the change,
the man grown old in tic possession OF
| wealth aud all that ii could purchase
| The look of his lace returned To her, as
| it was on that evening waen he had
entered her room three days before and
proclaimed his ruin to her, as she STOOD
| putting the last touches to that grand
| toilette which was to strike all others
into the shade the ball to which she
| was going. She felt again the speechless
horror which had sent her reeling into
a chair, and saw him, the moment after
lying senseless at her feet. How death
| ly cold his hand felt as she helped to
lay him on the bed, and what camp,
clammy dew met her touch when she
| smoOthed back the silver hair from his
| brow.
"My poor father! My poor, dear
| father! And his sorrow was all for me,
| know. Whatever happens, he must
| never know this new blow that has fall
! len on me.'
The tears stood in hareyes SO thickly
| that she could not see that he was
awake, and looking, at her, till Mr..
| Mansfield spoke in low, weak voice:
"Lucie-Lucie darling!n
| She dashed the tears from her eyes
and was by his side in the same mo
.nent strange-an indescribe change
had come upon his face, and her heart
beat thickly, with dread to see it. She
put out her hand instinctively to the
bellrope, to summon aid, but be stayed
her with feeble gesture.
"Oh, father! Father, speak to me-"
she cried. "What is the matter, dear
father ~
ut was not my fault, my girl; was
doing it all for the best, Lucie you are