Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1870-10-20
WOODSTOCK, W., THURSDAY, 0CT 20, 1870

Joy iI we 'tHllUi0W VI u UlHUcI llN
4 we in the false h.pe that the lowe
would sill keep her with Us.
A. for me, had entered u new aut
charmed polh, borlcrcd with pa~slol
flowers. over whose quiet sfadeS th
hush Of the Son!'s deepest happiucS
broodcd; nrw will had abSorhcd m,
own, a new life taken the place Of m,
former existence, and was too happ'
in to'IoNjng The cnchan'cd plthw ny Il
question where Il Noon, ,,".. NE.
Mrs. Wade wa' Il Scot hy birth, 0no
was hcircss TO large estate in ScolIpnA
aud had long ral>cd Of going there will
| N!aicom; but her failing health had he
laycA the voyage from month to m NTH
un;il the subject ceased to be talked up
on, and she wished her son to 90 a!Il"
aud settle up oil her affairs in her stead
and it was decided for him to depart
early in the sprjn!,
Oae nigh, il was in March, Malcom
was absent, and | was alone in the par
lor, his mother having been engaged
with her lawyer in the library, nearly
all The afternoon; after he was gouc,
she called me to her. aud in an uuuSual-
Iy cheerful manner told M that she had
arranged some matters which had bGcp
troubling her long time, nnd added.
Il have made my will to dHy, Eii'h,
bnt | prefer that you should not tell
Malcom, because it would di>trc$s him
unnecessarily; bat knew it would be
better TO have Il will made, in order to
avert any trouble concerning my prop.
crly in ScoNland.'
Then followed long talk between Us.
which wll not repeat. but throughout
the whole | wert bitterly, for | knew |
was losing her He sweet, gentle "oice
thrilled TO my very heart, and her look
was liyc nohjHg earthly rs she blessed
me solemniy aud badc me good might,
SAYING she wished t, be alone until Nal.
COINS return.
| eft her very nnwjllin.'y, but |
could not rcs,--I could only walk the
room and pray that he would hasten
home; every nerve -! my being was
niriil with the presence Of something
new AID icurIu, even the shadow OF
death
Lhe hours fled on, aul yet M,lcolm
wa~ away; bow >rilD eye'ythng was in
the house! | coull hear no sound cx-
crpt the loG tick tick Of the cloci in
the huIl, while my heart kept time with
its measured >troEc, until, unable to en-
duro the silence, tied on my bonnet
and went ont in the da'k. gu>ry night.
down the laHc TO the hjgh road, deter
mining not TO rurn back until met Mi
colin; and | remember with a shudl"r
how the high March wind mOanci and
shouted Ivy turns in the ffr.trces, that
with deep Sighs, like weird
whispers, all around me. Totally under
the influence OF superSit ons fear, | ian
on, unit! the SQUAD of his horses feet
uct my ear whcu, standing at the side
of the road, | called ont 10 him in the
darkness to stop,
"What's that?" cried his welcome
voice. Edith Sinclair, what in the
universe are you ont here alone for?
What has happened?
explained 10 him in word or two
the cause Of my terror, and reachiug
lown, he quickly lifted me to the saddle,
and we gal'opcd home.
We hascned to the library, where
The mo her still sat III her arm-chair,
before the fire. We spoke to hcr--we
threw ourselves, weeping on our knees
before her; but all in vain-the sweet
life which had so blest us both mad gone
with the shadowy presence, on. into The
black clamorous night
Nv father was still in Washington,
Ma colin was in Scotland, and Mrs.
Duncan and were alone at Sinclair
Hall.
There had been no formal betro;hal
between Milcom aud me before his de.
,arture. lie was under the shallow of
! great atllctiou, and we pariel in ST.
cnoe and tears. did not beg him tn