Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1870-02-02

too distinct from the external for this to b
difficult; but at last, alone in my own room
the icy numbDess that had gathered roun
my heart gave way. / flung myself on ID
| knees by the bedside ard covered my fac
with my hands, though there was no one t
see the tears that came to my relief A
my vain trust. All my foolish hope. zBr
he had loved me once, and there was sti
Icomfort in the thought. Who has not ono
IN his life been happy in a visionary Par'
disc, and been driven out by the famin
sword But the degree of suffering depend
on the capacity to suffer, and mine We
great. On some minds an impression is n
sooner made than it begins to be efaceG
Time alone, with light imperceptibl
touches, suffices to smooth away its traces
but on others, strong impression one
made is inefacable like characters chise
ed on hard stone the marks may b
overgrown, but beneath the moss an,
lichen that hides them they still remain
till the stone itself shall perish The lei
ter was consumed. I started up and pace
| the room with the feeling of cage
animal. [ longed to rush out into tn
woods and fields, and there, in solitude
under the stormy sky, do battle with tn
fiery pain that gnawed at my heart; bu
no, [ must wrap myself in the Spartan
| cloak of resolute resolve reserve, and dit
it, but it was hard struggle. I do no
love to contemplate it even now Let th.
picture go.
+ Years pass away, and another day ar
rlves, the last on which [ was ever destined
to feel strong emotion.
I had arrived a. the age of thirty I wa
IN the drawing-room of small house il
l]Forquay, where we were passing the win
| ter for the sake of my mothers failins
health. She, wrapped in large shawl
Is sitting IN the warmest corner by the fir
talking with unusual cheerfulness to M
brother Charles and his wife, who were
| staying with US; but T. withdrawn from the
bright fire and cheerful talk, sat by The
window looking into the dreary street
bleak and dismal in the lengthening days
land Strengthening cold Of early February
Ali my poor mother. I know why she is
SO cheerful. I had on that day received al
eligible offer of marriage.
Il can depart in peace now, she said
when [ showed her Colonel Gr1fith's letter.
L shall see you in a home ofyour own, my
Alicew
Yes, it would be better so. I was very
fortunate woman. Colonel Grifiths would
have been a good N atch for me when ]
was in the zenith of my beauty how
lucky then to make such a marriage now
had struggled with my wasted 1--we my
vain regrets. There was something buried
deep down IN my heart, but it lay very
still. 1t gave no sign of life Wished to
forget 1t was there. Yet on this day there
were ominous STRINGS and heavings in the
grave where it lay hid, sort of convulsive
sob; but no, it must be dead, it had been SO
long buried. Why should not my future
lite be bright? and then nv eyes and
thoughts wandered to the. opposite house 1t
had been tenanted by lady, of whom all I
knew was that she was solitary and wild
ow, but | had watched her gradual decline
with interest that was partly pity and part
ly envy. She was young certainly not old
er than myself, and her task was done al
ready. The soul that looked out of her
bright hmpid eyes was fast departing to
some calm region of eternal rest; whilst
for me, how many weary years had to be
traversed before my pilgrimage should be
over? Yet to see her dying among strang-
ers so lonely and forlorn was a sad and pit
lfuI sight, but that was all over now, she
had departed, and the hearse which was to
carry her frail faded form to a distant
grave stood at the door. A travelling car
rlage was there too; that must be for the
brother, who had come to her only the day
before she died.
Very sad and dispirited as I was feeling,
the contemplation of death was more con-
genial to me than the thought of life.
continued to look on dreamily, but when
the door opened and he, her brother, ad-
vanced to the Threshold, what made my
heart stop and then throb so tumultuously?
Why were life, and death, and eternity, all
forgotten in the absorbing agony of expec-
tation with which [ watched to see his face.
did see it, he looked up. Oh! will moth
ing keep him one moment whilst look at
the grave, care-worn features once more
Once more No, he gets into the carriage,
he pulls down the blinds, and he is gone
1 walked slowly back towards the fire.
s'Why, Alice, you look as if you had seen
ghost y was the exclamation that greeted
me. And SO had. had seen one who
for me had no longer an existence uoon
earth--I had ses4 Ralph Tafford, and, like
an apparitiop from the land of spirits, he
came IN time to warn me from the evil l
was about to do. Yet, after that strong
yearning to look upon his face again had
passed, it was not so much love that works
In my heart as 6esparing conviction that
this man was my fate. That to be his sac
rlfee was my destiny, and that could not
fght-against it. had never been SO near
hating Ralph as at the time when Iresolv-
ed to offer up all the remainder of my life TO
the memory of the love I once bore him;
neverfetso tender gratitude to the other as
when | determined to reject him; but that
one electric movement has lighted up every
hidden corner of my heart, and shown me
tho dishonor it would be to accept that for
which | could give no equivalent. That day
was the last of my life. I set m to myseli
since then to have had nothing to do with
this world, only to wait the end, and muse
over the painful riddle of existence with
patient wonder, and hope, more lively as
the time of my departure draws near that
when the veil of ofmaterlal things is removed,
this lite ofmine, SO suffering and apparently
so purposeless, may, in the unknown world
which is to come, turn out after all to have
had a use and meaning
An Etanunnf ssTErann