The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1870-09-24

forsook mo-her presence awed me
hesitated and faltered-
Mss Forester "
had never called her by any Other
name; but, as she afterwards told nc, the
word then went to Ler heart, and she
thought, " He cares not for me, and | am
lost n Would to Heaven that such had
ever remained her thoughts, and your friend
would have been less guilty and less wretch
ed than be this day il
| offered her my arm, and We walked
onward together but we spoke not to each
other-we could not speak. Each had a
thousand things to say, but they were all
unutterablc A stiied SIGH escaped from
her bosom, and mine responded to it. We
had approached within a quarter of mile
of her fathers house Still we were both
silent | trembled-I stood suddenly
still
Catherine - exclaimed, and my eyes
remai ned fixed upon the ground--my bos-
ON hboured in agony--I struggled for
words, and at length, added, " | cannot
return to your father's-Catherine, ] can
not -
Edward" she cried, WHITTIER
whittier would 90 you would not leave
me thus N What means this III
Means Catherine y returned l." are
We not to be another's? Would that | had
died before | bad looked upon thy face and
my soul was lighted with a feeting joy,
only that the midnight Of misery might sit
down on it for ever ~
"0h, speak not thus :" she cried, and
her gentle form shook as a blighted leaf ip
an autumual breeze speak not language
unfit for you to utter or me to hear.
Come. dear Edward -
e" Dear Edward ~ | exclaimed, and my
arms fell upon ber neck" that word has
recalled NE to myself" Dear Edward -
repeat those words again let the night
breeze whisper them, and bear them en- its
wings fir ever Tell me Catherine, am |
indeed dear to YOU
She burst into tears, and hid her face
upon my bosom
Edward n she sobbed, :" let Us leave
the place. have said too much-let Us
return home.'
" No loved one - resumed | If you
have said too much, we part now, and
eternity may no unite Us! Farewell,
Catherine be happy! Bear my thanks
TO your father and say-but, no, no az
nothing, let not the wretch he has honor I
with bis friendship blast his declining yea
Farewell, love II IPressed my lips upon
her snowy brow, and again ! cried,
&" Farewell" "
" You must not, shall not leave me,
she said, and trembIed while her fair hands
grasped my arm.
Catherine" added can | see you
anotber's? The thought chokes me.
Would you have me behold il? shall my
eyes be withered BY the sight' Never,
never Forgive me- Catherine, forgive
me- have acted rashly, perhaps cruelty;
but | would not have spoken as | have done,
| would have fed from your presence, |
would not have given one pang to your
gentle bosom, your father should not have
said that he sheltSrod n scorpion tsat
turued and stung him; but. meeting you as
| have done to day, / could no longer sup
press the tumul,uous feelings that struggled
in my bosom. But it is past. Forgive
me, forget me-"
Still memory hears her signs, as her tears
fell upon my bosom, and, wringng ber
hands in bitterness, she cried
" Say not forget you. lfs in compliance
with my fathers will, | must give my hand
to another, and if to him my vows must be
plighted, l will keep them sacred, yet my
heart is yours"
Lewis was deHrious with joy, as |
listened to this confession from her lips
The ecstasy Of years was compressed into
moment Of deep, speechless, almost painful
luxury. We mingled our fears together,
and our vows went up % heaven a sacrifice
pure as the first that ascended, when the
young earth offered up its incense from pari-
disc to the new born sun.
| remained beneath her fathers roof
until within three days Of the time fixed
for her becoming the bride Of Sir Peter
Blakely. Day by day, | beheld my
Catherine move to and fro like walkin~
corpse, pale, spoecbless, her eyes fixed an
lacking their lustrc Even ! seemed IN
noticed BY her. She made no arrange
ments for her bridal and when ] at times
whispered to her that she should be mine !
0 Lewis she would then smile, but it was
a smile where the light Of the soul was not,
more dismal, more vacant than the laugh Of
idiotcy Think, then, how unlike they
we're to the rainbOws of the soul which |
| had seen radiate the countenance Of nv
Catherine
Sir Peter Blakely had gone into Rox-
burghshire, to make preparations for taking
home his bride, and her father had joined
you in Edinburgh, relative to the affairs Of
| Prince Charles, in consequence Of letter
which be had received from you, and the
contents of which might not even be com
inunicated to. AT any other time, and this
lack Of confidence would have provoked
my resentment ; but my thoughts were then
of other thil gs. and | needed it not.
Catherine and | were ever together and
for hour succeeding hour we sat silent,
gazing on each other. 0 my friend, could
your Imagination conjure up our feelings
and our thoughts in this hour of trial. YOU
would start shudder, and think no more
The glance Of each was a pestilence, con.
suming each other. As the period of her
/ fathers return approached, a thousand
resolutions crowded within my bosom-some
Of magnanimity, some Of rashness. But
was coward-morally, | was coward
Though l feared not the drawn sword mol
the field of danger more than another man
yet misery compels me to confess what
was. Every hour, every moment, the
sacrifice of parting from her became very
painful. Oh, a mother might have tori
her infant from her breast, dashed it on th,
earth, tramped on its outstretched hands
and laughed at its dying screams, rathel
than that l could have lived to behold my
Catherine another's,
L. L. ohnl,