Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1870-04-22
General Literature.
.u.rRCI.E EKE.rTEFSO.N.


I stood at the window watching the sun
light creeping up the Virginia hill on the
farther side of the river which marks the
dividing line between the States-the line,
too, of the irrepressible conflict ages ago,
if we measure time by deeds and as I
watched the scarlet leaves aflame in their
October glory, thought of a short, quick
romance that had flashed into the lives OF
those who had lived in this house in days
gone by,-a romance and Il tragedy as won
drous to me as any story had read in the
iar-away time when the whole world was
wonderland.
Theold Quaker homestead, with its great
| quaint wings and encircling porches is
homely enough. The yard is merely q
square enclosure, ending in large vegeta-
bic garden at the back. This garden is di-
vided by walk running is entire length,
and bordered on either side with wide
straight flower beds, where May pinks,
sweet williams, larkspurs, and bright sun
| ny-iaced johnny -jumpups, grow in lavish
| abundance. The old barn, like the house,
was built by installments, and is a RAM
for cattle and horses on stormy days before
the winter housing. All the beauty of the
place, aside from its peaceful homcliness,
lies in the lovely outlook upon the Virgin
in hills, stretching in the blue hazy distance
on and on to the mountain ranges. In the
morning the outline of the river can be
traced by the line of mist lowering above
it, though the stream itself is hidden from
the eye.
Many times before knew anything but
the hushed ruuor that there was n story
connected In the old house, where /
came every summer, begged Aunt Lucy,
who was spectator in the drama, TO tell
me the story; but she had always kept it
as promise for tho future. This day we
were alone; and I, a little weary of the un-
accustomed seclusion would not be put of.
So, seating herself in the old rocking chair,
with her unfailing knitting work, she told
the story much as I give it now:
"Thee romen bers John Heathson, doesn't
thee, Lucy?"
"Yes, Auntie; and remember how cold
and hard he seemed. II chilled mo when
he spoke to me-"
"That was fancy, maybe. But he was
4 cold, stern man-one who talked great
deal in meeting about the justice of God,
but never OF His mercy. He was rigidy
Just, but never merciful. His wife, whom
thee never saw, was as loving and meek as
he was hard and stern; a sweet, gentle lit
tie woman with subdued, quiet nature,
seemingly without moods or strong cur
rents. She always reminded me of pale
wintry flower standing in the shadow of n
cold gray rocS.
James and Edmond were much like
their iather-keen at n bargain, but hard
and relentless toward every shorteoming
in others. When the boys were almost
young men, Marcia was born-a new ele-
ment in the family, foreign to them all
bright, winsome and gay, but self-willed
and impetuous, rushing from one extrava-
gance of fancy to another. Her father could
neither understand or control her. She
was like some glowing tropical bird in
sober northern atmosphere. 1 think Mar
cia always felt this, in a vague way. She
never seemed to assmilate herself to her
surroundings. She was sent to boarding
school at fifteen to see if the discipline of
the straightest sect would not tame what
her father called her mad spirits. pitied
her, for my folks were not so strict, and
did not believe any good came out of this
stern boarding school rule. Marcia re-
mained two years at school, as vigorously
secluded and repressed as though she wero
within convent walls; her fresh gayety
checked as breach of order; every ex-
preston criticised and measured by a line
and rule that fretted her continually.
The day of her release came at last
il 1t could be called release to exchange the
surveillance of the boarding-school for the
harsher rule of her father. But Marcia
only saw the bright side, and sighed for
the liberty of long rambes over hill and
down dale,-for the old close life with all
growing and living things that had made
up so large portion of her childhood
was here the day she came home, and
never saw so joyous person. All her IA
ther's grimness, or the sneers of Edmond
who prided himself on being woman
hater, could not keep her in check. She
caught her mother up in her arms, and
danced round the room, and sang before
her father. | was ayhast at her daring /
was not usually cowardly, but was afraid
of John Heathson, and l trembled for what
might follow. He looked his disapproval !;
but she had been absent two years, and for
the first time | ever saw him manifest it,
there was little fatherly feeling upper-
most, and he did not want TO rebuke his
only daughter on the fir night of her
coming home"
"What was Marcia Heathson like, Aun-
tyr" asked ~ have heard she was very
beautiful"
'She was beautiful, and the more attrac-
tive to all because her beauty was of a
style foreign to the element we grew up in.
She had tall, fine figure, with grace and
elegance of movement that did not CORE
Sond with our simple Quaker dress; dark
eyes. and curling hair of a dusty brown; !;
] an oriental complexion, warm and glow