The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1870-03-11

low wail-the sound Of which fell mourn
fully on the heart, like the last wind sigh
of the dying eve.
"He did not speak OF returning to
America" said Rudolph, hesitatingly;
'''Aunt Nannerl said, he spoke of joining
them at Baden-Baden, sometime during
the summer. as Mr.. Lyle was there"
Rudolph, would never forgive you,
or any one, who would write him line
on my account-who would mention me
in any way to him. Since he is silent,
choose to lie silent. also. have written
him letter after letter, and not line in
return. 1 am q woman and loving wo-
man, but I'm not destitute of womanly
pride. wish you to understand, 1 am
not mendicant. begging for his love-
This experiment did infinitely moro
mischief than good. In the afternoon,
low fever came on, which made her SO
wretchedly nervous and hysterical, Mr..
Clayburn thought she would go off into
q spasm every moment. He sent for the
doctor to come over and pass the night
On the next afternoon, however, Mrs.
Thurlow was ingenious enough to devise
plan, which succeeded beyond their
most sanguine expectations. Entering
the room in slow, wearied way. pro-
foundly mournful expression on her
countenance, she sighed heavily, and
took seat at the sick girls side. AS
usual, her couch was drawn up near the
window, and Juliet. enveloped in deep
thought, was looking out. She was
watching the leaves fail to the ground.
in the Autumn forest. glory-robed and
gorgeous in color, each leaf gem, each
surging wind scattering rich Jewels to
the earth. For long time, so deep was
the sick girls abstraction, she showed no
knowledge whatever of her aunt's pre-
sence. Mrs. Thurlow continued to sigh
heavily, to press her head, to wiring her
hands convulsively, and place them OH
her heart, giving every evidence of deep
suffering and distress. These indica-
tions were finally successful in attract
ing Jnliets attention. Once, when Mrs.
Thurlow uttered n heart-rending
ooh, dear! what shall do?" her face
lost some of its strong impenetrable
gloom, and she said:
''What is the matter, dear aunt?"
'What is the matter?" reiterated Mrs.
Thurlow. "Why. am sick; yes, lite
rally sick with distress about Brother
Joseph-your poor father"
My father" exclaimed Juliet, raising
herself up and turning her eyes full on
Mrs. Thurlow--thoso sweet violet eyes,
the dropping, silken lashes trembling
with the secret weight of unshcd woe!
Once they were blue Eden-isles of
beauty and Joy! How changedl Now
they looked like dark wells OF despair,
dug deep down in melancholy caverns of
remorse.
''Is anything the matter with my
father, aunt?"
''Alas! Juliet. that 1 should live to see
you 80 wrapped up in your own selfish
grief as to be oblivious of your father.
Are you blind? Havo You so soon for
gotten the sacred words you uttered on
your knees, to your dying mother2 He
is sinking every day-rapidly nearing
the grave, where he will soon quietly rest
beside his lost wife,"
"Father of mercy!" cried Juliet, fran
tically springing upright. "Can nothing
be dono that my father may be spared to
me?"
There's great deal can be done. I"
answered Mrs Thurlow; "of course there
is; but you are tho only one can do it.
You should take great reproach to your
self, Juliet, for tho WY you have treated
your father.
"Oh, aunt! nunt" cried the poor
S''j OIL wan )Ct, pc IueICllul 10 me.
No one could suffer more keenly, could
feel moro poignant remorse for past con-
duct, than myself. But for fathers sake,
L would rather die than live over again
the last few months. I am willing to
mako all reparntion in my power. 1
have told father would write to Ka-
MIR. Won Oppenheim and break off my
engagement-in fact, his own neglect
leaves me no choice; for his conduct
shows unmistakable proof that he de-
sres release, and ia snot-not-honora
BILE and open enough to ask for one. 1
will then marry Frank, if, knowing all
things, he is willing to- make me his
wife. He has acted kindly and nobly
through it all, and would do my best
to make him good wife,
'There is something incomprehensi.
bic in Karl's conduct" said Mrs. Thur
low, thoughtfulIy; II cannot believe
that he has forgotten You. Heloved you
SO we'll. Alb! well-a-day, it is sad but
true
the shallowest streams have loudest song,
h<,ot