Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1871-08-26


than realized; for Nellie Fielding, at
twenty, was more beautiful than
his fondest dreams had ever pictur-
} ed her, and as good as she was beau
tiful. She had many admirers, real,
rs true lovers, and not a few suitOrs
for her hand who had deemed her
fathers broad acres no inferior con-
: sideratiOn even with so charming an
}. encumbrance. To all she gave n
Il kind but decided refusal: and to her
father, who was in no haste TO part
with her, when he .banterGd her on
her fastidiousness, she ever gave the
same quaint answer, Il am wait
5. ing"
Among the last-mentioned class
Of suitOrs was Louis WhitfOrd,
whose father was a gentleman of re
putcd wealth, and being an old
friend Of Mr.. Fielding, the son pos
2. sessed this prior claim upon his IA
e vOr. He not only encouraged the
. young mans suit, but urged his
daughters acceptance of him with
q ! vehemcnce that surprised no less
: than il panied her. lie embraced
/ every opportunity 10 fill her ears
= with praises of his favorite, and re-
= count the advantages of union on
! which he had set his heart. She in
formed them of her betrothal to her
old playmate, and how long and pa
tiently they had loved, anG that in
one short year he was coming 10
claim her as his own. But her faith
er reproached her for wilful disobe-
dience, and her lover did not cease
to persecute her with his attentions.
She at length wrote to Fred Tru-
man of her trails, and received in re-
turn a cold COngratulatory letter,
hailing what he was pleased to term
her providential good fortune as
prOpitiOus to the happiness Of both,
inasmucE as he had recently formed
an attachment that had taught him
to look upon his bOyish fancy as an
idle dream, that could never result |
in happy union.
Poor Nelliel Fierce was the |
struggle between grief and pride, !
when she read that heartless letter |
that nearly crushed her, after all |
| those years of faithful love, that |
time and absence had served to |
strengthen, until, il had become so |
blended with her being, 50 closely |
interviewer with every fiber of her |
heart, that TO conquer it was to |
| strike the fatal blow to all her hopes /
! of earthly bliss. But pride at length |
| prodominated; and she yielded pas
| sively to the fate she no longer had
! the heart TO resist; for the love that
would have braved everything for
| him could not Withstand this wit
ness of his perfidy, and the cold
worlds sCOrn of woman's slighted |
! love; and she promised that in three
months she would give her hand to
Louis Whltford.
Her father was willing to accept
| her compliance with his wishes un-
questioned; and WhitfOrd seemed
to eXult in the happy progress of
| his wOOing as the result of his own |
irresistible powers. Her fathers
manner resumed more than its
wonted tenderness; but had she
been less absorbed in the silent
hOpelessness of her own sorrow,
Nellie must have seen that he strug-
gled with secret grief, that even the
contemplation OF her eligible pros
poets was not patent to relieve. His
financial affairs had become deeply
involved, and circumstances sudden
ly terminated a crisis he was no
longer able to avert.
The calamity against which he
had so brayely striven now burst up
on him, and the worst that he had
feared was true-the estate must be
sacrificed to meet his creditors de-
mands. And though his daughters
marriage with Whitford was to Sc
cure her from the humiliation of the
impending blow, yet it was very
hard for him, that carewOrn old
man, now N the winter of his days,
to leave the home of his youth,
where his parents had lived and
died, and whose dearest associations
were sacred to the memory of his
transient welded love, and where
he and his child had so long abode.
He was sitting alone, busy with
thoughts like these, when n servant
entered, handing him a letter. He
mechanically broke the seal; but the
words that met his eye were calcula-
ted to arrest his attention and add
fresh torture to his soul, while they
CALLED his proud nature with hu-
initiation as bitter as it was uneX-
pected. 1t was nothing less than a
letter from Louis WhitfOrd, express
ing his regrets that, much as he had
admired Miss Fielding, it would not
be compatible with existing circum-
stances to cOnsummate a union that
would not, he felt assured, be a
/
perceptions, and he would accord
ingly withdraw all furher claims to
her consideration. This from the
man to whom he had so eagerly en-
trusted the future of his child, and
he now dared to offer her so gross
an insult as thus boldly to imply the
nature of his former profession,
which had no deeper foundation
than mere merCCnary motives. He
felt sufficiently punished for his own
mistaken sOicitude for her pros
perity in urging her to renounce the
lover of her early years for wretch
who could desert her in the hour of
need; for he knew not of the fatal
letter that alone had power to
swerve her fidelity to her only love.
As for Nellie, any natural mOrtifica-
ton her pride might undergo was
lost in the stronger feeling OF relief
that the farce was endeed and the no.
liet relations no longer to be made
mockery. She felt that she had |
rather toll for her daily bread than
become the wife of a man who was
incapable of love that would not
promote his interest.
1t was just eight years since Fred |
and Nellie parted beneath the branch |
Is O1 III L Cilt-S iIul-- tlllNAs dCNOAh4llS ~ |
the placards on the walls, the grand
old homestead would, in two days |
more, come under the hammer of the |
auctioneer. Nellie walked about | ;
the house with a weary, detected |
air sadly unlike her former self. In ,
her own room she fingered by the
window that looked out upon the
village, from which she had so often !
watched for Fred in the olden days, |
and where She always sat to peruSe ,
and answer the'Once precious letters
that had lain untouched in a secret |
corner of her esCritOire since that |
last cruel message had come to her. ;
All, she could not bear to think of
that; and now she passed down the |
stairs and through the broad hall to |
the MUSHROOM, where stood the !
grand piano from whose sweet in
spiration she had drawn the magic
of many a happy hour; and that, too,
must go with all the richly-carved
furniture, to save her fathers name
from dishOnOr.
She could not play now, she was
in no mood for music; and the
thOugts that crowded so thickly
upon her seemed almost sufTocating
her, and passing out into the open
air, she walked TO the old seat be-
meath the trees; and there, rehe ars-
ing all the bitterness since that hour
when fell the first great drop into
her cup Of sorrow, whose brimming
contents She was now DRAINING tho |