Urbana union. [volume] (Urbana, Ohio) 1862-1872, 1871-06-28
Romance.
Miriam.
pY Mrs. JULIA c. r. ponE.

BY Mrs. JULIA c. Rs DOIiR.
The shaded lamp was turned low un-
i'll the room was filled only with a soft
radiance almost like moonlight. The
windows were open, and the muslin
curtains fluttered gently to and fro in
the scented airs that stole up from my
lilies and heIiotropes and viOlets in the
garden below. Miriam half sat, half re-
clined, in a high-backed crimson chair,
against which her magnificent hair of
paIy gold cleaned in the tender light.
do not know what she wore-sOme
diaphauOus tissue woven Of mist and
sunbeams, think; but it was worn with
a careless ease and grace that made it
seem a part Of herself
Walter sat in a corner of the sofa near
her, and their talk wandered back TO
his fathers house, and the days when
ehey were children together. Her words
viviied and glori6ed whatever they
touched; and their past, warmed into
life Jy her breath, seemed as beautiful
as a dream. The present psled before
it.
/ withdrew TO q table in far corner
s,f the room, and seemed TO busy my
self with the last paper. Do not think
that they purpOsely overlooked me, or
ignored my presence. But they talked
ofpersOns and things Of which / knew
nothing, and so--foolishly, perhaps-I
glided away from them.
But I could not read. Gradually the
current Of talk drifted rOund-tO AIirism's
life abroad. How she glOwed and spark
led then! How like a leaf torn from
some old romance seemed the story Of
her sojournings in Venice, in Florence,
in Rome, in Dresden, in Paris, in Ber-
lin! Her great violet eyes kindled and
their light deepened and darkened as
she spoke of the old cathedrals, the
stOried castles, the art and architecture
which it had been the dream of my life
to see, but which l probably never
should see until this mortal had put on
immortality, and my disembOdied spirit
should be free TO wander at will.
Walter hung on her words, her looks,
as one enchanted. did not wonder at
it; could not blame him. But ah! how
it hurt me!
stole softly out of the room and up
stairs to my chamber, while they were
wrapped in some dream of Michael An
gelo or Raphal. Taking lamp, walk
ed straight to the large mirror that
Overhung my dressing-table Walter
had been wont to call me his gypsy
oueen-his brOwn-eyed fairy, and the
like. had been praised, sometimes
for a certain dark, oriental beauty; and
I had been glad for his sake. But was
little and brown, with small, irregular
features. I needed the cosmetic of joy;
and tonight there was no color in my
cheeks, no luster in my eyes. 1 looked
old and worn and faded; and that wO-
man down stairs, with her eloquent
words, her witching glances, her peer
less beauty, was weaving her old spells
about my husband, aud Turing his heart
away from me.
If looked old then, Imust have been
a perfect Methuselah-oT Whatever the
feminine Of that venerable name may
be-before the first Of September. Mi
riam Delamater's presence chafed and
harassed me beyond measure There
was nothing in her sayings or dOings
that could deliberately, and in the
broad, clear light Of common sense,
quarrel with. She and my husband
met upon the frank, free footing Of old
friends. Surely had no right to find
fault with that And it was not her
fault that she was fairer, calnner, strong
er aud mere self-poised than /. she
was not 10 blame that the wondrOus
charm of her voice, her face, her man.
ner was so potent; or that her grace,
her quiet self-pOssession, her rare con.
versatiOnRl powers oppressed me with
a vague, yet painful sense Of inferiOrity
and made nae silent and constrained il
her presence. 1t was only that ! wa.
weak and childish, Incapable of sustain