The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1872-08-08
UNLOCKING A HEART,
FROM A LADY's SCRAP BOOK.

would not be dependent upon lodging house
keepers for home. He did not hope to be
Independent of toll and fatigue; but he had
planned that he and Mary would work togeth-
er, and, perhaps, in the coming years, lind
competence upon which to enjoy healthful re-
pose Allan was a lawyer, with fair prac-
tice; and he had promised himself that when
Mary had become his wife she would help him
in his labors-not that she would delve for him
into the mysteries of law, or do the drudgery
of copying but he looked for sympathy and
loye-for a love that should make his labors
light, and for sympathy upon which ne could
Sest his confidence.
It is said that Glove is blind" )" but true love
Is not 80 blind as is often represented. Ihe
good qualities which have awakened the heart
to love are not wanting; and even the lmper-
fections were seen and noted in the outset. The
good seed was in the soil, and so were the tares
The trouble is, that love is apt to be over hope
full. It is not blind, but it looks through a
sunny glass and the future, thus viewed, pre-
sents only pleasant prospect. Love is not so
blind that it cannot see faults; but it is so
kind and forbearing that it overlooks them !;
and thus it often happens that the tares are
suffered to thrive, and finally to outgrow the
better seed.
Allan Moore had known that Mary had her
faults: but he had also known that her heart
was good and true, and in his great love he
found the assurance of peace and joy. But
season of disappointment was to come. -
They had been married three years, and a
cloud was upon che household. And whose
was the fault? Allan examined himself very
closely, but he could not discover that he had
done wrong. And yet Mary was neither happy
herself, nor did she try to make him happy.
His business had increased until he had as
much upon his hands as he could possibly at
tend to; he labored early and late; he toiled
without ceasing; hut the sympathy which he
had expected at home was not his. The result
was that he often wore cloud upon his brow.
Expecting coldness when he entered his home,
he came with compressed lips and fearing he
should find no sympathy he did not seek it.
Allan Moore wondered whether he had been
mistaken in his estimate of Mary; had he
given her credit for good that she did not pos
sess? Certainly there was little of the good
now to bless him but evil continually. In
short, his home was very far from being hap
py one, and open rupture was frequent. Mary
had become fretful and fault-fnding, and in
stead of sympathizing with her husband in his
engrossing and ofs-times perplexing business,
she would not permit him to mention his busi-
ness in the house. s
Mary was growing to have sharp features,
and the old look of beauty was disappearing.
But upon Allan the change was working with
deeper effect. He was growing thin and pale,
and there were shoots of pain and mysterious
throbbings at the heart; and the pain was
growing deeper. ;,
Why was it3 Was the good all gone, or had
-tares that might have been rooted out long
ago, if the hand of prudence and skill had
been applied? Had the heart been locked up,
and all its good hidden from the fructifying
light? If SO, why could not some kind power
unlock the closed heart, and set the blessings
free?
The good genius was at hand.
DIR. Ralph Graham, Mary's uncle, had seen
the gathering cloud, and had marked the pro-
gress of the deepening gloom. He had known
both the husband and the wife from their in
fancy, and he had loved them both and when
he saw them thus unhappy, he wondered if he
er fault was Mary's; and he knew, too, that
she yet had preponderance of good in her
heart. He knew that she had in that heart the
keenest of sympathies, the noblest of impulses,
and the fount of a true and enduring love. He
knew, because in the other years he had seen
them; and he knew that the good of the hui
man heart cannot wholly die. 1t may be
ehoked up; it may wither and shrink and it
may be crushed down beneath the superincum-
Bent weight of evil; but while the human
heart hath pulsation of life it may be probed
10 the fountain of good, and in its darkest
night it shall yield flashes of generous i'm
pulse.
DIR. Graham-or "Uncle Ralph" as Mary
called him-had been the family physician
when she was babe, and he was a man of
sense as we'll as of experience and skill. Late
ly, he had been called to prescribe for Allan,
who was troubled more and more with an un-
comfortable throboing of the heart.
I cannot tell what Uncle Ralph really
thought. He may have thought just as an
other experienced physician thought-that the
palpitation was simply the result of indiges-
ton, and that the dull pain came from pneu
nogastric sympathy; and, further, thai the
cause of the whole lay in nervous derange-
ment, consequent upon mental care and labor
But, be that as it may, he resolved that he
would make use OF Allans heart IN unlocking
the heart of the wife.
"Uncle Ralph, what do you really think Of
Allan?"
'Mary, do you want me to tell you the
truth ?' He spoke very solemnly, and with
grave look.
"The truth, uncle?" she repeated, with a
startled expression. You do not think there
Is anything serious"
"IVhat can be more serious than disease of
the heart?"
''But Allan has no such thing"
aMy dear girl, you must not deceive your
self. You may not keep Allan long with you
Excessive labor, ambition to achieve great re-
suits, and want of heathful recreation, have
strained his heart more than it will bear. 1
tell you plainly, Allan is dying
dying"
ssYesSsurely. 1t is bnt question Of time
We may save him to prolonged and useful life,
if we can remove the cause of his disease
Have you not observed how pale and thin he
has grown? and have you not marked how
often the pain comes to his heart? Alas poor
Allan! [ dare not tell him how near he is to
the brink! I spoke with him once-a few
days ago-upon the subject told him there
.sYnn told him2 And how did it affect