The Opelousas journal. [volume] (Opelousas, La.) 1868-1878, 1873-07-12

!HlIu0nce on Cn0 girl. SnG was too
honorable woman however, to pre-
tend an emotion which she did not feel.n
81 do not love you as l have always
thought woma1f should love the man
she makes her husband,n she said to her
suitOr, &" but do respect you and like
you. Your society is pleasant to me,
| and if you are content with such affec-
tlOn as can give you, that which sis
ter gives to her brother, I will marry
you"
"DO you love any one else, or have
you ever felt the sort of love you allude
to for any other man p
"Neverw replied Eleanor.
"Then [ am satisfied. | will teach
you to love me, dear Eleanor" said her
wOOer.
Great were the rejoicings in the Col
Inns family when it was announced that
Eleanor was to marry Judge Carter
To her sisters congratulations she only
replied, 81 hope I have done right"
"Right-Of course yOu have" returned
Molly but, alas! Eleanor was not sure
of this.
AS the weeks rolled on, her feelings
underwent a conscious change. Before
her engagement she enjoyed Judge
| Carter's society now she dreaded his
coming, and she shrank, at the thought
| of her approaching marriage, almost
with horror. She put aside all her
lovers plans for a speedy wedding, by
one objection after another. But the
Judge, aided by Mrs. Collins, overruled
them all.
Eleanor grew pale; she lost her APP
| petite; she could nj sleep. She limited
to her sister her desire to break the en-
| gagement, but she was met with such
| scOrnful rebukes for having allowed
her bethrothal to be made public, and
| such invectives against a selfshnesS
that would subject Judge Carter to the
modification of having been Tilted by
| her, that she burst say no more, and Mrs.
| Collins pressed forward all the prepara-
| tiOns for the marriage more rapidly
than ever. The wedding day was fixed,
and as the time sped by, the girl grew
half frantic. At last she could bear it
no longer.
Judge Carter" said she, on one of
his visits to her, "I think have done
great wrong. | ought never to have
promised to marry you, but
will not do you the great wrong of
keeping that promise, for do not love
you; and alas! i love you less and less,
instead of more and more. My very
friendship for you seems changing into
aversion. You are too good a man to
be treated in so dishOnOrable a way as
to have woman marry you who does
not love you. I, at least, will not be
that base woman. Can you forgive me
for the modification of this rupture at
the eleventh hour? Do not despise me
for my conduct toward you. Indeed, I
have meant to do right"
81 believe you, Eleanor, and so far
| from HncNTcJnp hNnn1p for
your frankness, if, indeed, it is impos-
sible for you to love me.H
| cit is," she murmured.
"Then there is no more to be said.
| We withdraw from our engagement by
mutual consent, and we will be- once
more, as we used' to be, the best of
| friends"
"You are noble man! Why can not
| love yOu?" cried Eleanor. "YOu de-
serve a wOman's whole heart, and you
will have it yet, | am sure.n
And so COllinsville lost the excite
ment of the senator elects great we'd
ding, but gained in it's stead the excite
ment of the broken engagement, and
speculations as to its cause. Great was
the surprise of all at the warm friend
ship which continued between the
severed lovers; and when, d year or two
after, Judge Carter did marry, and
Eleanor was actually a bridesmaid at
the wedding where she had once expec-
ted to take the roll of bride, Collinsville
was fairly struck dumb at the spectacle.
Eleanor is so queer" was Mrs. John
Collins Oft-repeated comment, but even
she now gave up all hopes of matrimo-
ny for her sister-in-law.
"You must be patient with me, Mol
ly," said Eleanor; I'll do what I can
not to be burden on you. Ask me
anything but to commit sin like mar
rying without love-"
'"Do you mean to say I sinned, be-
cause I married John without any of
your romantic, high-fown, story book
nOtiOns?"
"No, Molly; only speak for myself.
Peoples natures are different, and what
is right for me to do, is, perhaps, wrong
for another. Don't be angry with me,
Indeed, / mean no reflection upon you,
or upon any other person.
And SO the years went on. Eleanor
Collins lived her busy, commonplace
life in her brothers house-a life full
of petty cares, and full of bitterness
and dependence. She was by turns the
nurse, the house keeper, the factotum,
the drudge of the family. She did more
than servants work she never had
a servants wages. Had she been a ser
want, indeed, Mrs. John would have re-
garded her as invaluable, and Would
have spared neither effort nor money To
refrain her services. But since she was
"Only Eleanor" her sister in law really
thought herself very generous in giving
her a home and providing for her SUP.
port. The very clothing which she so
laboriously earned, was given to her as
if favor was conferred upon her.
Money of her own, she had none. The
cook in the kitchen was infinitely her
superior, so far as her position in the
family was concerned. She had, at
least, her regular work, fixed wages,
Eleanor had neither. Unconsciously
the old maid became to be the bond
slave of all the family, and had not
love for the children, whom she had
brought up, sweetened the service, hers
would have been a lot almost too hard
for endurance. Her nieces and me-
phews loved her, while they tyrannized
over her, and to none Of the family did
it occur that the debt or obligation was
on their side, not ON that of the old maid,
Sometimes, half jestingly, the girls
would say, Auntie, aren't you sorry
You didn't marry the senator?h
No, dear children" she would reDlv,
"society did me the injustice Of not al,
lowing me to earn my own living in
any way in which I could have done so.
I could not do the great things in the
world. / could not teach, for did not
know enough for that profession I had
not genius enough to paint, or to
model, or to write, or to sing, or to act.
I could have done some useful and
honorable work that world hove ono
bled me to support myself ;only, as So