The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1850-1873, 1873-04-25
you ever felt the sort of love you aIIude
10 for any other man?"

| linen am satisfied. L Will teach
you to love me, dear Eleanor" said her
| wooer.
Great were the rejoicinrs in the Col
| Inns family when / was announced that
Eleanor. was to marry Judge Carter.
To her sisters congratulations she only
replied, /" hope have done right"
" Right-of course you have" re-
turned Molly; but, alas, Eleanor was
not so sure of this.
| As the days passed on, her feelings
underwent curious change. Before
her engagement, she enjoyed Judge
| Carter's society; now she dreaded his
coming, and she shrank from 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, over
ruled them all.
Eleanor grew pale she lost her ap-
| petite she could not sleep. She limited
to her sister her desire to break the en-
gagement, but she was met with such
scOrnful rebukes for having allowed the
| bethrothal to be made public, and such
| invectives against a selfishness that
would subject Judge Carter to the NOR
t1tication of having been Tilted by her,
that she dared say no more, and Mrs.
| Collins pressed forward all the prepar-
ations 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" she said, on one of
his visits to her, 81 think I have done
great wrong. 1 ought never to have
| promised to marry you, but I will not
! do you the greater wrong of keeping
that promise; for I do not love YOU,
and alas, / love you less and less, in
| stead of more and more. NV 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, 1
had meant to do right" ....
" I believe you, Eleanor, and so far
from despising you, honor you for
your frankness, if, indeed, it is impossi-
bic for you to love me-"
1T 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 cannot l
love you p cried Eleanor. ''You de-
serve womans whole heart, and YOU
will have it yet, am sure"
And so Collinsville lost the excite
| ment of the senator-elect's great we'd
ding, but gained in its stead the excite
ment of the broken engagement, and of
| speculations as TO It's cause. Great was
the surprise of all at the warm friend
! ship which continued between the sew
cred lovers and when, a year or two
after, Judge Carter did marry, and
Eleanor was actually bridesmaid at
the wedding, where she had once been
expected to take the role of bride, Col
hnsville was fairl y struck dumb at the
spectacle.
Eleanor is so queerP' was Mrs.
John COllins's oft repeated comment,
but even she now gave up all hopes of
matrimony for her sister-in-law.
You must be patient with me,
Molly" said Eleanor; "I'Il do what I
can not to be burden upon you. Ask
me anything but to commit sin, like
marrying without love"
"Do you mean to say that l sinned,
because l 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
Fo ha
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 the bitterness
of dependence. She was by turns the
nurse, the housekeeper, the factotum,
the drudge of the family. She did
more than a servants work she never
had a servants wages. Had she been a
servant indeed, Mrs. John would have
regarded her as most invaluable, and
would have spared neither effort nor
money to retain her services. But, since
she was "only Eleanor" her sister-in-
law really thought herself very gener-
Gus in giving her a home, and providing
| for her support. The very clothing,
which she so laboriously earned, was
given to her as if a favor was conferred
upon her. Money of her own, she had
literally 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, and some time she could
call her own. Eleanor had neither.
Unconsciously the old maid came to be
the bond slave of all the Fl, nily, and
had not love for the chil,ll n, whom
she had brought up, sweeten i the ser
vice, hers would have been lot almost
too hard for endurance. Her nieces
and nephews loved her, while they
tyrannized over her, and to none of the
family did it occur that the debt of OBJ
legation was on their side, not that of
the old maid aunt.
Sometimes, half-jestirgly, the girls
would say, "Auntie, aren't you sorry
you didn't marry the senator ?"
"No, dear children" she would re-
ply, "Society did me the injustice of
not allowing me to earn my own living
in any way in which could have done
so. 1 could not do the things in this
world. I could not teach, for I did not
know enough for that profession had
not genius enough to print, or to model,
or to write, or to sing, or to act. 1 could
have done some useful and humble
work that would have enabled me to
support myself, only, as society is now
arranged, should have lost caste by
the attempt. I could have been good
miIliner or dressmaker, but you
wouldn't have liked to have your aunt
engaged in one of these occupations,
you know, though I'm sure I could
have been successful in either. Society
has been hard on me, but I'm glad /
didn't revenge myself on the conven-
tionalities that fettered me, by doing
the injustice to any man of marrying
hlm when I didn't love him. Dear
children, it's an awful thing to do, both
for yourselves and the man you marry
and it will be good thing for all con-
cerned, when you girls are brought up
like your brothers, to earn your own
living, and to marry-not for home
but for love. That good time is COM
ing, my darlings, though 1 may not
live to see it.
SIS it, Aunt Elsanor?" asked her
nieces, laughingly.
EGTc II iDJaad Q Uvbo o,,, fallO