The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1876-06-09

and form that ever clothed a human
soul. and from that spring tide morning
Aubrey Wilton was my fate She drew
her thin hand across her brow. ALI
Mrs. Mar5ury, think see him now as
he rose from the sofa TO be introduced to
Miss Childers, the young poete=s, and
almost feel again the bushes rise TO my
cheeks as ! blundered forth a disclaimer
ofthe compliments paid to me- ] was not
quite eighteen, and bore my poetic hon
ors somewhat bashfnlly. But think |
was nlcst 6verpowered by the unex pect-
ed presentation TO the beau-ideal of my
imaginative dreams There was not an
effeminate line in his face or figure, yet
Aubrey Wilton was snperlatively beau
tiful, with a skin whittier than my own
black eyes which pierced me through,
and clustering curlS a. .ietty and lustr Gus
as my own.
There was a long pause before she re-
sumed
my mother was alive then, and We
not only visited but entertained in turn;
and wherever we went, Mr.. Wilton was
sure to be there also. He had been
abroad; had come back to take posses
sion of the family estate on the death of
his eldest brother. | am afraid this
property was his charm in mothers eyes.
For myself ! absolutely worshipped the
man and valued the gold as dross-
Whether to draw me ont or make him
self agreeable, Aubrey Wilton always
led conversation with me into the en-
chanted realms of Poesy, and-lnckless
deeming il was but the avenue of love.
/ awoke one day to the knowledge in all
its strength and bitterness
Recollection seemed to overpower her;
the white head went down on the pillow.
Mrs. Barford came back; she was follow
ed by the doctor, who forbade excite
ment and a week or more elapsed before
heard the remainder of Miss Childer's
sad confession, which had many breaks
and pauses.'
Mrs Marbury,' she began, lin my
dreams last night saw nv mother, and
she beckoned to me. | mast say quick
ly what l have to reveal-but, Oh! think
not more harshly of me than you can
help"
~ said awoke from nv dream-the
shock was a rude one. Aubrey Winton
asked ME to write some verses in an alb
um he was about TO present to his be-
| trothed l was too much stunned either
to faint or scream. thinK he took my
silence for poetic cogitation. Heaven
| help mel | was feeling as if the uni
verse had collapsed. Pride lent me its
mask and l fallied sufficiently to banter
| him, and so ascertain who was the fav-
ored fair one. As we were such good
! friends;'-so he said-he showed me her
miniature 1t was painted on ivory, and
was the counterfeit presentment Of my
very antithesis-a stranger to me-a
pale-faced -wishy-washy sort of girl, and
one of those beings who are aniable be-
cause they are unable to be otherwise.
Yet ! saw by the look he cast upon the
picture, how ardently he loved that in
sipidity; and l felt as though I could
have dashed the miniature to the ground
and crushed it beneath my heel.
| "From that hour my whole nature un-
derwent a change; passion was very de-
mon in my breast and taught me subtle
ty You may we'll recoil, Mrs. Marbury;
my own mother would have SHRINK from
me had she known.
81 wrote the verses in the album; but
acquainted with my rivals parentage
and antecedents, and having practiced a
strange handwriting, prompted by the
fends that wait on jealousy, | concocted
a series Of anonymous letters, in which
truth was perverted so as TO poison
Aubrey's mind against the dainty maid
he loved, and set an impossible barrier
between them.
They were cleverly contrived asper-
sion, calculated to work on proud, i'm
petuous temperament; but they accom-
plished only half my aim. He came
raving to me--his con6dante with the
last of these missives in his hand, and
then with seeming friendliness, l put the
keystone in the arch. ! said that rumors
of the kind had reached my ears before
| knew he had any interest in Miss
Chamberlain, but ! held my peace lest
should make mischief; and then 1 grew
genuinely sympathetic, and once / saw
his flashing eyes droop az if too strong a
light had fallen on them, But if he saw
my love he made no sign. The next day
he left England, and | have never seen
him since-I, who had siAned TO win
him.
He had broken the bnnds of betroth-
al and gone abroad in the very madness
of desperation, and left the poor innoc-
ent had maligned to heal her wounded
heart as best she migbt-and me to my
despair.
From time to time / heard of him,
hut heard only of his deep, unquencha-
BILE love for the girl he was too proud TO
marry. | had separated them indeed
but I brought him no nearer me, and my
punishment began. / dared not and
could not confess and reunite the sever
ed leaders. So | wrapped the fox be-
meath my mantle and let it knaw my life
away. | was not without offers. NJ RS
MarDury, but turned a deaf ear, and
my mother died, reeretting she had left
me alone IN the world. Alone, indeed
was in no frame of mind for society
then; closed the doors against visitors
closed the doors of my heart against hu
maDity, and this room at once became a
prison and penitentiary to me. When
Aubrey Wilton had been gone five years
Marion Chamberlain accepted a less
credulous and more generous lover. She
married and bore a family, whilst IL
sat here in solitude, gray-haire'l, iso