The Morning herald., 1876-09-02

of working : purss II Philip, IN acknowI-
edgsmsnt 81 ! lockss he had latsly sent her
from London, Generally speaking, Emily
Wa not very fond Of work, but somehow
or other no occupation, not even the peru-
sal Of favorite poem or novel, had ever
afforded her half the pleasure that she
derived from the manufacture Of this purse.
Each stitch she netted, each bead she
strung, was a new source of delight-for
she was working for Philip. Love is the
true magic Of life, efecting more strange
metamorp phoses than ever did the spells of
Archimago, or the arts Of Armida-the
moral alchemy which can transmute tie
basest things into the most precious. It's
true Of all circumstances, as we'll as OF per-
sonal qualities, that 4s ~
"Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity"
The purse was quickly finished, and
despatched to Philip, together with letter.
Emily was in high spirits at the prospect
of an answer. She danced about the
house singing snatches Of songs and ballads
and displaying an unusual amount Of
gayety; for, though generally cheerful, she
was Of too Thoughtful q disposition to be
often merry. Philip, she was sure, would
write by return of post. How she wished
the time were come She knew pretty
we'll, to be sure, what he would say but
what did that signify? She longed to
feast her eyes on the words his hand had
traced, and To fancy the tones and the looks
which would have accompanied them had
they been spoken instead Of written. The
expected day came at last, but the post
bag contained no letter for Emily. At
first she could hardly believe it: he coun-
tenance fell, and for few minutes she
seemed much disappointed but never
mind, the letter would come tomorrow,
and she soon began to trip about and to
sing almost as gayly as before. But
another day passed, end another, and
another, and still no letter! Poor Emily's
blithe voice was muts now, and her light
step rarely heard. Sometimes she tried to
read, or to play ON the piano. but without
much success while her anxious look, and
the tear which occasionally might be seen
to glisten in her eye, betrayed the trouble
within. A whole week elapsed, a longer
period than had ever passed before without
a letter from Philip Hayforth-a fortnight
"a month-and the poor girRs'nppelite
failed, her nights We're sleeplass, and her
dropping figure and pining looks told of
that anxious entering, that weary, life
gnawing suspense, which is ten times more
hard to bear than any evil, however great,
of which we can ascertain the nature and
discern the limits. Could Philip be i'll?
Could he--- No, he could not be incon-
stant. Ought she 10 write to him again ?
But to this question her parents answered
"No. Itwould be unfeminine ,unladylike,
undignifed. If Mr.. Hayforth were i'll, he
would doubtless write as soon as he was
able: and if he were we'll, his conduct was
inexcusable, and on Emily's part rendered
any advance impossible" Poor Emily
shrank from transgressing what her
parents represented as the limits due to
delicacy and decorum, and she would have
died rather than have been guilty OF a real
improperly, or have appeared unfeminine
in the eyes Of Phillip Hayforth and yet
it did often suggest itself to her mind
rather, however, in the shape Of an unde-
fined feeling than Of a conscious thought
that TIE shortest, best, most straightfor-
ward way of proceeding, was to write at
once to Mr.. Hayforth, and ask an explana-
tfon. She could not herself see clearly
how this could be wrong; but she sup.
posed it must be so, and she acknowledged
her own ignorance and inexperience.
Emily was scarcely twenty: just at the age
when an inquiring and thoughtful mind
can no longer rely with the unquestioning
faith of childhood on assertions sanctioned
merely by authority, and when diffidend
one is too timid to venture to trust to Its
own suggestion.
[ro BE CONTINUED.