The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1878-02-08

hc "uiteu iintll ner passionate grief
had spent itself; then he approached
her, and parting aside her curls, kissed
her lovingly on her wet cheek. He
drew her to chair near him, and said
with emotion thrilling in his tones:
"My child, let me tell you the history
OF mans life and woman's death
and then answer me, if do any wrong
i'll crying out from the very depth OF
my heart, MY Father in heaven, save
my child, my precious child, from the
doom of the drunkard's wife,
Alice Carington looked with wonder
ing eyes at her father; she had never
seen him 50 deeply moved, aud there
was tone of agonized pathos in his
voice that told ofsome hidden woe.
The rector of Rivington leaned back
in his armchair and closed his eyes
for a moment, as if looking inwardly.
His face was pale, and it evidently cost
him a painful effort to unearth the sad
story that had been buried 80 long.
AT length, opening his eyes and fixing
them on the fire with that peculiar gaze
which we sometimes see in the eyes OF
those who are exploring the dim rcces-
ses of the past, the rector commenced,
in low, earnest tones, his story, while
his daughter fixed her mournful ewes
on her father as he thus spake:
"Clarence Midway was the son of an
English gentleman, man of wealth,
culture and refinement. lie gave his
children every advantage which money
could bestow, and his daughters and
his sons, with ono exception, grew ur
all that the most loving parents could
wish. But this one, this boy Clarence
was wild, dissipated fellow, plungine
into shameful eXcesses, and wasting
the precious hours of youth in the
haunts of folly and the homes of crime
He gave his parents many an anxious
hour, as such boys always do; fortu.
nate, most fortunate was it for them
that they slept the quiet sleep of the
grave before this boy, dishonersd and
degraded, brought untold misery TO the
hearts that loved him."
The rector's voice trembled Will
emotion, but recovering himself, he
continued:
"Thls boy, tenderly beloved by hi:
parents, and who had been 80 carefully
reared, grew worse and worse; and
when he reached mans estate, he was q
confirmed drunkard.
'There lived on the next place tC
Medway Manor lovely girl, named
Alice Richmond, whom Clarence Med
way loved. She was young, younger
by year than you, my daughter, fol-
she was only seventeen. She was 8
sweet, dove-like girl, gentle and Low.
ing, the idol of her parents and friends
and rich in every blessing that made
life desirable. There never had been {
sorrow OH her heart; and no mino,
note walled through the songs she
sung. Oh, that so fair life should
have been 80 cruelty blasted, d,-blasted
too, by the man to whom she had given
the priceless gift of her young aficc.
tions.
"Clarence Medway sought her il
marriage. He hid from her his bod,
and soul-destroying vice; she knew
not that the man who breathed passion.
ate love-vows in her ears, was al
habitual drunkard. She had hearC
him called "wild," and in her girlist
fondness, her girlish Ignorance, she
thought she could tame him down, anc
make him quiet, sober, domestic hus
band. Her parents, however, knew
that she was about TO peril her happi
ness, and expostulated with her, my
daughter, even rs [ have expostulatec
with you. But she could not see tht
great, black, frowning rock standing
out in what seemed smiling sea; she
knew not how, on that rock, the rocL
of intemperance, her ftirest hope,
would suffer cruel shipwreck. Will,
the parents were eXpostulating, thC
lover was urging, and, one storm,
night, Alice Richmond, taking her des.
tiny in her own hands, stole forth from
her happy home and married Clarence
Medway."
The rector of Riyinston arose from
his seat and hastily paced the floor
He stopped in front of his daughter,
who was watching him with sad, aux,
ious gaze, and said,
''There are some memories which sit
like hideous Nightmares upon the heart
and that we can only bear by Gods
help; such is the memory of what | ar
now telling you"
Again he took his seat. 1t was evi.
dent that nothing but an overmasterine
sense Of duty made the father confldc
this story TO his daughters keeping.
swell, they were married, this
happy young girl and this drunken
young man. The fatal step was taken
taken by her with love and faith sing
ing sweet songs in her trusting heart
II took her some time to discover what
an error she had made; how she had
buried every joy; how she now stood
on the desolate shores of sad reality,
far away from the peaceful pleasures OF
the old home that she had forsaken.
What she suffered as the hideous
knowledge broke upon her, none save
herself could tell. Still she loved, and
trusted, and hoped, and prayed; but
the dark clouds grew more lowering,
the more deeply her husband drank.
"Onc year passed by; year of mis-
cry to the irunkard's youns wife, and
sweet child came to gladden. her
heart. Then came, when this babe
was only fow months old, Il scene so
terrible that can scarcely tell IL to
you. For weeks, Clarence Medway
had drank deeply, until, reason leaving
Its throne, he grew mad, yes, mad as
any lunatic chained in Bedlam. Ray
ing and dangerous, his brain on fire
with tho accursed stuff ho' had been
drinking, he was carried home from a
low den to the young wife whose life he
had made miserable. For days, that
devoted wife lowered over his bed
shocked at his situation, crushed to the
very earth by grief, she yet clung to
the frantic maniac TO whom she was
chained by matrimony. He did not
recognize her as she bent over him; he
did not know who II was that looked
into his wild eyes with pity but not
with fear. For days and nights that
loving woman watched and wept,--
wept rs she heard the madmans raw
ings, and saw his fingers point to imag-
mary spiders which his distempered
fancy saw ON the wall.
"One night, when the watchers, all
save one, the loving wife, had with
drawn for a few moments into dis
tant room, Clarence Medway ieaped
from the bed, and seizing loaded gun,
which stood unobserged In closet, level.
ed il at his wife and shot her dead-dead.