Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1881-02-09
Written for the Waterman and journal
The Story OF q Heart.

by LAURA BRIGHAM BoroE.
As l was walking up the street to-day I
met two young ladies not yet out of their
teens conversing together on the sidewalk
As passed them l heard the elder, who
was evidently not resident of Woodville,
ask her companion, d" Who is that interest
ing looking lady who has just passed up the
street 2"
Involuntary paused to catch the an
swer, which was given in louder tone Of
voice than the questioner had used.
go, that is only the old maid Miss Bron-
son, who lives in the pretty cottage just be-
yond the village. She looks plain and COM
monplace enough | am sure, though | be-
lieve there is some romance connected with
her history that have heard Aunt Niilly tell
about, but, really, I've quite forgotten it
all. o dear hope shall never be an old
maid |"
"Only that old maid" l kept repeating
to myself over and over, as walked slowly
up the dusty street to my home where my
little pets, Everond and EtIie, met me in the
hall and almost smothered "auntie" with
their spasmodic hugging and kissing.
even an old maid is something to you,
my pets" | said to myself but the thought
less words had torn open an old wound still
unhealed, and it bled afresh, though the in
nocent prattle of the children helped me to
retain my accustomed composure of manner
through the afternoon; but when, in the
early twilight, they went to sleep with the
birds, and Hetty, my one old servant who
had taken care of me as baby and always
chung to me, sought her room early, sat
down in the stiffness of my own room and
let the bitter feelings that surged through
my heart have sway for a season. If that
young girl had witnessed the tempest raised
by her thoughtless words in a breast long
schooled to quiet submission, l think it
might have taught her to be more careful
in her choice of topics for street CONVEX
sation.
"Yes, it is true, l suppose I am an old
maid" said to myself, as l scanned my
features in the mirror. The shadow reflected
back was not a fattering one. l had never
been beauty, and the soft halo that early
womanhood throws around the plainest fea-
lures was faded now, and thin, pale face,
whose only redeeming features were the dark,
shadow-haunted eyes, that many tears and
night vigils had not yet dimmed, was what
the faithful mirror reflected back to my
gaze. l wonder if there is any real disgrace
attached to the name of an old maid that
girls all shun it as they would contagious
disease? The great end and aim of their
existence appears to be to marry; to marry
the one they love if they can, but at any
rate to marry somebody. o, the shameless
traffic that is carried on in human souls /
when young girls stand up at the altar and
barter themselves away for money, position,
and sometimes for the mere privilege of
calling themselves Mrs. Somebody. To me
there is no abomination of desolation like a
loveless marriage. If l had married the
heavy purse and empty head that was offered
me five years ago, might have to-day been
rolling in luxurious carriage, and over
Mrs. Goldfnch by that young miss who
embellished her notice of 81 that old maid "
with contemptuous toss of the head. A
little of the bitterness of the soul was washed
away in the tears that trickled down my
thin cheeks while my thoughts went running
back over the memories of other years, that
had resolutely buried down deep in my
heart, and trusted that time should seal
the sepulchre beyond the power of earthly
resurrection. But all of the old dreams and
memories are out of the grave tonight, ant
for this one night they shall rule me al
they will.
Iopen cabinet of curious workmanship, {
gift of my father, which holds the choices
treasures that l own. do not often permi
myself to open it, but tonight shall be giver
to the past. | open this ebony box, anc
there lies sunny curl Of soft brown hair
an old-fashioned gold ring, delicately chased
with the initials NJ. b. on the inside, and
miniature set in circlet of pearls; pal
of dark, dreamy eyes, something like m,
own, but younger and fairer, oh much faire
face than mine, looks lovingly on me frou
the oval frame. 1t is my own angel mother
who died when l was but five years ole
The tears that fall over these precious keeT
sakes are not tears of bitterness, but softer
ing, soothing tears that ease my achin
heart. l open small drawer and take Their,
from locket, wherein | see two pictures,
young maiden, fair and fragile looking as
snow wreath, beautiful as a poets dream
and opposite, man apparently many yeal
her senior, with grave, handsome face an
intellectual brow. 90 Mabel my fai
young sister, too fair to die 30 early, BIT
"He giveth his beloved sleep" The bite
ness is all gone from heart now, as the teal
fall like rain over the face of this beautifl
Undine, who died 80 early, but not till 81
had gained her soul.
But let me go back and recall my earliet
recollections. | remember my fair youn
mother, and how intensely loved her,
deeply that her death, when | was but Fl,
years old, Swallowed all my after life.
chung to her, determined that not even Il
grave should hold her from me, but deaf
was stronger than l. My father, a gray
silent man, but very kind and affectio
ate TO me, was almost my only companic
except my nurse Kitty knew and sougl
no other. j think now that my father d
not act wisely in his care of me. | shou
have had young companions and child,
amusements to have won me from my grit
but he brooded dreamily over his loss and
suited his mood that | should share b
grief. He did not consider the misfortune
is to child to be robbed of its childhoo
and the morbid and unnatural grief that
cherished marred my childhood and mark
my whole after life with tinge of sadne
Gradually, as the years went on, my faith
emerged from the shadows, and when "
ten he brought home fair young wife
cheer our solitude | did not resent
oming, as might have been expected fro
the morbid affection with which | still
gsrded my own mothers memory. Nv
strangely attracted to the fair. delio,
young creature who seemed fitted only
love and to be loved, so like clineine vi
ready to Irvine its tendris around anytbi
that could support 1t. | think it was [