The Princeton union., 1881-08-25

1 her IN my infancy, floats before me when I
think of you encircled with halo Of heav-
enly light which / fancy to be your attrib-
ute, and q radiance hovers round your gold
en- tresses such as gladdens our hearts in
sunshine
''Ah, Edward, it is better you u cannot see
me as am! You would not love mel
mean you would not think Of me-so
much. !"
| II could but see you for moment as
| you will look at the bail to- night, I fancy 7
would never repine again.
The ball tonight! had quite forgotten
it; wish mamma would not insist upon
my going. do not care for these things
any longer-you will be leftalone, Edward,
and that seems SO heartless and unkind"
Mary, said one Of her sisters, opening
the library door, alook at these beautiful
hot house flowers which have arrived here
for us. Come, Edward; come and see
them, too.
They were so accustomed to treat him,
as one Of themselves, and were so used to
his aptitude in many ways, and they did not
appear to remember he was blind.
The flowers were rare and beautiful, and
yet no donors name accompanied the gift.
Suddenly one of the girls cried out,
laughingly:
I have guessed, have guessed. It is
Edward! He has heard us talking about
this ball, and must have ordered them on
purpose for us. Kind, good Edwards" and
they were loud in expressions of delight:
all except Mary, who kept silently aloof.
Mary does not like fowers?' said Ed
ward, inquir1ngly, turning in the direction
where she stood. :
"No," she replied sorrowfully, "it is the
ball ! do not like, nor you thinking about
decking US for it. As if cared to 60"
Look at these levely roses," said the
Oldest sister as they were selecting what
each should wear, "would not Mary look
well with a wreath of these roses in her
hair?"
Yes, yes" exclaimed Edward, eagerly,
and let me weave it for herr You kno y,
Mary, it is one Of my ccomplishments;
you were proud of my garlands when you
were little girl. Will you trust my fingers
for the task?"
If you really wish it, if it does not
seem too trifing, yes" said Mary gently,
with troubled expression on her brow
usually so serene, as she moved SO reluc-
tantly away
But it must seem such mockerF to
yoT, poor Edward, and then, without wait
ing for reply, she hurried to her room.
and did not show herself again until the
family assembled for dinner; while Edward,
seated between the sisters, who wera in
great delight in their anticipation Of the
evenings amusements silently betook him
self of his task.
Early after dinner the large, old fashioned
drawing room at Woodlands was deserted;
the mOmentOus business of the toilet had
to be gone through, and then a drive of five
miles accomplished, before Mrs Parker
and her three fair daughters could End
themselves at the ball.
Edward was the only occupant of the
room; seated at the piano, oa which his
fingers idly strayed, he now and then STUCK
chords Of deep melancholy, or broke into
passages Of plaintive sadness
Alone, alone, alone! How the silence
of this room strikes upon my heart-how
long this evening will be without her voice,
without her footstep! And yet that is what
awaits me, what is inevitably drawing near
Next week leave the roof under which
she dwells; shall not hear her singing as
she runs down stairs in the morning;
shall not have her constantly at my side
asking me with her sweet. childlike earn
give expression to her nusic. The well
come rustic Of her dress, the MELODY of her
laugh, will soon become rare sounds to me.
Within, around, beyond, ,all is dark, hopeless.
solitary. Life stretches itself wearily be-
fore me, blind and desolate as am Moth
er, mother, we'll might your sweet spirit
shrink when you contemplated this for
your miserable son! How strange those
last words! thought Of them to day, while
I made her wreath of roses and when her
sisters told me of the numbers who flock
around her. Every flower brought its
warning and its sting"
Edward, have I not made haste? wish
ed to keep you company for little while
before we set out. You must be sad, your
playing told me you were sad, Edward.
She was standing by him in all the pride
of her youth and loveliness; her white dress
falling in cloud like drapery around her
graceful form, her sunny hair sweeping her
shoulders, and the wreath surmounting a
brow on which innocence and truth were
impressed by natures hand.
The sense of her beauty, Of an exquisite
harmony about her, was clearly perceptible
to the blind man; he reyerently touched the
flowing robe, and placed his hand upon the
howery wreath.
Will you think Of me, dearest, tonight?
You will carry with you something to re-
mind you Of me. When you are courted,
worshiped, envied, and hear on every side
praises of your beauty, give passing
GAVuS0g w A1uW0AOS NAO ACAg 4Ao AG1AC AACAP
to your adornment." !"
Edward, how can you speak so hooking
ly? You know that in saying this you rem
der me most miserable.
Miserable! With roses blooming on
your brow and hope e1ulting in your heart; t;
when life smiles so brightly on You, and
guardian angels seem to hover round your
path!'
He spoke in manner that was unusual
to him; she leaned against the piano, and,
| as if unconscious of what she was doing,
disengaged the garland from her hair.
These poor flowers have no bloom, and
this bright life Of mine. as you think it, has
no enjoyment when I think of you, sad,
alone, unhappy, returning to your desolate
home, Edward. !"
Dearest" he returned. inexpressibly
moved, do not grieve for me. Remember
my mother left her blessing there.
! Was it only for you, ,Edward3"
There was moments silence; he covers
his face with his hands, his lofty, self-de-
/ nying spirit wrestles with himself, when
| gently the wreath is laid on his knee, hel
arm is pressed around his neck, her head
/ with its glory Of golden locks is bowed up
on his breast.
"Oh, Edward, take the wreath, and with il
take myself, if ] deserve it! Tell me that you