Southern standard. (McMinnville, Tenn.) 1879-current, 1885-03-14

lent contempt upon the common
herd, whose hearts were filled with
passions she could never feel.
Thus in spirit severed from human
society, she, in lonely wanderings
through forest and glade and fragrant
flower strewn meadow, learned to
hold communion with Nature, the
great handspring of the boundless
universe. BY this was strengthened
a vivid poetic imagination, which al
ways places its pOssessQr apart from
the grosser element of humanity.
There are people who seldom meet
with a kindred spirit. Such are
bound to be unhappy. The human
heart must be true to its natural i'm
pulses. 1t is formed for love, for So
ciety, for every kindred tie which
binds man to man; and lacking
these it lacks life while still in exist
ence.
Charles Moreland was more thought
fully kind to his child as she grew up.
Perhaps his he art smote him for his
past neglect; perhaps he had some
faint idea that there was a depth of
beauty in her nature not to be
sighted. He suddenly found that
while he had been thoughtless Of this
sweet wild flower, it had grown into
a blossom of rare beauty. His affec-
ton frightened May at first, but grad
ally her timidity wore off and she
became a favorite with the parent
who in his ignorance of her worth
had made her childhood unhappy.
About this time Mays mother died.
BY her death the girl missed no love
from her life, for Mrs. Moreland was
far from being what mother should
be to a child. The girl did not grieve
for her. There was nothing in COM
mon between the two-no sympathy
of soul, and consequently, by an in
evitable law of nature, little love.
Mrs. Moreland was unkind often, I'M
just and ENJOYABLE; the girl could not
love her, it was against nature and
she was not saint enough to sink ma
ture in charity. After her mothers
death Charles Moreland sent May
North to school. She had been there
: two years when telegram reached
her demanding her immediate pres
ence at home on account of her IA
theirs failing health. She started
but before she reached home Charles
MOreland was sleeping his last long
sleep, and when May knelt beside
his grave she knew she.had lost her
only friend. Her grief was deep and
lasting, yet she spoke not of it.
Robert was in Europe at the time
of his fathers death. He returned
in a short time and with him a fail
lady, his bride.
May MOreland met her brothers
| wife with warmer welcome than
l she usually extended to any one
She felt sympathy for the fair young
= girl so far from friends and home
Perhaps she thought this girl might
: like her well enough to make hel
: life less lonely. A few weeks served
= to dispell that hope, for May soor
saw that her brothers wife misunder
0 stood and disliked her. How deeply
S this sank into her heart none knew
but herself.
e Mrs. Moreland was very lovely
and laxative, very fond Of compan!
=. and very vain. Just such a woman
! as one meets everywhere, the worlC
i is full Of them.
/. Robert, like his wife, loved com
J, pany, and day after day the fine OLE
V MOreland mansion echoed with ligh
O laughter, song and jest. In this Ma,
r was forced sometimes to mingle, al
:, though she Stunned as much as pos
S sible her sisters fashionable guests
= Generally she spent the days to her
a self, riding, walking, reading, tn
d nights in waiting.
y One day Robert met on the street
o gentleman with whom he had trav
d eled in Europe. The meeting wa
+ one of mutual pleasure, and Sidne
II Weston, at Roberts earnest reques
r accompanied him home. May me
y the stranger at the dinner table sh
s proved very unentertaining on thi
a. occasion, leaving Mrs. MorelanC
|, Robert and the stranger to do mos
is of the talking, while she sat SILENT
l. by listening. After dinner she wer
Sc to her room and came down no MOI
N that day until the summons to SUI
S. per.
IN "May," said Robert, after supper