The weekly times. (Wilmington, Del.) 1886-18??, 1886-10-23
LOVE AND DUTY.


mother, as she glided gently in, to
give her silent, goodnight blessing.
The bright flush of youth, and hope
was ON her cheek. Her long dark
hair lay in masses about her neck
and shoulders smile played upon
the red lips, and the mother bent
low to catch the indistinct murmur.
She starts at the whispered name,
as if serpent had stung her; and
as the little snowy hand is tossed
restlessly upon the coverlid, she
sees, glittering in the moonbeams,
ON that childish finger, the golden
signet of betrothal. Reproachfully
she asked herself: elbow could l
have been so blind? (but then Ellie
has seemed to me only Il child y
But he oh, no; the wine-cup will be
my child's rival; it must not be-
Effie was wilful, and Mrs. May
knew she must be cautiously dealt
with but she knew, also, that no
mother need despair, who possesses
the affection of her child.
Eflie's violet eyes opened to greet
the first ray OF the morning sun, as
he peeped into her room. She stood
at the little mirror, gathering up,
with those, small hands, the rich
dresses so impatient of confinement.
How could she fail to knCw that she
was fair?-she read it in every face
she met but there was one (and she
was fastening to meet him) whose
eye had noted, with lovers pride,
every shining ringlet, and azure
vein, and fitting blush; his words
were soft and low, and skillfully
chosen, and sweeter than music to
her ear and so she tied, with Il care
less grace, the little straw hat under
her dimpled chin i; and fresh, and
sweet, and guiless, as the daisy that
bent beneath her foot, she tripped
lightly on to the old trysting place
by the willows.
Stay hand is laid lightly upon
her arm, and the pleading voice of
mother arrests that sprnging step.
'Eflie dear, sit down with me ON
this old garden seat give up your
walk for this morning; ] slept but
indifferently last night, and morning
finds me languid and depressed"
A shadow passed over EAie's
face; the little cherry lips pouted,
and a rebellous feeling was busy at
her heart but one look in her
mothers pale face decided it, and,
untying the strings Of her hat, she
leaned her head caressingly upon
her mothers shoulder.
"You are i'll, dear mother; you
are troubled !" and she looked in
quiringly up into her face.
"Listen to me, Ellie, | have a
story to tell you Of myself: When
was about your age, l formed an
acquaintance with ayoung man, by
the name of Adolph. He had been
but short time in the village, but
long enough to win the hearts of
half the young girls, from their rus
tic admirers. Handsome, frank and
social, he found himself everywhere
favorite. He would sit by me for
hours, reading our favorite authors;
and side by side, we ramblcd through
all the lovely paths with which our
village abounded. My parents knew
nothing to his disadvantage, and
were equally charmed as myself with
his cultivated refinement of manner,
and the inde6nable interest with
which he invested every topic,
grave or gay, which il suited his
mood to discuss. Before | knew it,
my heart was no longer in my own
keeping. One afternoon he called to
accompany me upon little eXcur-
sion, we had planned together. As
he came up the gravel walk, notic-
ed that his fine hair was in disorder;
pang, keen rs death, shot through
my heart, when he approached me
with reeling, unsteady step, and
stammering tongue. could not
speak. The chill of death gathered
round my heart. | tainted. When
recovered he was gone, and my
mothers face was bending over me,
moist with tears. Her woman's
heart knew all that was passing in
mine. She pressed her lips to my
forehead, and only said: God
strengthen you to choose the right,
my child"
~ could not look upon her sor-
rowful eyes, or the pleading face of
my gray-haired father, and trust