The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1889-03-22

She clasped her hands together, and If
ever the poor, pale face looked like an
angels IL looked so then.
He tcas truel He did not forsake mo!
Oh, thank GodIn
And then she remembered all that fol-
lowed, and how it had all ended in her
being what she was now-John Bower
bapk's wife.
The dead man had told lie-or perhaps
not direct lie, but q misstatement-put-
ting forward what he believed aud hoped
as what really existed. He had evidently
ter no longer considered herself engaged
to him, and was on the point Of marriage
with John Bowerbank. Such fabrications
are often given as facts by even good peo :
pie, who hope them until they really believe
them. Tho falsehoods Of the wicked can
be met-the misstatements Of the respec-
table and worthy cannot.
-And > 4: ina. Is half truth is evsrsh. bla.fess
30 Emilys lover must have believed il,
Rt75111
another. II msy Be ) email 3hinE Is = "
him his house and suppress his iettszs; and
such may be, BY some people. counted By
no means an unwarrantable proceeding on
The port Of any father who wishes to pre-
Won't his daughters making an imprudent
marriage. A little unoandid, perhaps; a
little like tresting her as child: but then,
many young women are little better tha,.
children; and parents have, or are supposed
to have, all the wisdom, the justice. the
prudence on their side, and may take the
law into their own hands, and use any
means which they think advisable for the
ultimate good Of their offspring. How can
they-the children-just entering on life,
and With little or no experience of its
countless pitfalls, know what is best for
their own happiness? Blind obedience is
safest and best.
So would argue many excellent people
30 doubtless would have argued the dead
lawyer, could he have come back from his
new-flled grave, or from the place, wher-
ever it was, that his soul had fed to, and
stood before his daughter in the dead of
night as she sat with that fatal letter
still clutched in her hands, staring at va
cancy.
She was usually good deal given to
iweeping-too much SO, indeed-she was
such thorough woman in all her weak-
nesses, poor little Emily. But now she did
mot weep ut all; neither did she rave, nor
think any unholy, wicked thoughts, nor
curse her fathers memory. He was dead,
and she must not allow herself to dwell up-
on what he had done against her, or Judge
whether his act were right or wrong. She
only felt that 1T had killed her.
Yes, he had killed her, this respecta table
nnd respected father-had killed. his own
daughter, his natural flesh and blood, as
completely as il he had slain her with his
hand. 1t might be worth counting-as d err
haps the good God may send His angels to
count some time, when the secrets OF oil
lives shall be revealed-how many fathers.
perhaps some mothers; but women being
less selfish than men, these are rarerD
with the very best intentions, have done the
same.
yoHatah yoHatah had add ,fill9d hsn1nkiSlaa the spring of
lawful open opposition = though that
would have been cruel enough-but by
mean, underhand, cowardly blow, side
thrust which there was no parryinR. BY
him, worldly man as he was, probably the
thing was not realized z :ts full enormity.
How could he, or such as he, understand
the loss of love-the bne blessing which
makes life sacred and beautiful Or per-
Ihaps he thought, like other worldly people,
that worldly blessings are all in oil, and
that he was actually doing his daughter a
kindness in keeping her in the sphere she
was born to; saving her from sacrificing
herself to man OF no wealth and no po-
sition, decidedly her inferior in the mar
riage barter, who, while sho gave him ev-
srything, had nothing on earth to offer her
except love, which was a commodity Of ne
Be that as it may, he had killed her. OF
course, there is this to be said, why had
she the weakness to let herself be killed2
Why did she take her lovers loss so pass
lively, and so INCREASINGLY allow herself to
be married to another? Why, in short, suffer
herself to be made mere victim to cir
cumstances when she should have risen
above them, as q strong, brave human be-
ing, whether woman or man, ought to do;
fight her own battle, and assert her right to
live out her own life in her own way,
whether she married John Stenhouse or
not2
Alas, the question is answered by hun
dreds of victims-men and women, but
especially women-to whose weak help
lessness might has become right, and cow
ardice appeared like dutiful submission.
Pass on, pale ghosts, sad shadows OF lives
that might have been made 30 happy and
SO fair; God will remember you, poor suf-
fering ones! But how as to those who
have caused you to suffer?
think, If there ought to be o Gehenna
upon earth-for mortal justice must not
presume to create Gehennas afterward--il
should be opened for the punishment oi
tyrants-domestic tyrauts-
Emily Bowerbank sat till daydawn with.
out attempting SO much as to stir. Bewil.
dering, delirious thoughts swept through
her poor brain-she who was not mucl
given to think, but only to feel. Whether
she fully realized her own position--al
she was and all she had lost; whether. il
those long still hours, sne went over and
over again. in maddened fancy, the con.
trast between her calm, cold, respectnbl,
marriage with honest John Bowerbank-
thank heaven, she felt he was not to blame
he never could nave known anything--and
marriage with every pulse Of her hear
happy and Mt rest; every aspiration Of hel
soul satisfied; her nature developed. anG
her mind nsthened; fitted for veal OF
woe, labor or ease, peace or perplexity, al
she would have been had she become tn,
wife of John Stenhouse--all this wal
| never revealed.
She said nothing and did nothing, wha
was there to do or say2 She blamed M
| one, not even herself; it was too late now
Everything was too late. She felt in
vague, childish sort OF way, like one
the foolish virgins" whom she had Away
been so sorry for as q child; her lamp, too
had gone out, and could never be relighted
The door of life was shut, not to b,
l. lopanad mora .llss