The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1897-07-20
A BROKEN HEAR I.
BY MRS. MARIE w. MAERY.
Christian Observer.

object Of special interest to me.
Betsey, my mothers maid, was re-
counting to an eager audience of SER
wants n children the wonderful
things which had taken place the day
before at the "big meetiD'." DE
baptizin', de shoutin' an de preachin';
l ain v hear nothin' like it | feel
and as to Milly, she jest faint right
away
Milly, a pleasant looking, good
natured girl Of seventeen, who came
sometimes with a message to the "gret
house." and who had more thar once
stopped a moment from her work Of
binding sheaves behind the reapers to
hand me up a bunch Of cookie flowers,
when my father had carried me to
look on at the harvest fields, now
sprsng into q heroine Of
Young as | was, l understood some
thing Of the terror inspired by the
preaching of the law, and to faint
right dead away" seemed to me like
the, falling to the earth Of saul Of
Tarsus.
When late that evening l was reused
from an absorbing book by Milly's
voice, asking that | would tell Missis
dat Milly van to speak to her." |
looked upon hel detected mien and
tear.swollen face with something like
awe.
Evening after evening | saw smy
mother, Bible in hand, retire with her
to that room which even row seems to
me a sacred place and when at night
she knelt to pray with her own chill
ren she said to us with emotion that
we must all pray with her that God
would give light and comfort to poor
Milly.
Before many days had passed, Betsy,
my frequent informant. announced
that "Milly dun come thro'."
Like Betsey, l believe | was dis
appointed. Milly's quiet happiness,
her eagerness to learn the whole truth
of God, could not be mistaken; but
Aunt Amy's visions, and Aunt Critty's
henAing over hell "by de hyar
OF her haid" were so thrilling that
Milly's experience seemed tame in
comparison.
l heard my mother tell my father
that Milly was a brand snatched from
the burning, and had indeed entered
the kingdom Of heaven as a little
child.
Before the year had passed away,
Betsey, clothed with authority as being
Milly's cousin, gigglingly announced to
room that "Milly dun gin to list'n to
Edmund agin, an 'spect faint gwine
be long fob he come to AK Marster fur
her.
So it CHANGED for one bright night
in June | slipped away from the tea
table, tired out with a political dis
c%ussion, and secretly indignant that
my father should sit talking Of such
embarrassing people as Clay and Web
ster and jackson and Calhoun, when
he knew | was waiting for his promis-
ed stories Of Sir Walter Raleigh and
Sir Francis Drake.
forgot my historic heroes, however,
in the interest inspired by the tableau
on the piazza. At the farther end
were gathered a laughing, jeering
crowd of men and maids, while at the
other end, and not far from the open
door Of the dining room, stood poor
Edmund, who had evidently run the
gauntlet.
"Hummake you don't go long, Ed
pund ?" giggled tho irrepressible
you hang back. l b'ieve you dun give
out de notion" Even Cary, the stately
butler, relaxed q little from his usual
dignity. Hi, boy, what you mean by
hanging 'roun' de white foxes door
dis way ?"
The goaded Edmund replied: Hum
make you all foxes don't femme lone?
l ain hanging 'roun' nor hanging back
nuther. Does you all spect | gwine
hurry Marster at he supper ?'
Upon this hint, l spoke Father
has finished his supper, Edmund.
m tell him you want to speak to
him." and away / sped, hearing the
sound Of scurrying footsteps behind me
rs his tormentors He'd, well knowing
that my father, who was q firm be-
lever in the rights Of "every one in
their several places and relations" as
the Shorter CaSecbism says, would by
no means approve OF the batting OF
poor Edmund.
Perhaps he had not yet Screwed
his courage to the sticking place +" but
1t was too late to draw back.
l had hoped to be allowed to stand
by my father and hear the interview,
but he put me gently back and | could
only watch from the window to see
Edmund vanishing down the lawn in
the direction of Milly's house. |
! was in q measur satisfied when
my father, returning and addressing
my mother with the smile which he
never wore to any other, said: ,"Well,
dear, have arranged for a wedding
friend, Mr.. B--wiIl be with us.
All, hat wedding what q delight it
was ! L believe may safely say that
there has been but one since in which
] have been more deeply absorbed.
The gay ride to the ~neighboring
store where | was permitted to be the
proud purchaser Of a simple wedding
dress and where / forgave the young
merchant his too evident amusement
at my hesitation and anxiety in decid-
Ing between the striped and dotted
n plain muslins which he laid before
me, when he insisted on adding q fan
to my purchases, as his gift to the
bride.
From Monday to Saturday seemed a
: f9Ag time to wait, but the great day
came at last. From the brides cake,
which Aunt Nancy had graciously
permitted me to stir q little, to the
roses fashioned by the deftest and
dearest hands into a wreath and bou-
quet, everything was satisfactory. AS
usual, my dear nurse and Cary were
the chief managers. 1t had been ar
ranged h q the marriage should take
place on the lawn in front OF the house.
Tea vas hurried over before sunset,
that the house servants might be ready
for tho festivities.
AT last, after many false alarms, we
were assured that the procession had
started. Ny father and mother and
Mr.. b went out upon the lawn,
where my brother and I proudly held
the tall candlesticks On each side Uf