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A VIEEKLY SOURNALDEVOTED Tak.. POLITICS-, • .ITEWS 4 LITERATIU AGRICULTURE; SCIENCE; A i ND MO?
6torge stljnot, Vubtistt
stitrilottu.
IIIERMOrYLAE.
fly GEORGE Y. .DOANE.
•
' 'Twas an hour of fearf l ul issues
.When the bold thrice bundled stood,
FOr their love of holy freedom
By the old-Them:Man flood ;
When liftring:high each sword of flame
They called on every sacred name,
And.:swore, beside those dashing waves,
' They never, never would be slaves!
And, Oh! that oath' was nobly kept,
Fro morn to setting- sun -
Did deape tion urge the, fight
, Which valor begun; .
torrent like ,\ tI4 stream of blood
tan down and mililed with the flood,
• And all, from mountain cliff to wave,
Wss Friedoo3 l B Valor's Glory's 'grave.
i•es that ontikwaS nobly kept,
Which nobly 'had(been sworn,
And proudly did 'each gallnnt heart
The foeman's fetters spurn ;
And firmly was the fight maintained, *
And amply was the triumph gained;
They fought,—fair Liberty, for thee:
They fell,—To DIR IS'Eo BE FREE
Pist ellantous.
:11T in lit IL
Mif
CONtINCED.
,- - •
I . '
There was a long pause in the sick room,
while Mary nerved herself to reply. She did
not dream of combating his couvietioil, for
She had seen that" inexplicable" to sk on his
face which she-felt instinctively to be the seal
Of death-: she 'was,only struggling : with he
self, so as best to comfort
_him. 'Dearc...t,
She whispered
. at - last,j 'I have . no. need of a
Marriage portion. deck is young and strong.
•Ile will work for me, and wilt take my moth.
er to ;his heart as a i t eon. Do you fear to
leave her with. us, der brother Q! it shall
be the labor of my lif toyfill yonr place.' °
'I know it will; he l l answered;l'audf ought
to leave it - in the hands of God, - !and trust to
"His merg; but I cannot—l cannot. Mary
kte said, again, after a pause, 'do you . think
aill is-going on well with Aleck! Nay de
hot look 'so startled . love. - I. ;only ask, be
yatise—becanse it st uck me that his express
ion changed greatly when I mentioned this.
It was natural, dear fur it. took him by sur
prise. I think he had forgotten, on what
" terms we held
,this property. Still, if he has
prospered since your eugueinent, it cannot
affect ilia Very much, cad it ?'
' And did he not Sav sol?' asked IstliTy, her
lean/ swelling With - indignation. Arthur
made no reply. 'He might at least, have
feigned it,' she muqered between her . teeth.
''Archy, I cannot answer your question..—
Aleck has'always teen reserved with tde, and
pknciw absolutely nothing of his affairs ; yet,
my loved, my dailtng! brother, trust to • me.
If the most watchltil Affection, the most ten
der caie, 4n make my mother happy, she
shall be
if s.o: I
I will work for her night and
needsday, be; And will love her—O, I
will love her so, that even while she ;mourns
her angel-boy, she hall confess she never was
so loved before.'
The dyjng lad seemed soothed by ber ear
nest words, and sat& little more. He laid
his wasted temple jou her shonkler, 'lnd, ex
hausted by his agitation, sank into, a'reverish
sleep. • • .
C AFTER IX.
That night was a fearful one for the Suth
erlatuls. A wintry storm raged around the
bouse,wnd shookdts casements; but it' was
nothing to the terror which reigned . within.
• Arthur awoke from the fevered sleep which
succeeded his conversation, in wild delirium ;
and little hope was given them that he. would
'see the morning's light. His mother hung
over him with glazed eyes that knew' not th e
solace of a tear; Ind Mary kailt hour after
hour in an agonized appeal to Heaven, a Lich;
worldless as it was, was so mighty in its an
guish that she felt as hit not be refus
ed. And it was riot. Towards daybreak the
tries of suffering a l nd delirium.gradually ceas
ed. He slept; and, each' gasping breath was
heard with speeehiss gratitude. Mary won
dered a: herself wi l l she - passed slowly, with
stiff and aching !nabs, from his room. She
felt as if that one , night bad aged - her years.
-The conversation . of the evening before seem
ed to have recede, far away. There was a
I , dull aching at her.beart when she remember
ed- that Aleck hadi stood beside that death
bed, and uttered co word to calm the poor,
wistful face; she•even grieved for herself that
her betrothed shouted at such a Aline, and in
such a'presencte,..east one regretful thought
.en the dose oelser Marriage portion. But it
:all seemed to have 4.ppened long, long ago.
- She entered the lasrary, and threw herself
'upon the sofa. 11w remote and' strange, in
that faint, lay li ht, looked the - traces of
'yesterday and its employments—the scraps
.of Work, the open work-64, and unfolded
~h
newspaper. Even e curtains had been left
tiadrawa in•the a itation of the previous
.:night ; and though Ishe fain would have dar
/etied the town, the effort of rising seemed
beyond her power. 1 Hersleep had been con
stantly disturbed of lite, and after the terror
and conflict of the last few hours . she longed
to close , ber eyes in forgetfulness. But her
%houghs wandered i away, as if independent of
control, to the , mo 4 trival suticets. At one
m
' omtnt the paper. Ink the wall took grotesque
shapo in the twilight; then a glove she had
'dropped in crossing} the room annoyed her,by
Ithe untuitural pasttire in which. the hand ap-
Teared to lie. The gusty wind, wailingdown
the chimney, and [ flapping the broad ivy-,
:tleaves against •th 1 window, soothed her at
11astinto rest:' A ' se slept, it seemed that
she had left thetah and, wassailing through
the ether' towardsl
heaven, upborne by the
Wings of an angelic figure, whose face resem-
LIN Arthur's. The clear, cold air seemed to
pierce her frame, and to make her " shudder.
Suddenly
,thei atmosphere grew warmer;
something toutthed her, and she awoke. She
••• felt that a covering bad been Infd over: her,
and that some. one knelt at her beet. PieS•
P4tly . , 4alf-utt9red zond broke]; words reached
• ber ear. I
EMS
P i ma- Tait's Magazine
• i
• 1 0, my, God,! . m y God I 'why must . she
stiffer thus? ' Lay thy hawk= upon me, but .
spare-0 spare, this tenderest of thy crea
tures!' It was little more than a stifled whis
per, jet Mary caught every Word. Could 3t
be Aleck, moved fororite from his cold corn-.
.posure by the sight of her woe-worn face.?---;
But no. •Her feet were clasped to a beating
heart; and, light as wste. theipressure, kis
arniskad never held her, in Ails fondest mo
ments,-with such passion in their,grasp. She
felt .that kisses, wild and despairing as that
Clasp, rained uPonl her /dress and feet; and
her heart seemed to beat aloud; and - almost
.
to suffocate her with its .viulence. Ever and
anon, while thOse Clinging arms were still
'around her, she heard the. 49ivering Voice
again; but now it Was only her name, - Coup :
led :with epithets of passionate fondness. •
_How long a time ptnsed in this struggle,
Mary knew not She felt ne..last that the
knee." figure arose, Alrd i mo.ied to the; win
don.. She opened rheeeyes, and there,. draw
ing the curtains together, stood - Cecil Nort
on:
Ber'gazo was fascinated upon him; and
she watched
,11, 7 tri turn; and; raising her glove
from the . ' ground, thrust it into his bosom.=
Before he had lifted his head, she closed her
eyes, and beard . him slowly pass from -the
room, saying' to soine
.one sho apparently ,
was approaching, that Miss - Sutherlaud was
sleeping,. and must not lie. dititiirbed.
Mary felt as if as 'earthquake had opened
at : her feet. At first she was lest in amaze
ment that this weight-of lore shouldbo !ay.-
ished upon her. • Then . came Crowding,. Mein
pries of the maps' times she.might have , read
it ago, kid she been less blind ; and,
last of 'all,- with the sting of self-reproach;
arose the consciousness tnat -her olltt heart
had answered, in every trembling fibre,.to the
despairing
. appeali. of his: .In - vain . she de
nied it ; in vain the torrent of her tears rain- -
ed down. They could not wash away thAt
bitter memory-; and as she-.pondered further,
tool well she
.recalled the , many instances 5.1
whiCh, unregaceled and unchecked, Cecil's
approval had been, the prize for which she
ad- looked-andlabored. --In vain she tried
to forget the proofs of hiS influence over her
which: he past was -teeming : Melliory
would not be 'stilled. :Hatt- she not sought
outl the books, he lOved, the:subjects of which
he Lad spoken ! illad she not , looked for his
aynipathy, and treasured it as.Ler best solace,
in
l eVerl, s : little trouble 'I ;She remembered
how vaptd and tedious had . been the year of
hislabsen'ce, and how -his unlooked-for return;
even though coupled with-her brother's
ill
ne4, had brought a strange flow of spirits to
*heart -Which 4i, had never sought..to an
alyZe. She did UT:if:confess, even then, that
she: loved him;
bet she. felt-there were choidi
in her:, heart of hearts-of which Alva: Lau
rencenever dreamt, -and which . v'ibr'ated to
the . tench . Of :Cecil's hand . . .!
Memory did not spare her. It even brought
batik her mother's lon g -forgotten:Pwarni)ig,
and-she bowed her head ' in utter - self -abase
;
merit. .
•
- TO drown her misery, Arthur—the tender,
thenglitful brotherOon. whom she leaned for
suPport and counsel, and, Whose sweet pa 7
tience•had fulfilled her ideal of all that was
holy and"self- denying —was passing away; in
anguish and delirium, to that silent land
Where her grief could never Move hitt more.
- With speechless yearning.- did she lung
that her dream Might, be fulfilled, and that
heMight:ffuide- her yet, even through' the
vahey of le shaddow of death; and itrto the
silent grave. •
It was long before she slept again ; butt
nature demanded rest, and at last her sobs
Were Inished: When she opened her swollen
eyelids,dt was with the conviction that that
kneelingfigure, those clinging
.arms,:li'ad
-been but:the phantoms of her brain. 'Alas:
'whose hand had ;closed the cc:l:tains, to guard
hei• sleep ! -where was the glove she had drop
ped upon the - floor ! Mary
,tottered to her
brOther's - thx)r. Strange to say, he waS bet
ter,! far better, then he had been for weeks.—
Nature had rallied'after her hand.. won victory.
Mr Norton passed. her as she entered ; he
- _
was veiy:,•pale, and his massive' features look
ediunken and haagard. l is so much
better,' he whispered •,but "Mary felt, that his
unite was called, up only . to re-assure her.—
'There was a deep pathos in his', eyes, which it
could not touch, -
She was surprised to find,hoW long she had
slept. The red November sun, was-setting ;
and as its beams! rested on Arthur's head,
her{ heart, leapt with renewed hope. The
fa was was fuller, and altogether younger
loo -in e .,47, than it..had been .Since the , begin
ning of his illness. She kigsed him, and ex 7
ch4oged.a smile with. hg mother." Have
yo 9 seen, anything of Aleck, dear !' a4ced
SutherlantL I sent-to tell the Lauren-
CesL this morning that- our dear boy had Geen
r l
vey:sadly, and :T thought -he Mould perhaps
hare been here by this time.'
Mary shouli . her head.. 1 Hei. will come to
morlow, . at- all events, mamma': 'it is, mY
1, tth day. C .
Will you sit :with Archy a Rile . hit, Ma-
ry Th doctor says Le must_take as muds,
nourishrrient as possible; and I want to make
some morejelly for to-night.'
I came to stay with. him,' she answered.
'I ought to•make myself of some use after
JinY long; lazy sleep:
lam glad }roc have slept, darling,' said
Arthur, as the door closed aftey his mother.
Thu look so worn and weary; unlike ray
own bonnie MarY:
'4lle tone of fondness went to3fary's heart,
and she sank on her knees by his
I have been unhappy,Archy; she said,trem-
Ulo i uAy. ,
4botti, me, loVe 1'
es, but not'solely : and to-day, yon look
so trnueh better.'
I am ' Pollv.: I have no pain, and feel, al
most _
t strong enough to get up. But what
heti 'grieved my little itis.l l •
''You know, dear I what you told me abOut
AlOgk. I have been thinking of it,' and it
painit me more than you would believe. It
is so unlike what you, or even I, should have
done. That and other things weigh upon me
Areby; and it May herong, but I cannot
help feeling sad and 436ubtful about our fu
ture.' '
tier voles had surd; to a whispey' end 6116
her fa c e in the coverlid of the . bed ;.. yet
it_tiraa an inexpreAibla relief to have made
the r.onfeasion.
4.rthur evineed no surprise. 'And yet
Aleck loves you,' he raid gently ; 'and I
hare thought, dearest, that your affection for
Ohl !#'43 even 9versieening Hilts warmth. •.
gentr.nse, , rtstittetanna °anti, Venit'a, trurtAa, Bornin4, ftbnprit 2ff, 145.0.
f have often felt 1 had more love tb give
him than he neelel,' she answered, simply ;
`and the fondness ho did not care.' to have
has laid coldly on my heart. .But it is not
that, ArellY. do love hiM. Not :as I tho't
Should in the old girlish Jays gone by, yet
enough, until of late; for my happiness.
`. And what, my darling, has shaken that
peiPico'
' Must I tell you,. Archy 3'
II may be able to help you, dear ; and is'
possible that-God may not see fit to.. give us
another opportunity of .cotrimuning togeth
er.'
Mary flung her arths - pass • rentstely around
him, as though-their frail hold, could tether
the spirit to earth ; but for some ;hi n utes 'she
did not speak. ktieetns to me,' she said at
length, as plainly, Archy, as if God's voice
had said it, that he made to love as once
I dreamt of loving—as I have never: loved
Aleck' • •
'1)o not weep, my dearest sister, nor look
FO conscietice-stricken. There is no siu in
this; and long since I foresaw it that. would
be so. ;Perchance itis a burden God him
self has laid upon you. It may
.be that this
loving nature, :if every tendril . had taken
rout, would
. too firmly . hound you to • the
earth. .- Now. "will 'these - unfulfilled desires
draw your thoughts away tenderly, vet
ly to that haven 'where the . wicked, cease
fronfittotibling and the ;,weary are tit .rest ;
where I, too, whom you Lave so -loved, shall
have gone before., • Nay,
.'Mary, - my - prayer
has been; ' 0 !
.spare me a little ere I-go
hence.' It seem that God . has heard that
cry. Ye' . do not ile * .ceive yourself.; something
tells me that it will not be for long ;•tLat the
cord js well nigh unloosed. . • . .' -
Mary clung - to 'him . more closely' than be
fore-; and, through her blinding tears, eager
ly
scanned his face. Something of that in
,describable look which she had already' noted
:had stolen over it, and a sudden sense of
coming .desolation flashed across her spirit.
' Archy,' she said, ' if, - indeed,. you must
leave me:to bear this alone, liSten yet a little
further. You have counselled me to bear - it
-is from the hand of God. • What if it involve
Aleck's peace with my t own I . What if I
know, and. with . shame and :agony confess,
that one has crossed, my - path %I:0m my
spirit . ! mowledges as its master, ma; whom
1 con l love with the whole *strength of my
r i..
iaturt• Shall I bury this secret in my
,
teart, and so; requite pour Aleck's early trust!
0 ! Archy, Amity, what shall L 'dot Why
did I not listen to my mother's counsels r
,Arthur iooked startled and, pained. 'My
poor Mary,' he said, ' this is sad indeed:
above all, for Aleck. Ile Weald - be sorel y .
wronged by your concealing it, yet I know
not how to advise you at this moment: You ,
never can. be "Aleck's wife ; tbittwould be for
feiting your truth • and honor: 'surely; no
one has spoken to you of -love, while
,ycu
%vete the betrothed of another I'
'No !, no ! there has' been no sin, no folly
but Mine. WOuld that I. only could sutler.'
' You-must not blame yourself .too harsh
ly, demist,' he said ; for her despairing tone
and attitude grieved him. 'You were young - ,
very young in spirit .wheii you made your
choice, and are not the first, by Many and
many a one, who has made it in. error: But
I am weary, Polly--I think,! could sleep:—
Could you pray :with me, my darling !'
Mary , calmed . herself a best she could,
L a
and, kneeling down, rep dto a short even
ing prayer Which' they luid both learnt at
Lheir mother's knees. , .. 'he had scarcely con
cluded before b o er. dropped - asleep_;
and, wearied out. : ntlicting feelings, she
stole to -her own r ni, without. seeing her
mothetlagain.
CHAPTER X.
Mar: awoke, the morning of her hirtlt-day
with a sore consciousness thnt some great
chaiige had passed over .her life. fi , She had
forgotten to wind UP hei. watch tl4 night be
fore ; and al was silent in the house. But
the sound of passing feet, and of opening and
closing doors, seemed to have :-come to her
through .her sleep ; and she dressed in baste,
fearing .that it was -
She tried, as she did,-sO, to abut out the
memory of yesterday's strife. Arthur must
be her 'guide and s tronghold : she. would
forget her-doubts until she could !my them at
his feet, and would 'shape her future by
his words. She passed from her •wn room
very softly to the. door of his, and turned the
lock slowly, and- with -care—lie might be
sleeping. Why did* -she pause upon the
ihreshholdAnd clasp. her hands together with
that sudden thrill of horror I_ Kneeling by•
the bedside- was- Cecil Norton ; and- it *as
his-face which arrested her: feet, ' and made
her very heart stand still. Earthly. passion
bad failed away from it long since, though
it was more, pale and worn-than ever.. Large
drops stood' in the . eyes which . were, fixed
upon the bed, but an awe-stricken grief, too
deep for tears, see red to forbid their falling.
Mary stepped forward with a faint cry, and
,moved aside the 'curtains. Ont glance was
enough : he was sleeping, but not the sleep
of-life. *No cry of tiers could bid those
heavy lids unclose; r draw one word from
Atse sealed lips. There-was nothing_of suf
fering or sorrow upon the face; only a
tranced stillness—' the rapture, of repose. •
.Artlrur Sutherland bad died.. in Cecil's
arms that morning, without a • struggle or a
sgli . ;. and he, wishing to spare poor Mary as
long as it Was possible,. had entreated that
her rest inight‘not.be broken -into -with the
news of her-loss:\
We cannot but''lope, sometimes in, our
ignorance and weakness, that the spirits of
the loved and' lost are' withheld from the
knowledge of what passes on earth. Arthur
Sutherland would surely haVe s tnourned, even
where all tears are wiped away, could he
hay a seen the anguish of his :mother, and
the utter desolation of poor Mary, that week.
She gave way uncontrolled to the lull tide
of her sorrow,shutting herself rip in her`rcom
and refusing access to airy _ ; and' still,through
the fond recollections of her dead brother
of initial! childhood, and his sweet, patient
youth, came the image of her lover; She
wept anew.. as she remembered how little ,
sympathy he had shown at any time for the
gentle sufferer, whom all beside loved and.
pitthtd, and_ bow brief and few had beCit his
visits to the sick room—and other m . ethories
would come too. It was hard, striye as she'
might, to forget the tender hand. that had
fulfilled, as if by instinct, every wish of the
dying lad—hard to shut out the conscious
ness that , there had been a loving watchful
ness following her own footsteps, and Booth-
lag her with unspoken sympathy; such u
Alecli had never shown,: But it gave hot
no pleasure: or, if it did, is added ' a sh..
pang: for Aleck's: face, as first shelled known
it—young and brigl:4, and- war ed' iitoi-a
loving earnestness by, the first gl w:' of. pas ! .
‘ siou—arose ' before her ; .his ' be utiful qes
'pleading•as.they once, had done. And stga'in .
.she longed, with .nn ;eage r . thin ; -, that tie
struggle of her life was over, an*lier thr9b-:
bing heart at rest betide her brother. - 1
. Mr. Norton spared . the bereaved ?- mother
much that would have been exquisitely pain
ful. No hand but. his sznOdth4d the fair
features and wasted limbs for their last rot.
He managed all the sad details of hia) coin -
mission to the grave, and followed 'him there
with a heartfelt sorrow that .satisfied eVen
her! .. . 1 .
It was not until all was over, and key
were bereaved indeed, that' Mar . * 'consented '
to 'see Aleck Laurence ; and i'Was then
without any. fixed plan of action, and dread- .
I
ed nothing so inuch as a display of tender-* ,
ncss on his'part. - She saw, even s. he enter
ed, that that. fear at least was kioutOle:ss ;
fur the old expression of stillennesS; such i as
she bad often striven in happier Moments to
drive away, was unmistskably apparent. I '
' It was a strange whim to slut your Self
Terin this way, Polly,' be said, a l ter saluting
ler rather coldly. 'I have actually- been to
the house three times since last *ednesd9-:
the absen&e of anything like I Condolence
in his words, and his careless mention of the
day on which .her brother died, sent an angry
pang . through Mary's heart.
.‘'l' have suf
fered 400 much since then,' slie,: i auSwered,
'to bear your cold comments ape!, My sor
row. I' never . expected you' to sympathize
it ; but. you can .at least refrajn-ifrom
intruding upon what you do not 'understand:
Besides, whit cause had Ito Kish for your
pmsende, Aka I' ,You all'but r i diculed my
anxiety when my darling Arthur l v ns . fading
into the grave before eyes! I . Pay after
day, as he lay uptin his death'bed!, you ' held
aloof, and never sought to wile, away one
1 hour of pain and weariness!- hat l..W was
there, when last I saw him lying cold.. and
! still, to make me turn to you as might have
done, and• weep out My sorrow your arias?
—nothing!' • -
• Real Iv, Mary, I don't see how I. mto
bf.course I should havelvisited him
oftener if I had any idea he was going-so
soon, poor fellow ! • I could not ,very well.
come over on Tuesday, when your mother
sent to say he was worse ; fur I lad a.paitic
ular engagement; but I have been here three
times-since, as I told you. And I must say
I think it very absurd of you, dear, to shut
yOurself up in the way von - havajdone. - Such
,romantic grief can do him nol. good now,
•
.and
Hush, 'Meek r said Mary, frehernentiv„
,her eyeS.flashing through her ;tears. 11;1-
ware how yon•force upon me More strongly
than ever the bitter truth that we were never
made fur each otlier,s happineo., and 'that.
in my future life 'by , your - side, I shall lie
wounded at every step by a callous nature
that will never dream of the miffuislt it in-
I have no desire to force any - such life
upon you,' he answered, in a tone of sup
pressed anger. You made your', own choice,
it is true; but I can forgive yourhaving been
Mistaken. • Iliad_ no idea, I can assure you,
Of this storms temper being let, loose upon
meat every tench and turn :,it does not
make niy future look very promising.
Aleckrl take you at your word, and I
thank God that you can so easily forgive my
mistake. 'Twill be no such easy task to me,
homeless and bereaved as I am, Ito stand up
in this hard world, unloved and:ionely •, but,
whatever it may cost me, I bid rather -a
thousand times endure than ,wreck your hap
pmesa with my own. I am' as God made
me. I cannot" be checked and s i c' hooled into
thochill restraint you would have, nor do I
envy you your coldness. , s 0 ! Afeck 1 Meek !
did you not stand by Arely's side, and hear
unmoved the doubt and.grief that made death
more terrible to his trembling spirit, and yet
utter never a word of comfort It is not
that you are sordid ;;I could forgive that
more readily ; but
You do not knob all,' interrupted' he,
in the same angry tome; 'or oven you Would
scarcely have looked for a roniantic display
of disinterestedness on my part.;; I haveliad
losses of late ; many and serious ones. Be
sides, if Arthur had not' been more thin
skinned than any other created being but
yourself, lie would hot .
Enough, Meek. His very ,;name is sa
cred now. Dismiss it forever from your lips.
You have not a soul to comprehend the an
gelic spirit which has passed away from us.
0, hold'.' she added, for pity's sake !
The sun has never shone here, since ha closed
his eyeir upon it.
But Aleck appeared not to bear her ; and
even as she spoke drew completely away from
the window the heavy curtain, Which, as she
said, had never been w,lthdrawn since the
..orning of Arthur's death. They were in
Ills - room ; and thergarish light, flooding with
its unheeding gladness each memento of.the_
dead, overcame Mary's remaining compos
ure. ller tears had fallen fast as she spoke,
and often choke'd her words, Now hysteric
sobs swelled up, , one after another with a
force she could pot resist; and Alecies chid
ing voice only changed them into unmeaning
laughter. Iler mother and the iservants en
tered in alarm ; and Aleck • regretting for
the bundreth time Mary's sad want of self
rhstraint,' left her to their care. Ile did not
think it; , but he had looked his last on Mary
Sutherland--or rather, he never' held speech
with her again.
As she regained her composure, and las
lying with her head upon her inotner's bosom,
she told her, without preface .or comment,
that their parting must be forever. , Mrs.
Sutherland looked startled and even. shock
--lirthen our only hope must be -in God,'
she said despairingly, for we are friendless
indeeed ! I had so fondly dwelt, my poor
'child, upon yrAir happiness;.picturing you,-
it,least, as safely sheltered from the cold buf
fete\ot the world. 0, my deare# girl, pause
I implore you, ere you take tide step I God
knows I would not urge you ,either, way ;
but you Wave been so well - content, , so safe;
and you must, now be so desolate and un
friended. It car not be very low before my
gray hairs arelaid„ s in sorrow in tie grave.--
I have been for years so wrapped up in my
beloved boy, that I have e,ut . myself off from
old acquaintaneeship and even friendship.
What will there be for you I had. my
doubts of your peace once. You know, it,
dearest . ; but of late
,
- Do not add to my retnors; mother. - TOO.
well I remembei your first words of warning.
Hat;,,h time I have. felt, with amaching heart ;
that Aleck and
: I were ilisuited tOeachi other
Those words have rung in my ears-4ut I
cannot pause ; now, if I •would :. the die is
cast. 0 ! take me to your;, bieast, mother
we, are, both sorrOw-striCken and lonely ; , let
us -be all in all to each other. lie is : cold;
cold at heart; and it will he my comfort
Chet though this is my act, I shall suffer, far
more than he:H
, e'never -16110 poor Archy..
llenever warmed - to me ;he did not ask fur
such ldve as I could give; he.did. not need
it ; and•it luti returned to my chill bosom,
and gathered there,, and, choked me. : •
My poor child ! * Soo well I know that
stifled anguish, borne day by day '-in silence,
- We will be'all in all to each other. -Will
your mother's bruised and weary heart. satis
fy you! Will there be no sickening regret!
no wild - longing for sympathy yet nearer!'_
Mary's 'consciousness awoke ; and with a
sullen pang,, she hid her burning face.-71
'What can be nearer?' She whispered..
True, my beloved child: Of our futiire
we must not think just yet.. There 'will be
a little left to us; and, even-if it is necessary
to'give up this place, with . all its preCious .
memories I hope I shall be enabled to say,
'God'a will be _done." 'She looked rotind
regretfully. ller. boy had been cradled there
and every spot seemed sanctified 'by his pros- -
enee. Mary,',dear,' she resumed, . 'I have a
letter for .yon—l 'believe 'from Amy.
_See
n hat she sayS.'
'lt may be the, last I shall ever receive
,from her,' said Mary sadly, as she took. it'.
She loved her cousin so that she will - never .
,forgive me. low strange Italie our liVes'
been ordered. She • certainly is pot happy.
Well, perhaps, that may reach her. to judge
me mercifully.' . . • . ,
' Strangely ordered, indeed, if she { has re;
ally been-tried as my, beloved boy . believed.
Your eyes question me, My love. 'Twas but
a suirpositien,•and h charged. me never to
inane it. -As you - say, she is not happy:7--
'There is a reStless under:current lreneath her
calmest words which . tells' of some
~hidden
wound.'
think so, mother; but whatever it be,
it may be healed; or at. least be lulled to rest;
if she be only blessed with children..',
1 -Mrs. Sutherland shook her head slowly,-7-
lleaveti-seut and. glorious-gifts as therni2,'
they make us weep,' she said. ' But my lore,
do you'linow really how lonely mil are to
night I'
Mary started, and felt the blood leave her
cheek and lips. Could hehave deserted them'
His hallavotied passion mi g ht, indeed, as
she had almost pursitaded herself, have been
but. the yearnings of a nature rich in love and.
pity towards tite sufferings of a weaker coma
tnre. But Could he leave her ? Could he
find it in his heart to withdraw his, sympa
thy, just, as death and chfluge . bad so desola- -
ted• - their.hearth . l Shed not answer; and .•
Mrs. Sutherland, thitikik she had not heard
the question'lvent on. It was 'bard to part'
with' Mr. Norton ; for ho is endearde to me,
More than' words can tell, t )li\liis deVotion to
my boy:, But I could e 9 press his:remain
: we owe him already more thin; We can
ever repay. He did
,not aNk,, to see. You, Ma-'
ry ; but .then he knew you were-with Meek
Laurence. He left this for you, my love,' and
rising, she put a small parcel into Mary's
.hand.
•
,
It was copy of Tennyson's 'ln Neinori
am,: with her . tiatue; - . au& the date of'. her
brother's death, upon' this title-page.. , • .
CRAFTER 'XI.
Coui.n Arther Sutherland have: looked
baCk six months after his death, be : ; would
scarcely haVe recognized in Mary- the 'child
like buovatit nature which had- been the
greatest charm of short and painful ;
and he would have seen his old home almost
as much changed. :Mrs.`. Sutherland's/ now
slender means would not support the estab
liAment they. had hitherto.kept up ; and she
house which . remained in tier - possession- for
life' wasfair larger . than she and Mary could
possibly recfnire ; yet she would cheirfully .
have endured privatiovand even want, path er. than have left its roof.. As it buppened,
it had.twoentrances, and addmitted well of
being divided ;- so retaining a few rooms,
amongst which was Arthur's study, for their
own use, theremaiuder, With the garden, was
let to a neighbor; who fortunately took it off
their handi et once. •
• -
Te•Mrs' Sutherland it was a-mournful . con
solation-to reAt upon the pillow -where her
child had rested last—to tread the ground .
his feet had pressed ; and, while such associ
tions nursed her grief, they certainly 'softened
its first acuteness. With- Mary, lioweve,r; it
was far otherwise. She could not eomprelietid
the solace her -Another
. found Arthur's.
grave ; but . renewed-her burning tears and
wild longings for his• pre.senZ:e.. It may have
been that she needed Mrs. Sutherland's grav
er yeaii.andlonger experience of sorrow to
mould the tOniper of her grief; or perhaps,
her. ardent and unimpassioned nature 'could
nut otherwiSe. than lacerated - by the constant
recurrance to her past life and its vanished:
happiness. :Certain it is that day by:day she
faded, and her face habitually wore a subdue
ed and patient look, unnatural in one yet isv
the morning of life. .• Dien he , tears • were
eltanged, , atid- as she - sat by her brother's win
dow, her favorite haunt in.bygone days, they
would gather slow and h,eavy in her wistful
Byer, without:sound 'Or sob. •
Every split around her recalled the dead or
*the lost, and there seemed no restiniplace or
any•side for her wounded spirit: Amy as
she'llad foreseen withdrew her friend Ship and
correspoudene,c, and that wish marks' . of. the
doepeSt displeasure ; and Aleck . Laurence,
with little generosity or - delicacy crtis.'sed her
'path on every . . possible occasion. Yet- she
could not believe in spite of his assumed
Aillitr,ence, that, be: had so readily . forgotten
the: past and her self - reproach , whoa she tr.
membered : that her own hand 14 : clouded
his young life; was harder to bear than all
lesides. • • . • .
She never regretted her , decision, 3owerer.
As her judgement matured, and she grew Un
der the silent influences of her Present life a*
Wide chastri appeared to seperate het . from
her former Self, and she knew that what had
once seemed -happiness Could - net now sati ify .
her awakened heart, nor fulfil its deairea. .
And she 'learnt, too, in - -the nevi sense
loneliness Which fell: upon her, and the ach
ing Want Which pursued her in every gees
paticin,' how one image (all unconsciously)
had filled' her thoughts, mingled *lier' day
dreams, and strengtheneder in
,overt' good
I:M======2=Mt
and holy purpooie.' 'Poor Maryl no word or
sign showed that her memory was cherished
or even preserved'. and as -the long slow
months sped by,4:l; half-spoked love which
had mocked 6r with its glorinus promise, fa:
ded away, till it' was as some faint vision of
the yast., Mrs. Sutherland engrossed by her
sorrow, d id , not Perceive the . change in her
datighterli aspect until it had been evident to
others, and then only amused front her pre
oceupation by catching suddenly in Mary's=
face the peculiar look which Archy's had so
often worn. It 'Was rather an expression of
endurance than aught else ; but the mother
kneve it well, and gazed again, with eager,
searching eyes. Yes, them was the same
transparent skin, wasted hands, sad drooping
figure. . She riproached herself bitterly that,
in the grief for one child, she had neglected
the other ; but all her questions could elicit
no direct complaint from Mary.
It were folly, dearest mother,' she said
'with our straightened means, to incur the
expense of a doctor's visit when I have not a
single ailment to lay before him. You roust
not expect me to be my old self egaix you
have lost your giddy, foolish child, but you
have one quite as fond.; will not that satisfy
you - L
Do not speak as though I had blamed
you, dearest :.you have been my only com
fort, but remember, too, you are my only one
—I can afford to run no risks.'
'But indeed,lienother, I have no ailment
worth speaking of; only wait awhile and
I shall live down this rebellious heart, and all
will be right.' But Mrs. Sutherland's fears
were not to be silenced, and the medical man
who had attended, Arthur, was called in.—;
He had known Mary for some years and di-,
wining-at a glance the root of the evil wisely
ordered her iannediate . change of scene, es•
pecially recommending constant occupation.
The very word change roused her, from her
listlessness ; she felt that it would be life to
her to throw off, if possille, the clogging
-memories and tearful assoations with which
every breath of home = was fraught. But
how was the expense to be met t—or how
could she bear ,to drag bet - mother from 'the
spot w here her I lost chtld was almost present
with her yet, 1-She pondered with something
like her former energy upon a:more feasible
way of carrying out the advice-she felt ~to be
so salutary, and before many_dsxs bad elaps
ed there appeared in the paper , (without Mrs.
Sutherland's knowledge, however,) an adver
tisement setting forth poor Mary's acquire
ments in. modest terms, and offenng her ser
vices in that beaten track which, unfortu
pately,.is the only one open to women in this
conntry. She made no other stipulation , bus , , ,
that the children she instructed should be
young: and, asking only a' moderate renu
tneration, had 'several answer's without delay,
Even this seemed A wooderliil success to her
self-depreciation, and she mu:idled at the els. ;
tion, so long unfelt, with which she laid the
. letters before her mother.
Mrs. Sutherland was even more opposed to
the plan than she had anticipated ; and it
required all het powers of reasoning and elo
quence to induce her to listen to it nerd I.
I shall feel so independent and happy in
working for you dear mother, and I am of
ttolittle use to you here with this unconquer
able sinking of my spirits. Only let me go
for one year, and I shall cotne back to you
quite strong and wise, and brir ° * a little purse
full of my ovrn earnings tett/
''lt is not that I•tbink "?tf my love, nor do
I doubt that the ocupation would e mast
salutary. It is the coldnees and the slights
yoti may meet with which makes me trem
ble. No Mary ; you have had home•nurture
too long, and are by nature too tender, to be
sent amongst strangers, and exposed to the
-humiliations which,,alas, too often fall to the
lot of woman struggling fur their bread. We
'ist devise some other means of carrying
out this .plan. •
Mary sighed deeply, but she would not re
linquish her post. I arn not now
_What, I
once was, mother, real sorrow steels the na
ture againstminor trials, as - you must know.
Besides, there are kind 'hearts and noble ones
in the world ; surely I shall meet with some
such, if in a ealthy spirit I 'set out earnestly
upon my work . .' • .
,With these and similar arguments sbb
prevailed at last, and wrung from her mother
a reluctant consent. Then came the dificul
ty of deciding , between the different - offers she
had received ' but this, though there was lit
tle to guide her she was not long in doing.
One letter offer e d
eployment by the sea=
side, which in itself was a strong temptation,
for she feltA as if the very sight and 'smell of
the broad free waters would bring life and
strength with them. Then, the hand writing
was deli Cate and feminine, and the diction
unmistakably that of a. gentlewonian ; so
that Mary, accustomed to trust much to in
stinct, felt That , she could not be very far
wrong in the favorable judgment she 'had
formed of the writer.
'lt may be foolish, mother,' she said,
she conned the letters over, but the very
date looks hoiting to me. ' Earleigh Glen!'
it sounds like a cool, silent place ;. and then
the Grange: l mother I can't you fancy a
moosy grey roof, deep-set windows, and' a
shady eld porch I Yes—l think I can trust
Mrs. Ilardwick; her letter is corteous and
considerate.',s.
Mrs. Satherland smiled. If it had been
Mrs. Smith, Marine. Villa, you would 'not
have ben' so' fivorablY impressed, 'now.—
That imagination of-yours is a dangerous
gift, my childi; I sometimes blame myself
that its wings, were not, 'dipped long. ago.
That is a intstake; 'mother, dear.' Don't
you remen:tber what Mr. Norton. used to say
He would hare the imagination developed
like any otherlaculty, nourished' with, heal
thy food, andlesurb, if you will, but 044_
clipped slay. -
• I dare up be. was right, my love; at
least I always; found that his opinions grew
upon me; and, Proved themselves so at last.
Ido wonder be Lisa never been near us, by
the bye; but perhaps he has joined his sister
in India.
Mary started the idea had never , occur
red to her • but now as she ireets her scoop;
lance 4114 Airdwickli proposal, and set
about PrePariagior her journey, there flitted
before her eyes ibdoos of stately palms and
blOw flowing elketarl firers, and oho longed
with the mellowness of a sick heart,le-catoh
but a, glimpifi of that sea which parasitic*
had . borne lum from ; her forevere Yet the
houtepangs were droops' tban-ehe bed Utt.
°lad. Apartirntn lelqlng her; illogkeeTTAita
patient gray-haired mother . who Was now
her all—the old house r which she had learnt
of late alined - to ' loathe, : aeon b 5.11114 la
her heirt, now that Slie:wiiii about . ioformiksi
it; by many a tie of whieh she had' beetftittl
couscous. She begged vermissien to ;mills
round the garden Ode ,iitke*,: 'How every- -
"spot was haunted with the mournful spirit of
the past I Here l was the arson ,Whare Cecil
had given her her first lesiOnsinektitch . -
there the robin house Aleck hailtruilt ii
E
tamed birds .'- She turned
.'!down:'tint.' -
centre-walk whets the roof of roseinOdiristed
so well'with the smooth, rlis tilitbvilq be'
low ; how often from Arc y's ..winikossi flad
she watched Aleck's . hararthe kirefrilied
to Such advantage •by the wavint green
ro
,aund I Ilerlips quiVend,and Abe trifled.
into the side-walk' ; :but tiefet, io tie glad
sunshine, as if:it had but just been used_ and
pushed aside, stood • her 'brother's ' garden ,
chair. There were the old• eendebea
.74ort. '
the paint, the oil leatherneinetialittle'woru
by his - knees, and the very Ifobtstool she ; hid
so often placed , under his feet. 7. ,Then - theta
arose in her heart those bitter and fruitless
questionings :. why were these thinge bere-r ,
the - cushion on which he had leaned„ the very'
tree he had sat under—alllstrong and fruit.
as ever,ainlhe, thelender,lovirigspirit,giinef -
—gone forever from the flOnets and the - min:
shine, shut up in a dark sile.nct from the voice
of nature that gladdened; all beard' ' She
turned into the shrubbery to weep' out her
hot tears unseen ,
_ and the fist thing - her eyes
rested on was the little ifoiltid Nr.• Norton
had raised over, her peg: 1 . '!„.- • .
Then the past,the iiiippY unthinking pasty -i
aroie before her more vividly thacever. She
seemed to feel again.the unbroken sympathy.
of
of which she had been conscious frt. Ceeltri
,
presence, and the strange pleasure othearint
her thoughts i i terpreted by, Ills words. 'Her
protecting and yet reverentleve for.her dead
brother, even the unquestioning happiness of
the first days of her betiotlitil+4ll, all carnet,
crowding . back, arid' willi filial . her' old child;
ish pride is Aleck's beanty, and
~her • mut t
sweet fancies of alutu're .never 11/0 be. rft.N •
[red. ' - . . - _
She entered the house again so waft
bad that her mother's anxiStr awoke drat
and with trembling hand,she Mattned evert
preparation for her departure. •
TO BE COYFINtED;
sir The cost of a heavy Snow storiii of
very cold . weather upon. e long railroad is
very =c o nsiderable, , not dhly:itrdetention, but
by the action of the friist upon; the marlin , '
ery, in breakage &o. - Out roadi - iil this quar
ter have all morel or less lately freer
this cause, but those further noithl'have, wtt
should think, a much more costly experience..
in the same way. The stiperintend'ents of
the New . York & Erie work shops at Stogie:
hanna reports the beginning of this-week &at
he had never_known so hard a creek .npoit
iron in his life. It hai been with greai
culty, and. by working a large force- of meat •
several 'nights, that he eonld keep Alre fps&
supplied with power. SOrdething Hirai 4102. -
en locomotives were brought in disabled—
some with pumps frozen' up and bursted i
some with side rods broken; some .cylinders `=
bursted; but the greatest 'difficulty mold the -_
broken tires of wheels. These are Of the**,
wrought iron; over two inches' !tick, I but
they were not suficient toirithstaiid the dif-
ference of contraction between'the cast iron. •
centres and the wrought iron biticli iipott
frozen road, where all elaSticity ilia congeal
ed' to rocky solidity. yhe hreakagii.of anles e
wheels, rails, and-in fact all the Stational, or
moving iron, has required a . most within/
vigilance, and an extraordinary expense:
1113 CAtilt OF PASSMORX Wammesett..-;
Several days since a bill lwae introduced 'in
the Pa. House or Representatives tir "change
the venue in the case of Peastuore
IN. „John K. Mute, from Deleware county 00
the Supreme Court at Nisi Priirs, Philadel
phia, for trial. The bill bas not vet bete
called up for consideration ; but the taetiip.
pears to have been -known to
who has sent a remonstrium to the legistilv'-
ture against changing that venue. He rays
' As the lavi,now stands, and as it has,. al
ways stood hiPennsylvaeia, a cluaigi of ac
tion may be prosecuted ! in any • comity. in,
'which the defendant ean,beairested, or aush..:
mooed. ! . ,
Is Philadelphia a place- where , jtiOnt4 sit;
likely to be found exempt - from and
prejudice, and' capable - of lecoutting
triers of the issue-11
The remonstrance was refetied to the coat: 7 :
mitteo on ,the judienity;
EUROPEAN EMIGRATIONp—The' &it - ration'
-at several ports in the United .gtsted de!ini
the last year is shown by the following Atte!'
went : -
New York
Boston -
Philadelphia
162,1411
21;274
Total • . - 183 - 1112
This'shows a retiterhible ift
the amount of einigrAtionnompared with the
two or thres,,rertotte, years. -aggregat:
- number who arrive(' at dui four grids gonad
is leas by nearly ' 86,000 *mt.; ity:the year
1854 at the 'fort of New Yott't and is cab. •
nect i on :With this fact :it , must .14 1 31 Audttesa
'that the nurnbu of emigrants returned di.
ring the
f lastyear was Ireitjr istrOi and Is jaw
ly to be continued:- •,.
Arriiell at Quebec
A Pascucsi. „
Ssusttut:.--A Ass. 4 11111 .1*
since, s.• esttaill highly popular aud - iahated •
clergyman -of the Methodist Om* , lead
his eougregatioti from - the woad otaptet of -
Paul's Epistle to the Epbesittnsolgiabriviiadi
sem which is ei folluws
thersfom ye &roll.* Iwo Moog.*
and foreigners, but (Oa*, citizens - Adds tbs
Wilts, and hobsehold of ithil”.
After reading this me% he Atiblia*
raised his obi.* thwetingroNation, . sad
marked, 'Day 400 Paul tow sot
a inow.nothing and,' without. snot* Vold,___
or comment,' went:on loading: "Mtn
TiDibmi4 gentliniiat t was.
king Pcilitioal.M#loka)b#4 Pal r*'tot
let blip- so favorable no opportunity of
,ok
mug' SLP*ul'a position i";•ilindoolsai
.gar en Blitter4
ar To opei a mbaait facitprol .
tat than most people 1,111 Vitt
aeassury is two sbliiip to; 1:47 I SIVA
sholllo • -
ljiatiter 111'
12e,*
18,31 t
7,002
ENE=