a azz l faz 31.,41 511 - mcii\ - v 2) 746 - 01.059 - WrJl24.a.b.scla W a% 1 210 2C:21 LMAqt VOLUME X. MABEL DACRE, OR, THE TRIAL OF FAITH. CONCLUDED Little dreamed the artless girl tint her father was watching every glance of tier eye, and that already, in his ambitions mind, a resolution wns formed as inflexible, as iron, I' plan for the ay,- grandizement. which no prayers. or tears, or entreaties of hers could alter in the minutest particulars. Not-many weeks had passed since that evening, and the young duke had sought Mabel's side at every festive oce,ision, Mill to her he had never breathed his love. Something there was in her simple purity that almost awed him ; her calm dignity prevented all courtly gallantries. while her appari.ni indifference kept, hack an impassioned deellrn- To her father. therefore. he resolved 11l tion speak first. and it was with difli.nilt‘; Lord Arlington concealed his delight, when the pro,:- pect of Ins daughter's alliarwe with the blood royal of France Was first piT.-ented to him as a certain thing : for, to his tnin•l- the poss:ihili- ty of Alahers opposition weeld have s4,e l ned absurd. The proposal was at .moo ne,-epted. and the day fixed upon for the noptiak. whi"h were to be eviehrat.vd areordner, io the lionikh !brim : and, previous to the c••rru u mr. the young. pair were to confess and receive mass. niter the custom of that church. - The next day, the happy Nher railed E..: daughter to the library, anti there procectled to lay before. the astonished girl her brilliant prospects : not to ask her eon.tent, not even to inquire whether she loved D',llencon, but with the iron tone of one who expects no opposition. and to whom denial would be of no Mabel.henrd at first ns one in a dream. het eyes dilated, her bosom heaved, but when he went on, and named the day that bad been fixed npon, she seemed to l'eel ns one who hq s heard his doom, but who , e lips will cry for mercy, though there is no hope. " father r , she passionately exelniine , l. "it must not be.. I cannot, cannot we hint— oh, God ! tench me in this how. what I shall saw. The time has T can 110 lon g , 1«.,1 EM==l have tried to please you : nay. sometime.: I have grieved my conscience ra:her tlrm lien. hey you —but it cannot he so ally r. \o!" she wildly sold. end her eye.. glowed, hor whole frame trembled with the violence of her err o r tion, " I nin •our child, and, as stick. I Wll bound as far as I can to ohpy p o. hut I have another father, even God, aml to hint, before you; before all the world, I owe allegiance. have solemnly pledged my if to obey his will as I have been taught it: 1 am a toetul,er of Ills chureh—yes, my father, I tun a Protestant. . a Puritan if so in derismn you clip those wing acknowledge no supreme head but 11 ,1 ;;rode but the Bihle : nod elm you ash me, ill obedience to your will, to renounce my faith, to nhjore my ehurch, to 1 . 01 sake that which is dearer to me than all the world beside ? j No. you will not , you cannot be :a) cruel, so I unjust, so harsh ?" Cense, censr this idle ranting. Lady Mallet. As your father. it is my duty to bring you into the true church, from which. but Ihr my care leSsness..you should never have wandered. is not the opinion of your father, amp your soVer eign, of more value than your own tmenli&- tned prejudices ? Is it not your duty to ola•y your only parent. at the expen , e only of the sacrifice of a mere form of worship ? "Nay, spra'c not : I will Heat no cmnpl no refusals: you shall marry IY,llencon on the day I have fixed, or I will deprive your old Puritan teacher of his living. and send him fifth With a faint shriek 'Mabel sprung forward. and fell at her father's feet, clasping his knees "with her cold hands, and lifting her despairing eyes to his face, "Spare, oh! spare me this trial, my father : I will do taught else to please you, hat. oh ! do not ask me solemnly to confess a faith I have not, or to promise a love that I can arc! r, nmr give : let me be your own Mabel —let me live with you, and cheer your deelining years ? 1 ask no high station, I covet no wealth—only let me be at peace with God. and my own Old ! In pity hear me, 0 father : for her sake, whose name I bear, do not revenge my denial of your wishes on the head of that imMeent old loan— do not send his gray hairs in sorrow to the grave 1" For a moment, one moment only, the proud heart of the aspiring man was softened, as he called to mind one who had also knelt before him, and implored him to let her once more see her childhood's friends but the next, the vision of a coronet over that pale brow, round which the long dark curls were falling, and lie coldly said— " You have but to choose. I ask no dread ful sacrifice at your hands : methinks it were to many rather a pleasant prospect to be Du chess D'Alencon, and you will remember your own impressions of him were' decidedly agreea ble. However, he will be satisfied when you aro his, I doubt not ; I will leave you to medi tate, and remember, in a life of jiwty sears. your father was never known to give up any thing on which his will was fixed." • Mabel said no more ; on that sweet face had fallen the deadness of despair, no sound escaped 1 from her lips, her eyes wandered vacantly I round as if her mind had failed under the pres sure of some great calamity—but she was not forsaken in that dark hour by Hint to whom' she had solemnly given her service'. Although 1 the terrible thought that she should send forth her beloved and venerable 'father to deStitution and want was ever in her mind, and=added to it-7-the remembrance that Walter, too, would be left desolate; even were ho suffered to retain the curacy, which, in itself, was very improba ble ; yet the Words . of Mr. Deere were with her —" My . child, never give_ up your faith, let no threats induce rid : and then, above even this, the words of Christ, ' whoso loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me.'7 !.` Strengthened by these reflections, Mabel re solved, before God, never to abjure her faith, and never to wed ono whom she could not love PUBLISHED, WEEKLY BY HAINES & DIEFENDERFER AT ONE DOLLAR AND FIFTY CENTS PER ANNUAL = The weeks passed slowly on, and nothing more was said to Mabel on the subject of her marriage, but she saw the preparations going on with a languid indifference, which her fatbw•r attributed to her perfect resignation to his will. One thing she had requested of Lord Arling ton, and he had granted it, and this was—that the duke should visit her only, occasionally, as a common acquaintance. The wedding-day approached : it was the night before—the magnificent dress, with the gorgeous jewels and bridal gifts. were all pre pared. Mahel asked leave to retire early, and as she knelt, according to the custom, to re ceive her father's good-night embrace, she gently kissed his hand and a tear fell upon it. With more than his usual tenderness. he said —" (;od bless and keep you, my darling daugh ter !" * * That morning, Mabel did not appear. It was late, And becoming alarmed, her father en tered her room. The curtained bed had not been touched. She had fled—and with her, a young girl, her waiting•maid, who loved her frig mistress with almost a passionate fondness. No clue cold(' be obtained of her course : search was unavailing : and, heart-broken and discon solate, the father—after a year or two of utter silence as to her fate—relapsed into a sad and stern misanthropy. None hut himself knew how sharp were the pangs of remorse, or how his solitude was haunted by a pale, sad face, and the moans of a broken heart. CHAPTER V. NVII-t s•in;:ht they littr , lirh••ht jeiveis Of the mine? The %% whit nr seas, the of , r.tr? They enagitt a !hides pure shrine. llintANg ft was early in June, WO. that in one of the oldest settlements of the New England colony, quite a large nntober of persons were assembled in the best room the town afforded. In worship (iod nocording to the rites of slit Englkh church. Tt was the first time since the settlement of the place that the liturgy of the church had been heard there: and the congre- cation, many of them wept witli delight to he:tr again those well-remembered strains : and their voices swelled in one unanimous response, as the lips of the, aged man of God repeated. Glory Le to the Father, and to the Son, and to the holy Ghost." Then, when in his sermon he touchingly al• Ivied to the storm of persecution that had driven him out of the quiet harbor, in which he had hoped to lie moored, for his few remain. ing years. and forced hint, a mere wreck. acritsa the wide ocean. many were the tears that f•ll Brno the eyes of those who had left parents hoine: , i, and wanilered away to this new coun try. But on the ears of IMO .111 particular the sweet and soothing tones of the church-serci :• e s,..emed to ill like magic. This was a pale, sad, drooping girl, the cil lige schoolmistress': none knew much alum: her history, save that some tunic years before a vessel landed from England. having. met Ivith terrible disaqters, and brought a company ol pilgrims, who, though they could not endort the umunnoties'kit the church MN continu ally borrowa•ing from Rome, yet loved and it, vulva its services, and desired to retain its ritu al. Among, their number was an Mil man. a-- companied -I,y two young girls. one of them of rare beauty and grace. though her face was worn with weepin4 and care. The old man was simple hearted. pious. and bonevclent_ nod soon became touch beloved by all the colonists: lle was quite poor. having been only a school master in his native country, so that on their arrival he opened a School. in which the flit young girl above mentioned assisted, while the other, Alice, managed the household :AMIN Thus things went on until nearly two years had passed, then Alice man•icd, and moved away, leaving Mr. Acton and Mabel alone together. lle had become too feeble to attend much to the school, so that Mabel: now took charge of that and the house also, beside min istering in every way to the old man's comf trt who seemed to look upon her as a being from 1 another world, so entirely was his love mingled with veneration : he guarded her with the most jealous care, and watched that none should 1 (are to treat her with disrespect or even fami liarity. `uc}t was the reverence with which his example inspired others that she was al most universally called the Lady Mabel. And yet she was 'neither proud nor haughty : Ito. never was there a sad heart to which Mabel's soft voice and lovely face were not soothing ns the tones of music ; and by the bed of sickness ' or in the hour of death, she was always ready to minister help to the afflicted, and to breathe I into' the sufferer's car the blessed promises of the gospel. But, ah ! in all these long dreary years, how had Malik pined for some voice to breathe corn fort into her sad heart, and to awaken once more the chords of affection within its cham bers., Since a poor persecuted girl, she fled. in the dark and gloomy night, from the princely mansion of her cruel father, " choosing rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasures of sin fin• a season," how touch of suffering, toil, and privation, had she endured. It was by the help of Alice, her waiting maid, her plan of flying to America was form ed and carried out. Alice's uncle, Mr. Acton. had written to herlpto announce his intended departure to the mlonies, with it company about „to sail ; and Mabel deemed to join him. and accompany them to America. Alice was easily persuaded to escape with her young mis tress, and their arrangements had been made some days previous to the wedding-day ; but Mabel had hoped till the last that her stern father would relent. Disguised in a suit of i Alice's apparel, she easily effected her escape from the castle, and from thence to the little seaport town, where Mr. Acton resided. To him, Mabel made known all that was necessa ry of her sad story, and the old man, touched with pity for the poor dove flying from the tor mentors, promised his aid and protection as long as she required it. A day or two after they all embarked ; and Mabel ) as she saw the Allentown, Pa., February 13, 1856. distant shore sink below the horizon, felt that she was leaving all she loved on earth, and that henceforth her life must he one of toil, hardship, and privation, without a single ray of gladness to cheer and brighten it : but her pure spirit did not waver for a moment ; dearer to her the faith in which she had been educated, and which she had so early learned to prize, than luxury or splendor, or even earthly love. Then, too, she was comforted by the thought that her father would not carry out' his threat, now that threats were useless, and Mr. Mere would close his life in peace among his beloved parishinnere ; and Walter, ah ! could he know the sulf.,rings to which she was exposed, how would his loving heart ache—and she thanked Heaven for sparing him this trial : never for a moment did she doubt his constancy, or cease to dwell upon his love as still fully hers.-- Beautiful faith of a warm, trusting heart ! how seldom on earth do we find it. We have wandered fir away from the little band of worshippers, butt onr readers will at once recoAnize in the pale sari girl, who listen• ed with such tremblinz ene:erness to the solemn words °V the liturgy, Mabel Dacre, (as she once more called herself, and can readily understand the emotion with which she heard for the fiNt time in so many years, the same pure ritual, which in childhood she had learned to love. or. ten had a deep manly voice; whose lightest tones were music to her ears, repeated those well kno en words. and Mab:l's heart was too full for utterance, she could only weep. And now for a time let u:; return to River. dale. and see the ehanLes that have taken place there. For months after MaheFs departure, the lit tle cottage was tilled with gloom, yet still her sweet loving letters, like gleams of sunshine, often illumined its darkness. and Walter, who now shared the loneliness of Mr. Daere's abode, would often sit for hours with one of those pre cious missives clasped in his hand, and his eyes vandering, from one to another of the dear o 1• sects which her Ninth had rendered sacred.— There were her flowers, still blooming as fresh- lv as ever. while she whose slender fingers had so often trained their graceful foliage, was gone forever. Alas! how sad, how inexpressibly harassing to his loving heart, was this living death of her whom he so idolized : separated as fully as though the dark portals of thegrave had arisen between them. yet with the agonizing t lomeht ever in Ids mind that far away, in a gay and brilliant throng, her beauty gladdened other , e 3 1)., y VOICC . 10 it/ n,aj while her poor lonely heart was yearning. to Ilea away and be at rest. For a time not a doubt of her constant. faith- I rid devotion to patio ever croised his mind : and even when a long interval passed and no letters came in answer to his retreated and affectionate (mos, not a line to cheer his poor desolate heart. he still tried not to give way to despondency or ion' t : " do not let its distrust each other. Wal.er." these sweet word; would come like an angel message. when his hope, and his faith lin woman's love were well nigh gone. And then .a new trial came in the increasing feebleness of his beloved rector. The ()Id man's worn out frame could not long have endured I. von with the gentle cares and sweet cherish ing of his adopted daughter. Anxiety for her fat'e. and the long cessation of all intercouse be tween them, brought on a melandwly that seemed to deprive bin) ofallamergy or strength : awl (Inv by day Walter Saw the bowed and aged form grow weaker, and the gentle voice more tremulous. One evening in autumn. as \Walter sat by his bedside, reading from that priceless volume. which was now the rector's only e4infort, the post-hoy entered with a letter flout Loudon. • It is for ou. dear father." said the voting man, at the game time handing hint the 'letter. W. Dacre's eyes glowed with unusual lustre. and lie said reverently, Thank God! I shall once more hear the sweet words of alf.:ction from my darling child ! read it to me, Walter. ant too blind to read it myself." Walter opened the letter ; but at the first glance a chill like ice crept over his frame.— •• It is not from Mabel, father," he said, in a voice of such ill-suppressed agony, that Mr. 1):::•re start2:l, then almost gasping for breath, he read as follows ••yin. II —.lt the ree,neFt of T,suly liuGf•rt. 1 de(.ire to inform .yon of her approaching inarrirgo v.ith Ihel.htite D'Alencon, n zeal itts support er or her father's faith, (mil a nohlemon of the highel t l'uller suet( circumstances site Ikons it proper (bat intereoursc between herself and her child lowers r,, , «ociates «hotaill cease entirely. Itoauttr, EARL OP ARLINGTON." 4 , Oh God ! must i drink this cup of bitter ness ! My Mabel false to her faith ; my child. my child. it must not be," murmured the old man —and his check grew paler and paler.— The shock was too great for I:is weak frame and with one long sigh: his ransomed spirit fled to its eternal rest. What language can paint the bitterness, the deep intensity of Walter's anguish. That Ma. bet, his beloved, his plighted wife, could be another's, was a thought too fearful for his soul's strength ; he could not believe that there was on earth a misery so great. No, it should not be ; and he cried aloud in the terrible struggle with his agony, " I will tear her away from them all : I will fly to her, and lay at her feet my wealth of de spised afnction. Yes, I will snatch my trea sure from those gilded nobles, and brimg her to some lonely wilderness where none shall dare molest us. " Oh Mable, my love, my precious one : can I your heart so soon have grown cold : have you forgotten already in your gorgeous home the happy cottage where you grew in innocence and beauty, and each day, each hour, I. loved you with an intense and yet tenderer passion 7 ! Is the gay world, then, so alluring; so fascinat ing. Alas ! I could not give my darling wealth, or luxury, or splendor, and in her new home, she has found them ell. Poor, prestimp tome; fool that I Was, to think that :void the gifted, the learned, the flattering crowd who throng around the peerless Lady Mabel, she could remember through long years of nbsenee, th e humble, unknown curate. " And yet she bade me not doubt her even in the darkest hours, she was so (vile, so loving, so constant : i 9 there not some ray of hope, sonic little ground for faith"—and in very despair he read again the fatal letter—" by Lady Nabers request," met his eye; and once more lie flung it from him. " All, Mabel, could you not have °F.pared me this pang. You feared lest I should intrude upon your happiness, lest I should scare away the golden visions that arc lulling your con. science to sleep : fear not, I shall never come to reproach yon : life shall henceforth be a vain yet constant struggle to forget thee. " And can it be, oh God, my king. that then requirest of Me a broken heart—is this. indeed, toy chosen sacrifice? Then be it so—' thy will be done.' " But ah, not here let nit' live, not amid these scenes let my future years be spent. Ilene every thing speaks of her : each sound in na ture seems to thrill my heart with that dear name ; the little birds call Mabel in the joy Mis tones she used to warble, and the river sighs forthher name as it flows along to the ocean. " I shall never conquer myself here, never he a useful, calm, devoted servant of Min to whose cause lam pledged. Far from all these happy memories, let me seek a new and wider sphere of action. I will go f.n•th into the life and freshness, the hardy vigor and stern independ ence of the pilgrim settlements : and may God grant me strength and power to carry forward his work, though it lead me even among the wild savages of a western wilderness." Such were the thoughts that daily passed through his tortured mind ; and ere many months passed Walter Lee stood on the deck of a vessel Ilia rwas bearing him to his new home. Ile had j tined a brother clergyman whin, with his young sister, a rtir and lovely girl, were, like him, seeking new scenes and associations They were the last of their family : and on them, ton, the insidious hand of disease had im- pressed its symptons. though.to the girl it. only added a richer glow to the tram:parent elWek. and a more sparkling lustre to the radiant eye : but Charles Wentworth, for that was the name of the young clergyman, was already. to all eyes but his own and his id01i7...1 sister's, the marked vi aim of that fatal disease, by which nearly all his family had sufrered. Consumption had given • that polo cheek its wan, haggard look. and to those large eloquent eves their peculiar and unnatural tire. Ills voice. thoo?', lull of nu•ln.ly, was feel tie and low as a woman's : and, unable to preach. he had re solved to try change of air, in hopes that his own and his sister's health would be benefit ted. Walter had firmed a strong friendship fu• the puremi pded and talented young TIM 11 , whose gentle and aill:ctionate nature needed a strong heart to lean upon : and the lovely Evelyn. too. he regarded with a deep and painful interest : so frail and fair a thing you seldom saw, with a hold on life so in.:emir... and yet so gay and unconscious: her thoughts. her he;•es and lt , r whole loving Leart. were With het'. liVoliter, 16r whom she fondly pict tired a futio.e of ha ul and success in the new world w here thee trerc going. And for herself. she hail no thought beyond the pleasure of the nommt . in addin7 to Ilk comfort, in contributim.: to his enjoy ment. Suit were the feelings of all when t h e y commenced their new life but Walter Lee wa's not one toward whom a young and sus ,, cpi Ode heart like Evelyn's could Ling 11 . 111ilin innnov ; his devotion and tenderne,!..: to her brother. his earnest, affectionate. and serious pleiiding; with /or, upon those subjects in which he was himself most deeply interested, and hi: brilli ancy and eloquence in conversation. her completely,_and ere she was hers e ir awar e of it, site loved hint with all the depth of her nature. Charlijs knew by the varying color of her check, and the ardor with which she hung upon every word and look of their beloved friend. that her heart was wholly his, and he trembled lest her love should not he returned : for he knew the slender chord of her lid': would soon be broken under the burden of an unre quited passion. With nervous and painful anxiety, therefore. lie • watchcd each motion and, glance of Wil liam's, for so our bet o had told them to call him, his heart, so sensitive when they first tnet, could not bear to hear from woman's lips the name of Walter. Evelyn's voice. too, was singularly like Mabel's; so much so that at tone or word of hers would send the blood in a tvarnt glow to his cheek, and cause hint to reply with a tenderness of look and accent that. though it was but momentary, always sent a thrill of joy to the Young girl's heart. William, said Charles Wentworth, one evening, as they sat together in their new home, admiring the rich bites of the autumnal leaves, and listening to the sweet !nosh! of Evelyn's voice, as it came to them from the lit tie garden where she hived to *ander. "ii iv is it, William," he asked earnestly, " that, with a heart so sensitive and warm, you have never loVed ?" IVith a sudden start, and turning away his head, while his voice sunk to an accent of touch ing pathos. William replied. "I do love ;" then hastily recollecting himself, he hesitated. and I said in a hurried and agitated voice, " Yes— that is—l mean I love an ideal of my own." But Charles beard not the confused explana tion, he dwelt with secret rapture on the thought that Evelyn was loved : she Would be so happy, his sweet, his lovely sister ; he knew that no ono could help loving her. . A few months had passed away, and Walter I (or William, as I suppose tire must now call , him) was gradually becoming more dependent. ; upon Evelyn's society for his happiness, so sad and bitter were the memories that haunted him ; when alone, that he would fly to her-presence to dispel them ; it was a relief•to his slighted heart to be so fondly welcomed ; and almost unconsciously he was led on, till .Charlcs had no longer any doubt that his affections were ; fondly Evelyn's, and she so happy, so blessed in his presence, asked nothing more. The cold bleak winds of autumn, with their first breath, seemed to chill the little life in Wentworth's' feeble frame ; every day he failed, and yet Evelyn could not, would not believe that he was passing away. One evenin An: g, after a wretched day, he insist ed upon being lifted into a chair, that he might behold the sun-set. -Alas ! it was only to hast en a feW days the approach of the fatal messen ger. The exertion was too great fir him, a large blond vessel ruptured, and in a few moinents all ! saw that his life was fast ebbing away. Evelyn and William stood by in mute des pair, the termer, her cheek deadly pale. her 1 whole frame convulsed, bent over him in that silent, tearless anguish, so terrible to behold. 1 " William," whispered the dying man, " come near, I have a solemn charge for you—my day-, ling sister ! oh guard her, cherish and protect her, as you value my peace in death. I give her to you : oh promise me that you will be to her, father, brother, husband—all : promise me this. my friend, my only friend—and he took the cold passive hand of Evelyn and laid it gently in William's, then clasping them in his own, he said, you promise me never to leave her, to value her happiness more than your own you not, oh will you not promise this for the sake of a dying man ?" " do promise," faltered the young man. in earnest, solemn accents : " and may God do so to me and more also,' if I ever will ingly cause tier pain." 1 know you love her," Charles eonlinned : " T have seen it in your every net : and oh. William. pm have vet to learn the wealth of love and tenderness in that young heart—it is thine. all thine." Gad bleos you, dear ones ; do not mourn . for me, ram so happy thus to die ;" and here Ihe low tones grew fainter and fatter, the large eloquent eyes gave one last lingering look of ardent love, and then were closed forever. words and presence alone bad power to soothe or even moderate the intensity of Evelyn's gi ief : and he would not leave her until he saw her .resto: ed to something of her accustomed cheerfulness. lie talked to her kindly - amt tenderly of their future home, when ! he should have a settled l o wish ; he tried to per- ! simile his own heart that he was happy ; hnl. at times memories of the past would come before i Idi o , and a longing so irresistible to behold ()Heel More the face that even now haunted his, dreatns. would tike possession of him, that even to Evelyn, so blinded by love; he appeared con- : strained and unhappy : and tears Nvonbi fill her! loving eyes as.she,enzed upon him, and felt she! cool,; not drive away his glodin : then William •.• ~,, !.IhiA promise. to rare fir her happiness ht.r.l'il hi,, uR cc. two wow(' ttaNten tic claw' away the tears. and recall her wonted htightness. Eta wi h all his cherishing. he could not lint perceive that her liealth was de and he earnestly besom.dit her to be more careful and rruilent.lind to guard move wa:clifully against the first indications of dis ease. tt Oh, you are too fearful, my William,•• she would say, in a cheerful tone, yet in her own secret heart she ()lien mourned in bit terne 4s of spirit over her doom, for sod! it seemed to her. • •• 1 have good news fir you. drarest.•' said \\Tliam Lee, as he entered the lowly home of ihe widow lady, with whom, since her brother's death. Evelyn had him ii. " L have hetu•d f ro th Mr. Clare, the kind old winister whorl you re• nivmher as having orossed the sea with us. Ile writes mo-n urgently for you to soon , to them at once: anti his daughter, Mrs. 1 yes. adds a 1!1,:t. airt!etinil3l(` 110,4!5eri pt, to say that our wedding. my Ev.lyn. shall take place at her 114111:40 I have already found you an escort. as ant e ll to set nut on my western expedi Lion to-morrow. Can you be all ready for a start to-morrow ?" She wept as she thought that never more on earth should she behold the face whose smile had been the sunshine of her youth, lint even while she wept., a smile of triumph lit up her tear-bathed eyes, as she remembered be was now in a world where there is no doubting or dart:MSS, lw the Lamb is the light thereof :" lie new new that his prayers, his lessons, and his example lute( not been all in vain. and that the trial of her faith, though a fiery one, had but strengthened and confirmed it. Long and earnestly they conversed, and Mabel drew from her lover all his varied histo ry. Into her car he poured forth the long hid den, but still fervent love that even his belief In her estrangement could never subdue. Then be told of his promise to Charles Wentworth, of Evelyn's tender love, and his almost involunta ry engagemcrit. Mabel heard his words With a beating kart. each moment; her check grew paler, but, in her eye and on her lip there rested a look of calm, almost sublime self sacrifice, a firm resolve to obey the dictates of that still small voice withir. " Walter," she said. inn tone so low and solemn that lie was awed—" Walter you must never fircathc' to hutnan ear the secret of our mutual love.: it would kill Evelyn, she is your • plighted wife : would you snap the frail thread of her young life: your promise to that dying ! man forbids it, your own conscience forbids it. CIIAPTEII VI. I " Walter my beloved. my cherished friend, my brother. remember her life depends on the T?e ms l, - Te'; e , eV 0 , 11! fleril Idle can 1,r:u..; . : , 11 Lei r fidelity with which you keep this secret, and I T., 'VC. :;1!11111, Ile be /11VA r ; charge you, as •you will answer to her brother ; T;; kti;;‘v het wecti y,,u lies a gulf Ilwt ever that you be not guilty of her life !" Your forau , , your Impev, your ,IrAinies mast sever." " Oh, Mabel, my angel Mabel, must it indeed " 0101ahel dear, T am-so tired I have come be so is there no hope—think how hard it will so fast." said Evelyn Wentworth, as site tan be to press back once again the rushing tide of into the little parlor where Mable Dacre sat love that has for long years been gathering with her workbasket beside her. busily etn- silently yet strongly in my heart." ployed as usual .. Iler brilliant eyes spatkled "Is it easier, think you, for me," said the with excitement, and her cheek glowed with n , noble girl, lifting her clear eyes, lit with the feverish flush as she took Mabers small hands purity of an angelic spirit, to his : " shall I in her own, and exclaimed—" Do come, Mabel, have no struggle, now that hopes long sincd darling. I have so much to tell you, and I want ; crushed have sprung up only to be once more you to help me to gather some flowers to deck blasted ; it is hard, but we can do it, my Wal our little cottage, tlm William is to be here to- ter yes, and we must do it, faithfully and night—just think, dear sister, this very evening truly, as we hope for peace in our lives and joy —oh, I can hardly believe it. :ix whole' in heaven." • months since I have seen hint, and now Mabel, She took once more his hand in hers, and Ste writes so lovingly, and says lie will never; kissed it with a sister's temrerness --" Be leave me tiny more; oh, I am so happy." trong, dear brother ; trust 4n God, we shall But, sister mine'," said the silvery voice meet again where there is neither sorrow nor Mabel, as she lifted her large. serene eyes to the . sighing—farewell." • excited face of Evelyn, whom she loved with all' The next morning Mabel left M----ok; sho a sister's fondness : " my darling, why have' wrote a line to Evelyn, saying that she was 1 you rim so fast and exhausted. yourself now, summoned to attend the sick bed of a friend, when von wish and need most to be bright and , her old emnpanion, Alice. and wishing her, at well will von never learn prtidence, though:- I the saute time, the purest happiness earth can less Evelyn. I shall not let you stir now tm til bestow. Volt are quite, quite rested : for. see here ;are I In a few weeks Walter and Evelyn were !Aar-. flowers enough to make a perfect bower of your 1 tied little room " Oh yes, T am quite ready : and since you twist leave so soon, T shill be very glad to go. I shall he so much happier there among th e ost who Itiew our dtt n • Chalks.- AcTordingly, a few days found Evelyn settled as an inmate in the house of Mr. Clare, the aged man of Goil whom we mentioned as having been the first to establish an Episcopal church in the little town of , while William. who I.,nged to escape from all society. and nerve his 01111 , 1 for the performance of that promise, whi.•lt yet weighed heavily on his heart, tvas g oing as a missionary among. the Indians. Often would he reproach himself (hat he could turn front the finnl, tender, passionate love of Evelyn, and sigh for a heart that had east hint (ii forever. '• I will go a•.vay. — Ito said to his poor strug cling heart. " I will go among the fled Men of the woods. and there, in solitude, and amid the vastness of nature, I will learn to school my heart I will bury her image m the pathless woods: and return a new man. Alas! how vain the effort to flee front that which we carry within is ; to seek 'mid change of scene for that which we can never find—forgetfulness. NUMBER 20, Mabel was right in chiding the imprudent gi I. for in a few moments the glow had faded from her cheek, and was succeeded by a deadly paleness : Mabel ran for water, and just arrived in time to catch her sinking from as she fell faint and breathless upon a couch. I am a poor, weak child." she said softly ; " but I shall soon be better. Mabel, darling.' i — A sweet, grateful smile played over her delicate features as Mabel tenderly kissed her and smoothed back the soft,aulturn ringlets. A few hours passed, and they were all seated in the little flower decked parlor awaiting Wit liam's•return, save Mable—she had escaped into the garden and seating herself in the shadiest corner, her thoughts flew back to the time when she, too, was happy in the blessedness of lovo ; unconsciously her lips moved and breathed in low, impassioned accents the name that was ever in her heart. " I am here, dertrEvelyn." said a voice close beside her, whose tones made her heart leap and her pulses thrill : she turned quickly—and Walter Lee stood before lice. One moment, aild they were clasped in each other's arms : the long hoarded love of years seemed all to flow out, in that close, silent, pas sionate embrace, the next—and Mabel's heart recalled with a pang as keen as death, his first words. A cold shudder crept over her. " Walter speak !" she almost gasped forth : " tell me. tell me iruty, what have you to do with, Evelyn 1" I am her affianced husband,'' he said, in those low, despairing tones that tell of a crushed and broken spirit ; but yon, Mabel, why are you here ; you, the proud and titled wife of a noble: say, beautiful vision, why have you come to mock me in this trying hour-4o take from me all my firm resolves, and to light again the fire that thr so long has smouldered in my poor, desolate 'heart. Oh, Mabel, Mabel, why were you false 1" At first, a bitter, piercing cry was her only answer. " Walter, at length she said, with tearful accents, for six long, weary years I have thought and wept and dreamed of only thee : sheep WIIS filled with visions so bliss ful of thy dear pregence, that I dreaded the awakening, and yet, you could doubt me—ah, how little can man's heart know of the depth, the devotedness, the unchanging constancy of woznan's love." Mabel, you wrong me : indeed you wrong me. I did not doubt you, even th,..., (t h limn: months of utter silence, until there came that cruel letter signed by your father, and sent by your request, to tell of your marriage ; yes, the words burnt into my heart like letters of fire. and can never, never be erased. How could I but Odin: it true, in spite of all my faith, 6inco it hove your father's seal 1" With mute anguish Mabel heard this new re velation of her fuller's sinful tyranny ; she could hardly believe that he was capable of such meanness and guilt she could not corn ! prebend the absorbing nature of that eager grasi 111!4 for power that has led men to wade through the blood even of near relatives to math the objects of their desire. Then Walter spoke of their beloved friend, !lame, of Ins death, so sodden at the last. thotq:ll lung expected ; and Mabel knew, though nu such Mini , : were spoken, that it was her father's letter which had hastened the final blow, cONCIY1117,1) m TIIE•Sr.COND rAgr.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers