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BY GARDNER & BARROW.
THE GEORGIA USIRROR,
Is published every Friday, in Florence,
Stewart county, Ga. at THREE DODLARSi a
vear, if paid in advance, or FOUR DOLLARS,
if not paid until the end ot the year.
Advertisements will be conspicuously inserted
at One Dollar per square, (15 lines) the first, and
50 cents for each subsequent insertion. Nothing
uu dcr 15 lines will be considered less than a
square. A deduction will be mqfle for yearly ad
vertisements.
All advertisements handed in for publication
without ■» limitation, will fo*s published till forbid,
and charged accordingly.
Sales ol Land and Negroes by Executors, Ad
ministrators and l*u' nliaus, are required by law
to be advertised „i a public Gazette, sixty duvs
previews to '’ ie ( | ;(V of sale.
-I* lo Uale of Personal property must be adver
tise' 1 m like manner forty days.
Notice to Debtors and Creditors of an estate
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the
Court of Ordinary for leave to sell Land and Ne
groes, must be published weekly for four months.
AH Letters on business must be dost
Fiio to insure attention.
JOB Bl» INTiNG
CONNECTED with the office of the Aim
s' ROK, is a splendid assortment of
Am! we are enabled to exeute all kind of Job work,
in the neatest manner and at the shortest notice.
■M --4*. A*: *
of every description will constantly be kept on
baud, such as
INDICTMENTS,
DECLARATIONS,
SDKPCK.WS,
JURY' SIMMONSES,
EXECUTIONS.
COST EXECUTIONS.
SHERIFF S BILLS OF SALE,
do DEEDS,
LAND DEEDS,
JUS. SI AMMONSES,
do EXECUTIONS,
Mortgages,
LET. A D IIM STR ATION,
do TESTAMENTARY',
do GUARDIANSHIP,
And a great many others for Justices of the
Peace, Administrators, Executors, Arc.
AN ACT
mo incorporate the town of Florence, in the
a county of Stewart, and appoint Commis
sioners for i he same :
S.<;c. 1. Be it marled by the. Senate and House
A litpresi r.talices of the State of Georgia, in gen
' ! ■ .-ably met, and it is hereby enacted In/ the
authority ■>/ the saute, That from and after the pas
sive of this act. Asaph R. Hill,Thomas Gardner,
Asel P. Rood, Joseph M. Miller and Benjamin
(i.irduer are hereby appointed Coin itissioaer.s for
the To\vn.of Florence, in the county of Stewart,
and they, ora majority of them, and their succes
sors in otlice, shall have power ui.d authority to
pass all laws and ordinances which they, or a ma
jority of them may deem expedient and necessary
tor the well government and good order of said
Town: Provided, said bye-laws and regulations
are not repugnant to the Constitution and Laws
oi this State.
■Sec. 2. And lie it further enacted by the author
it it <\f the same, That on the first Saturday in Jan
uary, the year eighteen hundred and thirty-eight,
and in each and every year thereafter, all free
white male persons in the corporate limits of said
town of Florence, as hereafter prescribed and lim
ited, who arc entitled to vote lbr Members to the
■Nate Legislature, shall assemble at the Commis
sioners’ room in said town, and by ballot elect five
commissioners who shall continue in office for one
year, and until their successors are elected, at
which election ope or more magistrates shall pre
side; and incase of resignation, removal or death
ol any of said Commissioners, tit' remaining
Commissioners shall have power to fill such va
cancy for the time being.
Sec. 3. And be it further enacted, by the authori
'*// aforesaid, That the corporate authority and ju
risdiction of said Commissioners shall include the
whole of lot No. ninety and all of fractions Nos.
eighty-nine and eighty-eight.
Skc. 4. And be it further enacted by the authori
ty aforesaid, That the said Commissioners shall
lay and collect a tax for the support of said town.
Sue. 5. And be it further enacted by the author
d.'/ aforesaid. That the inhabitants of said Town
idmll be free from road duty without the limits of
Hai<l Corporation. All laws and parts of laws mil
against this act be and the same arc hereby
repealed.
JOSEPH DAY,
Speaker of the House of Representatives.
' ROBERT 31. ECHOLS,
President of the Senate.
Assented to, 14th December, 1837.
GEORGE R. GILMER, Governor.
Secretary of State’s Office, £
MillcdgeriUe, 19<A April. 1838 y
1 certify tl at he foregoing is a true copy from
the original ( f fi : in this office.
Given undir my hand and seal of office.
\Y3I. A. TENNILLE,
6 Secretary of State.
FOR SALE.
|\N accommodating terms, a fine young ALile,
" ' perfectly gentle, works well in the wagon
er plough. For further particulars apply to the
■ übseriber at Pleasant Grove one and a half miles
Florence. FRANKLIN COWAN.
May 11,1839 "t 7
wiiß®a&3»&jns ©ns,
TIIE GAME OF CHESS.
( Concluded.)
If Miss Leigh ever appeared lovely and fasci
nating—it she ever appeared to be all that a wo
man should be, it was for the fortnight that suc
ceeded the demolition of the pyramid; and Hor
ace Chauncey at length surrendered himself to
the force of her attractions. And yet his heart
had not the perfect consent of his judgment or
rather, he feared that it his judgment were per
fectly well informed, its sentence would be against
bun. “And yet, what have I to Oar?” thought
he. “The strong attachment of her friends speaks
volumes in her praise, even did she nc-d such tes
timony in her favor. And do 1 not, myself, con
stantly witness the vigor of her intellect—the cor
rectness of her opinions—the delicacy of her feel
iugs—the tenderness of her sympathies ? What
can I ask more ? Where else can I find as much ?"
He sighed deeply as he added—“. Mrs. Atkins
spoke tiutli—l have become fastidious. lam ex
pecting that perfection on earth-which i- to be
found only in heaven. And am I so perfect my
self as to have a right to expect perfection in a
wife ? Alas, how many defects wiil ><>•.; have to
overlook in me, Augusta, should \\>u ever be
mine! and mine you must be ! I can—l will hesi
tate no longer! This very evening you shall
know the wishes of my heart!” lie immediate
ly opened his writing-desk, filled a page with the
avowal of his attachment, and closed by the offer
of his hand.
Oil entering his friends’s parlor in the evening,
Air. Chauncey found the young ladies engaged
at chess; Mr. Atkins seated by them, watching
the progress of the game, while Mrs. Atkins was
occupied with a book in another part of the room,
lie was so often with them, that he came in and
went out almost like one of the family, so that a
bow and a “good evening” were all iliat was ne
cessary before he mingled in the group, and be
came a participator in whatever was on hand
He now stationed himself behind Miss Leigh’s
chair, and fastened his eyes on the clie.-s board.—
For some time, however, he could not fix his mind
on the game, so much were his thoughts engros
sed by the important letter that seemed to burn
in his pocket.
“Our fair friends arc so equally matched,” said
Mr. Atkins,’ “that there is much interest in watch
ing the Contest.”
“Have you frequently played since you have
been here?” inquired Air. Chauncey.
“Very seldom,” 31iss Leigh replied.
“I thought so,” said Mr. Chauncey, “or I must
before this have found jou thus engaged ”
“They played last evening,” said 31 r. Atkins,
“and had a warmly contested battle.”
“And who was conqueror ?” asked 31r. Chaun
cey.
“O, Augusta,” said Miss Eustace, looking up,
“but much against my will, 1 assure you. 1 nev
er tried harder for victory in mv life.”
“Then you bore your defeat admirably,” said
Mr. Atkins. “For my part, I thought you quite
indifferent about it, you appeared so well satisfied
after you had yielded the contest.”
“O, yes,— after I had yielded,” said 31 css Eus
tace. “The time of trial, you know ,is when one
fears that they shall be obliged to yield. After
all, there is about as much satisfaction hi being
beaten as in beating; for one can scare"*/ help
sympathizing with an antagonist who lias fought
bravely but unsuccessfully.”
“1 am happy to learn that you so much enjoy
being beaten,” said 3liss Leigh, smiling.
“You think I shall soon have (hat o.ijoymcnt
again ?” said 31 iss Eustace, “and I shall, indeed,
unless I pay more attention to the gam .”
For a full hour from this time they ma le their
moves in perfect silence—victory sometimes lean
ing to the one side, sometimes to the otlu r Tim
two gentlemen were as much interested as the fan
antagonists; but they had taken differ at sides—
Air. Atkins’sympathies all being enlisted for Miss
Eustace—3lr. Chauncey’s, of course, for Aliss
Leigh. Both, however, were too gentlemanly to
express their feelings by word or sign. But at
length the game seemed drawing to a ( lose, and
again in Miss Leigh’s favor, when a skilful move
on Miss Eustace’s part, turned the whole face of
the battle. Miss Leigh, however, seemed not a
ware of it, so intent was she on the mancevre she
had been performing. But Mr. Chauncey’s heart
beat quick, as he saw all her danger; and when
she plaeed her fingers on a piece, to have moved
which would have decided her fate at once, his
self-commanded forsook him, and uttering an em
phatic. “Ah!” he turned suddenly from the table.
He could not endure to witness her defeat!
Miss Leigh suspended her movement, but she
was too much excited to sec clearly, and alter a
momentary pause, she made the fatal move. The
next instant she saw her error—it was too much-.-
and at the moment when 3lr. Chauncey resumed
his post, with a flaming cheek and flashing eyes,
she swept her a'rm across the table, exclaiming—
“l will never play another game of chess while
I live!”
31iss Eustace looked up with an expression of
ahxiety on her features; Mr. Atkins with one of
undisguised displeasure ; while the countenance
of Mr. Chauncey spoke amazement and conster
nation. Miss Leigh instantly left the table, and
walked toward the fire, followed by Miss Eus
tace.
“Who is the victor to-night, Abby ?” inquired
3lrs. Atkins, raising her eyes from her book.
“Neither,”" said Miss Eustace, in a very solt
and low tone; “we did not finish the game.”
“Youkno\V better, Miss Eustace!” said 3liss
Leigh ; “you know you were yourself victorious,
and I will never play another game of chess w hile
I live!” Her voice, though but slightly raised,
had the tone of passionato excitement; and her
w ords were scarcely uttered, ere she burst into a
paroxism of tears. Miss Eustace again looked up
with an expression of distress—stood suspended
a moment as if in doubt what to do, and then si
lently left the room.
I “Are you petrified?” said 3lr Atkins, asbe turned
FLORENCE, GA. FRIDAY, MAY 23, 1838.
round, and observed 3lr. Chauncey, standing im
moveable beside the chess-table, liis eves rivctvd
upon it,
Ihe question of 3lr. Atkins roused him, and
drawing out his watch, he said, while his voice be
trayed much emotion—
“lt is later than I thought—l must bid you
good night!” ,
“< >, not yet, Horace,” said Mr. Atkins. ‘fThat
unlucky game of chess lias engrossed the whole
evening.. Come, sit down. Susan will throw a
side her bock—Augusta will get over her defeat—
and w e will have some rational conversation.”
“\ou will excuse me this evening,” said 3lr.
Chatineey, slid uttering a hasty “good night,” he
left the room.
Jfc was scarcely conscious of any thing until
he found himscil m lus own chamber at his board
ing house. Storing the decaying embers that lav
on the heartlt to make tlnqn burn more brightly,
lie snatched the lately written letter from his pock
et. and laid it upon them, lie watched it as it
consumed, until the jart particle was reduced to
asn-'s, and then, drawing a long breath, lie uttered
an emphatic—“ Thank heaven!”
An hour afterwards he rang the bell for a ser
vant, gave some directions, and at five the next
morning, while the stars were vet bright in the
lieuveue he took a seat in the mail-coach, that
whirled him rapidly away from the scene of ins
danger.
“Y hat has become of 3lr. Chauncey?” inquir
ed 31 rs. Atkins, the second evening after the de
cisive game of chess had been played—“He is
staying from us much longer than usual, I think.”
Miss Leigh looked up with a face of anxious
inquiry, as Mr. Atkins replied—
“lndeed i don’t know what has become of him.
I have not had a sight of him since Tuesday eve
ning. Perhaps,” he added, laughing, perhaps he
died ul the fright you that night gave him, Au
gusta!”
Coloring the deepest crimson, while the tears
forced tneinselves to her eyes, 31iss Leigh re
plied—
“At least my hasty temper will frighten all
your friends from your house, 3lr. Atkins, shouid
its effects not prove any more fatal. U, could my
friends know luiw much mv ungovernable pas
sions cost me, they would tat a as much as they
blame me!”
do not talk of it, dear Augusta,” said 3liss
Eustace, taking her hand. “Forget it all, as we
do—or remember it only to strive after more self
command for the future. You remember how
mill'll we admired the sentiment we read yester
day—
‘tjui salt so posseder pent commander an monde,’
“U, yes—but all my efforts at self-possession
are u.-cless,” said Aliss Leigh, almost sobbing—
“l can never remember till it is too late; and then
mortification and self-upbraiding are my just re
wind. 1 would give tlie world, Abby,” she ad
ded, as she parted the hair from her Irieiuls's pla
cid brow— “1 would give the world, had 1 your
equanimity of temper!”
“Well, let us talk no more of it,” saiJ 3lr. At
kins. “To-morrow 1 will look after the truant,
a . I learn the cause of liis absence.”
tie had scarcely done speaking, when a servant
brought in the letters and papers which had just
arrived hy the until. Looking them over, 3lr.
Atkins caught up one, exclaiming*—
“This is curious!—this must be Horace’s hatid
writiug, and the post mark is Boston !”
“Pray open it,” cried Mrs. Atkins—“ What
does he say ?”
“Why, he says,” answered Air. Atkins, after
rapidly running ih letter over—♦‘lie says that lie
writes to bid us a ‘good-live,’ that he could not
come to utter in his own person.”
“Good-bye!” cried Mrs. AUius—“pray when
did he iea\ e town ?”
“At five the next morning after he left us,” said
31 r. Ai kins.
“And how long is he to be absent ?” Mrs. At
kins inquired.
“Uncertain,” answered her hu.hand. “The
length ol ins absence will depend ou circumstances.
Perhaps we shall not see him again these three
months.”
“This is very singular!” remarked Airs. Atkins.
“Does he say what called him away in such liastc,
to be gone torso long a period !”
“Not a word. The letter seems to have been
w ritten in great haste. I have never seen such a
scroll come from beneath Horace’s hand. He must
have been in great haste.”
3lr. Atkins then proceeded to open other letters,
and nothing further was said of Mr. Chauncey, or
his abrupt departure. Vet a glance at the faces of
the trio of ladies would have proved that the sub
ject was not dismissed from their thoughts. 3lrs.
Atkins, with half-closed eyes, sat looking at the
fire, with an air of abstraction which showed that
she was endeavoring to unravel the enigma. Miss
Leigh’s features wore an expression of blank dis
appointment; and after an unsuccessful attempt
to conceal or control her feelings, she retired to
her chamber. The heightened color in Aliss Eus
tace's cheek was the only thing about tier face flint
bespoke emotion; but an eye, fixed intently on
the frill that fell over her bosom, would have
seen with what force and rapidity her heart was
beating.
“Gone!” said Miss Leigh, as she closed the
door of her chamber; “Gone for three months!
From me—forever! The die is cast!” She wept
in the bitterness of disappointment and mortifica
tion. She had for many days been hourly expect
ing the offer of liis hand—tlie hand she most
strongly w ished to possess. She had felt confident
of hia attachment—she had told her cousin of her
expectations. She had read his affection, his ad
miration, in his eyes, in the tone of his voice.—
Had she been deceived! Had he tried to deceive
her ? O, no—Horace Chauncey was above deceit.
He had loved her! —but like a fool—or rather,
like a fury, she had forced him from her ! It must
have been so—that game of chess had sealed her
tkte! Such was the train of thought that accom
panied her tumultuous and i ptnpun.' ious feelings.
let-pence, her happiness, her self-respect were
gone; and the ujo>t bitter drop in her cup of sor
row, was the foil consciousness that she had
brought on her own misery—that she deserved her
tv retched ness !
1 rom this period, all enjoyment of her visit to
Mrs. Atkins was at an end.’ She dragged out a
w » ek or two, every solitary moment of which was
spent in bitter sclf-ujibrading, and then took an
abrupt departure for home. Jlis« Eustace would
bate aeeompained her, but to this Mrs. Atkins
would not listen for a moment. “No, no, Abby,”
said she; “it must not be! 1 cannot part with you
both at once : and one day must not be taken from
the time that your mother allotted for your visit,
unless by providential appointment.
“\\ horn suppose von I taw alighting from the
stage-coach just now?” said Mr. Atkins with
much animation, as ho cairn* in to tea one evening,
about a forinight after Miss Leigh’s departure.
“Horace (’hauuccv,” said Airs. Atkins.
“Horace Chauncey !” repeated Air. Atkins—
“ How came you to think of him ?”
“Because there is no one likely to arrive here,
whom 1 should be so glad to see,” Airs. Atkins
replied.
“Well, you are correct in your conjecture,”
said Mr. Atkins. “It was Horace, and lie lias
promised to look in upon us for a few minuses in
the course of the evening. But you need not
look so much moved, Abby; for I dare say
nothing will happen to d.ive him away to
night.”
“ There is nothing pleasant in the recollection
of the last time I saw him," said Aliss Eustace.
She blushed as slm was speaking at the disiugen
nousness which led her to permit Air. Atkins to
ascribe her emotion to a wrong cause. She felt
as if,
“L'art le plus innocent, tient de la perfidie.”
But it was not art—it was nature. The love in a
woman s heart likes not to be looked upon, at least
not until it may with propriety be expressed. It
is a little treasure which stlc feels to lie all her own;
a treasure she lias a right to conceal from all eyes.
J imidity, delicacy natural female reserve, are the
<niuses of tlu.- concealment, rather than want of
in tie nuousf less. In the most perfect solitude she
would blush to doth-.' in sound the words “I love,”
though slie ringht constantly lie conscious of the
fact— constantly have her eye fixed on the image
of the beloved object engraven on her heart.—
'The woman who can, til a third person,’ speak
In dy of her love, loves not as woman is capable
of loving!
As expected, Mr. Chauncey came in before the
evening was far advanced,and though on his first ap
p ara; cc, his manner was not quite as t aint ; n 1 col
fected as usual, his embarrassment soon wore away,
and liis visit, instead of being one of a few min
utes, was lengthened to it couple of hours.
“You need no new invitation to favor us with
frequent visits, Mr. Chauncey,” said Mrs. Atkins,
as he was taking leave; those you formerly re
ceived were for life.”
Notwithstanding tlie kindness and delicacy of
this remark, Mr. Chauueey for a while was less
frequently to be seen at his friend’s than formerly.
He was not a pining lover; but he had received a
shock from which he could not at once recover,
liis was not a heart that could long continue to
love, after the beloved object had ceased to com
mand his respect. To marly Miss Leigh, to look
to her to make his home the abode of peace, se
renity, and joy, was impossible; and after this full
conviction of his judgment, to spend his time in
sighing for her loss would be puerile. Yet apart
from every selfish consideration, he did mourn,
that a woman g .ssessing such qualities as she pos
sessed, and who might be all that the heart or the
judgment could require, should be spoiled by the
indulgence of one baneful passion.
Even at the time when he yielded himself most
completely to Aliss Leigh's attractions, the con
trast between her temper and that of Miss Eus
tace would force itself upon him. At the moment
of the destruction of the pyramid, the feather
screen came fully before his memory, and the dif
ferent expressions of the two young ladies’ faces,
when Air. Atkins ventured to propose some im
provement in the mode of wearing their riding
caps, were vividly ;>■ tnted to his imagination. He
strove, however, to persuade himself, that it was
unreasonable to expect in one persona combina
tion of all the excellent and lev « ly qualities that
are divided among the sex ; and he endeavored to
believe, that candor which was so ready to acknow l
edge a fault, was even more desirable than uniform
sweetness of temper. But the veil bad been rude
ly torn from his eyes; liis sophistry had all been
overthrown—and after one struggle, he was hint
self again—restored to the full conviction, that
one great defect will spoil a character.
' It wasnoHong, however, before Mr. Chauncey’s
visits at his friend's house were as frequent as ever,
though the character of his enjoyment was chan
ged. He was no longer engrossed by one exciting
object, and there was anew quietness breathing
about his friend’s fire-side, that rendered their
rich moral and intellectual pleasures truly delight
ful. Formerly his visits had had all the excite
ment of pleasure; on returning home he had
needed repose; now they had the soothing effect
of happiness, and if lie went weary, he returned
home refreshed.
Durin g several of his earlier visits, Miss Eustace
was as silent as she had formerly been ; but grad
urlly her friends were drawing her out by addres
sing themselves to her,or asking her opinion;and
Mr. Chauncey himself was becoming interested
in eliciting her remarks. She did not awaken his
admiration, like Miss Leigh; but he soon became
sensible, that if w hat she said was less shining, it
was generally better digested ; and if she had less
wit herself, she more heartily enjoyed the wit of
others. If he did not leave her society dazzled by
her brilliancy, he foun t that w hat she said called
forth thought and reflection ; and if her observa
tions had less force and fire-tl an her friend’s, they
would better hear examination. Her lustre was
mild, not overpowering; and her influence upon
the heart and mind, like the dews of a summer’s
VoL. I. N«. 9.
evening descending on the flowers—noiseless, gen'
te, inseiisibb—-but invigorating and refresh
“•g-
That dreamy n collection, too—that strange as
sociation of certain expressions of her counten
ance with some bygone pleasure, which he had c.x
perieuded on their first acquaintance, but which
had been lost sight of while lie was engrossed by
Aliss Leigh, was returning with increased force
upon him, and awakened a peculiar iutesest. It
was something undefinabie, untaugible; but still
something that gave a throb to the heart whenever
it crossed him. Yet so quiet was Miss Eustace’s
influence ; so different the feelings she awakened
from those excited by Aliss Leigh, that his heart
was a captive while he yet suspected not his less
of freedom.
One rvf>nm? on entering his friend's parlor, he
found Aliss Eustace alone, Mr. and Mrs. Atkins
having gone out for an hour. She was standing
at a window, partially screened from view by the
heavy folds of the window-curtain. She took no
notice of lii.s entrance, supposing it one of tlm
family who came in; but he immediately joined
her remarking—
“i’ou seem lost in thought, Miss Eustace.—
Will you permit me to participate in your reflec
tions ?”
“I was looking forth on the beauties of the even
ing,'* said Aliss Eustace.
It was a glorious night. The moon, clear as a
pearl, was riding high in the heavens, and looking
downjoti the earth, seemed hushed to perfect peace;
and every star could make itself visible in the pres
ence of the queen of night, was sparkling like a
diamond,
“It is indeed a night to awaken admiration, and
inspire poetry,” said Mr. Chauncey. “Has ru.-t
the muse visited you ?"
“I believe not,” said Miss Eustace. “The
influence of such a night on my heart is like iha’
of music; 1 think it is feeling not thought, that it
inspires. O, could one communicate feelings
without the intervention of- words—could thoy
throw them on paper without the mechanical
drudgery of expressing them, what a volume would
tin relic to read!” She raised her lace towards him
while speakiug, beaming with the inspiration of the
soul.
~Wlio is it! what is it! that you are perpetually
bringing athwart my imagination—my memory?”
sal.« Mr. Chauncey, abruptly. “1 seem to have
had pre-existence, in which you were known to
me!”
Aliss Eustace made no reply. T lie suddenness
of the question made heart beat fumultory—pain
fully ; and intensity of her; feeling produced
a sensation of faintness; but she supported her*
self against the window-frame, and her agitation
was unnoticed.
“I have it—that must be it!” exclaimed Mr.
Chauncey, after a moment’s abstraction—“Gcu
Gardner .'—Years ago, when quite a boy, 1 spent
a w eek at his house. He had a lovely little daughter
leer name, too, was Abby—l have neither seen nor
heard from her since; but she strongly resembled
you ! The same lovely expression animated her
features! Am I not right?”
Scarcely able to command voice enough to
speak, Aliss Eustace replied—“l believe Gen.
Gardner never had a daughter.”
“O, you must be mistaken said Mr. Chaun
cey. “It has all come as fresh to my memory as
the events of yesterday. My father went a long
journey, took uie w ith him as far as the General’s
and left me until liis return. I was with his lovely
little daughter, daily, for a week; and remember
asking her before 1 came away, if she would not
be my wife when she became a woman!”
“Most true !” thought Miss Eustace, trembling
from head to foot, “and you followed the question
by a kiss.”
“Y'ou are acquainted w ith t! e General’s family ”
continued Mr. Chauncey, “and yet you say he
never had a daughter! 15ut you must be mista
ken ! lie certainly had one tlien, if lie lias one no
longer!”
“I cannot be mistaken, sir,” said Miss Eus
tace, in tones that were scarcely audible, “as
I have passed much of my time there from in
fancy.”
“Then it was yourself,” cried Mr. Chauncey,
“your own self that I saw there! Am I not right ?.
Do you not remember it ?”
“I do,” Miss Eustace had just voice enough to
utter.
“And did you remember me w hen we first met
here ?” inquired Air. Chauncey, with eager
ness.
“I did,” said Miss Eustace.
“And why,” he cried, “why did you never
speak of our former acquaintance ? Why could
you not kindly recall my early enjoyment of your
society ?”
Miss Eustace could make no answer. Sh* felt
as if about to betray her heart’s most hidden se
cret ; ns if Air. Chauncey would read her whole
soul, should she attempt to utter a syllable. Her
trembling limbs could no longer support her, and
with an unsteady motion she crossed the room,
and seated herself on the sofa.
The attachment of Miss Eustace to Mr. Chaun
cey was rather an instinct than a passion. She
w as but eight years old w hen she met him at Gen.
Gardner’s, and she had never seen him since, until
they met at Mr. Atkins’ ; yet tlie little attentions
he then paid her, which were the very first she
had received from one of the other sex, and which
had peculiar delicacy for the attentions of a youth
of sixteen, made an indelible impression on her
feelings. The strange question lie asked her was
ever awake in her heart—the kiss he imprinted
ever warm on her cheek ! She would have felt it
profanation to have had it displaced by one from
any other lips. But though she had never sinen
seen, she had very frequently Jhcard of him ; and
the sound of his name, a name she herself never
uttered, was ever music to her car; and for the
ten lung years during w hich they had been separa
ted, his image had filled her whole soul. For Ab
by Eustace to have loved another would have bee**
impossible! Her love for Horace Chauncey 1*43 %
part of her very being!