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day found her as firm in her affection as
when she had braved him and gone to her
room a captive daughter. Occasionally
she met her lover, —sometimes she would
catch a glimpse of him as he passed the
house, and his smile and brightening coun
tenance were “crumbs of comfort,” she
carefully and thankfully gathered, to
store away until they met again. Little
dreamed she that her father was watch
ing her closely, that he had been near her
when accidentally young Norman would
cross her path and, that he had seen his
look of delight, his eager glance, when as
he passed the door he caught sight of
Emily at the window. In spite of him
self he admired their forbearance, their
perfect honesty of purpose. He knew
that no appointments had been made;
that she did not watch his coming and
going—he saw they were yet as strong
of heart as ever, and still he dared to hope
that Time would bury the feeling in mu
tual oblivion. They merited something
more than he had given them—they w r ere
both perfectly respectful to him, their
actual persecutor, and he could advance
nothing against their union but prejudice.
Friends had remonstrated with him,
shown him the folly, the childishness of
such an objection; and the mortification
he inwardly felt, increased his obstinacy,
and incensed him. He might yield, but
his pride forbade him, and so he went on,
a canker gnawing at his heart and poison
ing his rest.
Christmas was coming, that season of
universal rejoicing, when peace prevails
in every Christian household, throughout
the civilized world. Emily and her
mother were busily preparing their gifts
for the occasion, and making preparations -
for the gathering of old friends, who an
nually met at the house on Christmas
day. Garlands of evergreens were
wreathed around the chandeliers and hung
over the doors. Beautiful exotics bloom
ed in the jardinieres and bouquets of japo
nicas and geraniums filled the vases.—
Emily had arranged them all on Christ
mas eve, and while she and her mother
were glancing around to see that all was
in perfect order, her father was riding
about the city from place to place, select
ing his own offerings for the morrow. lie
was returning home, when, suddenly, a
bunch of fire-crackers went off just under
his horse’s feet. The animal kicked and j
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
plunged madly around, rearing up so
furiously that his rider would have been
thrown upon the pavement, had not a
| powerful hand grasped the reinsand held
down the frightened beast, while he dis
mounted.
Mr. Raymond went gratefully towards
j his preserver, for such indeed he was, as
death would have been his inevitable
| fate had he been thrown upon the stones,
! on which he now stood.
“ You have saved my life sir—l owe
you such gratitude as cannot be express
ed in words.”
“ I thank heaven that I have been the
means of doing so, Mr. Raymond,” was
the reply. “You had better w alk home, as
the horse is too wild to carry you safely
thither.
It w r as Arthur Norman ! Mr. Ray
mond started back as he recognized him,
and seemed for an instant uncertain how
to act, but extending his hand to the
young man, returned the hearty grasp
with which it was received, a smile break
ing over his face.
“ Come to me to-morrow morning, Mr.
Norman. I shall be glad to see you.”
And walking away, he left his com
panion, overwhelmed with joy at the for
tunate accident by which he had been
enabled to save the life of Emily’s father.
********
The next morning dawned brightly—
Emily was up, and off to church when her
father went down into the library to or
der a fire as he expected a visitor. On
her return a servant called her, to say
that she was expected in the parlour. Her
father had sent for her. Down she ran
after getting her bonnet off, and as he
came to meet her, she threw her arms
around him wishing him a “Merry Christ
mas and a long, long life to enjoy many
more.”
“ And what sort of a Christmas gift do
you expect to day, Miss Emmy ]” said
he patting her cheek.
“ Oh! a splendid one of course,” said
she gaily. “A gossamer veil, an India
cashmere, a diamond bracelet, or the
Koh-i-noor itself.” “ Well we shall see
whether you value my gift as well as any
of these.” “ Let me sec,” taking out his
watch, “ it is now nine o’elook and not a
soul has had breakfast yet.”
“Is it possible ! Is my mother ill ?
You did not wait for me surely,” cried
Emily.
“ Indeed we did, and I am now goW
to call in the company we expect to
breakfast, that you may make your ex
cuses.”
fie threw open the folding doors, and
there stood her mother, Mr. James, the
clergyman, and Arthur Norman!
She grew pale and dizzy, but her father
placed her arm in his and led her to her
lover. “ Here, my darling, is the Christ
mas gift 1 offer you. Through my fault
your happiness has been too long delay
ed, and I do not intend that you shall
be separated any longer from the man
you love. Take her Arthur, and mav
God bless you. Mr. James, will you
make these two, man and wife. Every,
thing is settled, I have the license, and
nothing is to prevent them from remain
ing together for life.”
Emily trembled violently, but answer
ed in a clear sweet voice, growing more
calm as the ceremony proceeded. Her
father gave her away with much emotion,
and her gentle mother wept silent tears
of joy ; but all felt how safely these two,
now united, could depend upon one anoth
er for happiness, as perfect as earth can
give.
There was a merry party that evening
at Mr. Raymond’s, and many a wonder
ing look as he presented his married
daughter to his assembled friends. No
one could find fault with the bride and
groom, in spite the absence of wedding
fuss and preparation, for one w T as as beau
tiful, and the other as noble looking, as
any of God’s creatures.
“ This has been a happy Christmas in
deed, father,” said Emily as leaning on
her husband’s arm she stood before him
after the guests were gone. “ This day
three months ago, I knelt at your feet
to beg your consent to my marriage, and
now together we kneel and ask your
blessing upon the children whose happi
ness you have kindly and generously
promoted.”
They knelt before him and with emo
tion that he cared not to conceal, Mr.
Raymond blessed them solemnly, bid
ding them love one another through life,
as they had done in all this sorrow, nobly,
wisely and unselfishly.
Spring hill, Dec. 11< A, 1851.
New Definition of Debt. —“The D
elilah lap of a pecuniary obligation.’
[Jan. I?,