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PUBLISHED BY JAMES GARDNER.
NEW SERIES ]
%A THOUGHT.
The roa*. that’s bent with snuimer rain,
Or fillea with early dew,
Shed* richer perfume o’er again,
And glows with lovelier hne. •
The pearly drops that light within
Its leafy chaliefe rest,
lint fresher beauties for it win
Its fragrant charms attest.
•
So, hearts bowed down by weight and care,
# Or trashed by bitter grei£
Show clearer what their virtues are,
While waiting for relief;
Each tender sigh is sweet that springs
From hearts by sorrow riven;
If on its parting breath it brings
Some dearer hope of Heaven.
TifE STORYTELLER
[Written for the* Southern Field and Fireside.]
“SHE’S A CONCH; 1 *
OH
WHICH IS THE HEROINE f
CHAPTER IV.
The light of a taper made objects dimly
visible iu the room where Norah lay, with
Wilma watching by her beside. It was iu the
dead of night, when the slightest whisper was
heard distinctly above the stillness. Col. Gen
nerat, worn out with many sleepless nights,
lay upon a couch in the room in complete ob
livion to all around.
“ See,” cried Norab, fuintly, yet in excite
ment, ''look on your shoulder Wilma.”
Wilma did not scream, but exclaimed under
her breath—
“Oh, God! what a 'orrid creature," and alio
dashed off a hnge insect common in that sec
tion of country, and quite poisonous. ,Sbe
crushed it witu her loot, and when she retook
her seat, Norah's hot band was laid upon
hers.
“Oh, Wilma,” said the sad voice, “do you
not reverence your Maker ?”
Wilma did not answer, but tised her eyed in
wonder upon Norah’s face.
“Say," continued Norab, “do yon not fear
and love the Divine Being who continually
blesses you, do yon not tremble to take His
name in vain t"
“Did Ido that?” asked the simple child of
nature.
“Poor wanderer," cried Norah, in pitying
accents. “ Dear girl* your tender caro of me has
I made you very dear to me. I would sacrifice
more to save you from Bin than you have done,
to do this poor frail body of mine a service. If I
could bring you to the knowledge of Christ,
you wtyild not need another grace. Do you
not love Him?”
“No ma’m,” was the candid reply.
Norah could not forbear a groan.
“Don't," cried out Wilma, “ I can’t bear for
| you to ’ate me, but*l can’t tell huntruths, even
if I lose.your love."
j Tbe tears which bad spreed themselves frem
out Norah’s eye*, unlocked the fountain .of
Wilma’s emotions—they bureL forth thus:
“ I don’t know ’ow to love God. I ates the
singing which they used to tell mo was prais
| ing God, such screaming it was; and the pray
i ing, I could not and would not try, w'en that
haunt of mine used to pray so loud and cry so
loud, and then was so wicked with 'er tongue
every day. Miss Norsb, if you’ll teach me to
love God like you d», I’ll try to love Him.”
Norah lifted up her heart silently to the
throne of grace, and received strength to go
oh. The spirit shone out from her dark eyes
as she bent them on Wilma, and divine inspi
ration, made her voice eloquent as she spoke:
“Think dear Wilma, if you bad a friend to
whom you could resign every eare, every
Southern Field and Fireside.
AUGUSTA, GA., SATURDAY, APRIL 25,1863.
weight, and receive from him health, friends,
and every earthly blessing, could you not love
that friend ? Believe me, Jesus Christ i 3 as
willing to-day, to hear your petitions, as when
the thiel on the cross, was not turned away.
Receive the truths of the Bible as you hear the
truth from me. Tou do not believe that I
would tell you what is not true. Wilma, there
is a peace which passed) al# understanding,
which comes from God alone. It is mine, it
may bo yours.”
Large tears slowly dropped from the eyes of
Wilma, but she fixed them still, as if fascinated,
upon Norah’s face.
“ Ili’m too sinful now, teach me to be good
like you, then I’ll look hup too."
Norah’s gentle teaching went on, and so
clearly, that light streamed in through the
long clpsed windows of iho orphan’s soul. Like
the parched bloom taking the cool night dew,
her soul received the heavenly manna; but
stiH there was one blot upon her mind, and No
rah A delicate perception touched upon it. She
said nearly smiling:
“You have a sweet voice, Wilma, and whet
I am well, I will teach you how to praise God
in sounds that will fill yon with rejoicing."
A most willing pupil would Wilma make jf
her eyes told a true tale. A voice and step
broke in startling echoes upuu the stillness,
and Wilma almost screamed out:
“ Where did you como from Dr. Hazleton?”
“ I have been playing eaves-dropper, or ra
ther, I stood close by you, listening to your
conversation. It was involuntary on my part,
but you will not regret it, perhaps, if some
good aecd have fallen by the wayside.”
He did not speak lightly, Norah saw upon
his countenance the traces of awakened feeling,
and her heart bounded with the though that a
word of hers had fallen impressively upon his
ear.
Ralph Hazloton was no moralist, though the
world gave him this title, as well as woman
hater; but his religieus asperations bad never
found voice, his faith no anchor. From this
night there was a new era m his spiritual life,
and to Norah he owed it, that the change was
bearing him nearer to everlasting joy.
The season of gloom passed away, as day by
day strength returned to Norah, and
the danger of Wilma’s taking the disease
was at an end. The vaccination took
well upon her, and the danger of
course was avoided. When Norah was able
to be moved she plead to return to her own
home; but Ralph said “ pot yet.” Sbe had
not seen her own image, or she would not her
self have willingly gone amongst the loved
ones with her bloated, disfigured face. Wil
ma would look upon her (ace, and steal away
to shed bitter tears, and mourn most truly that
she could not have taken upon herself, instead
of Norab, this sad affliction.
It was like a transit from the grave .almost,
when at last, after weeks of delay, Norah was
permitted to be borne along towards her own
home. The air was sweet with fragrance, na
ture was rejoicing on the earth, and in the air
was sweet songsters. Norah enjoyed all this
with a glowing heart, and rejoiced without a
thought of her own blighted bloom.
Alas, for the frailty of human passions. It
was with difficulty that Ralph Hazleton could
bring himself to look a moment upon the face
of Norah. He loved beauty—beauty of soul
and of form—and lovely as Was Norah’s soal,
her once lovely face was now a sad deformity.
He had prepared the family for the change,
and Col. Genneratt had gone homo to await her
coming.
Sbe returned to that love which even defor
mity could not weaken, and though they wept
over thg sacrifice of so much that had been cher
ished, ahe was dearer than ever. Norah was
now their own, her slightest wish tbe law, and
wfcen she claimed a place for Wilma in the family
circle, it was given most heartily. She, who
had so generously and devotedly given her
self to the task of nursing Norah, was indeed
dear to them, and there was nothing galling
to such pride 83 hers in tbeir overflowing
gratitude.
Gradually aud naturally changes come over
tho face of events, ffho acquaintance which
Norah’s illness had opened with Dr. Ilazleten,
grew into warm friendship, and old habits gave
way beneath the genial influences of that fire* |
side circle. The winter evenings often found
him there, when he had heretofore been
alone with his mistress —science. Strange
things camo to pass very naturally, as his be
traying no surprise when the beautifhl Marion
was quietly presented to him.
Time went onward, and each hour a tangled
web was being imperceptibly woven; yet time
still was
“To Wftkc the morn and sentinel tho night; j
To wrong tho wronger, till he rendered right." 1
.' ' i
i
. CHAPTER VI.
On an afternoon in which Ralph was return
ing from a in passing a re
tired and beautifu" shaded nook by the riv
er's border, he saw the Uguro of Millwood aud*
denly emerge from the shaue.
It was nearly dark, but Ralph easily recog
nised him, and called out to him by name. At
the sound Si his voice, Millwood evidently hur
ried onwards and kept very steadily out of
probable hearing distance. Once he gained
upon him enough to sec that for some reason
Millwood kept a handkerchief close to hia tuce,
but in order to continue a rapid course he was
obliged to look ahead, aud Ralph saw that his
eyes were dreadfully iutlamujj.
At this moment, Ralph saw a glimpse of
fluttering garments, through an opening in the
wood, which led out towards the lone beach,
and when sure that he knew the ohtlines of
tho graceful form which disappeared through
the opening, u • dreadful suspicion flashed
through his mind. As if by some miracle, Mill
wood had suddenly disappeared, and irresisti
bly impelled, Ralph followed tho figure out up
on the beach.
Ho did not pauso until close upon the rook
where he had first found Wilma. There she
sat, now on the same spot with her head bow
ed upon her hands, her whole figure convulsed
with bitter weeping. Wilma was conscious of
no presence but the moaning waves, and she
gave back moan fbr moan in complete aban
donment to some long'repressed grief. It was
cruel to be witness to this out-pouring of the
inner life, and none held it in more sanctity
than Ralph. lie mastered some womanly emo
tion, and asked almost sternly: “What does
thia mean, Wilma?”
Sbo sprang up, in wild dismay. “It ia I,”
he said in a gentler tone, “who am anxious
only for your welfare, and the strange circum
stances under which I find you, load mo to
fear for you, that which makes me tremble.”
She bad regained her womanly self posses
sion, and replied with a haughtiness, which in
her unconsciousness of it was attractive.
“ You are at liberty tosuspectoneof wrong,
ven I prove guilty, I)r. Hazleton.”
He was much struck with the alteration
which had taken rlace in hpr language and
manner, since he first met her upon this rock.
The contrast struck him forcibly. He asked
with a probing glance:
“ Were you not in company with Mr. Mill
wood a few minutes since?”
Wilma’s countenance, which had been ex
pressive of the most violent emotions, -under
went a sudden change, and before she replied,
it became calm and clear as sunset glory. She
said simply,—“ I was.”
Ralph was bewildered, and knew not in what
language to address her. Deeply concerned
for her welfare, he could think of nothing but
the contamination to her in the society of Mill
wood.
“ Beware,” be cried again, growing stern. “I
am 8 friend to you, would sacrifice much for
you. Do not trample niy advice under foot,
when I bid you avoid any intimacy with that
young mac. Did he offer you an honorable al-
r
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AT FOUR DOLLARS Per ANNUM.
liance, I would shield you from his power, as
bitterly as now.”
For awhile Wilma seemed to be wavering
between the contending influences of pride, and
conscious rectitude. ?ho longed to tell him
how his suspicions pained her, yet felling her
j situation in melancholy force, she cried out
with nature's eloquence.
"You will nevor, never know my 'art, Dr
Hazleton, nor 'ow wilting It Is to bo bared in
your sight, my friend always. But let me go,”
she continued with a grieving voico, “the time
vill come ven you'll know me better.” •
She was rushing by him, when a sudden
thought seemed to dr. it iier back, aDd forced
i her to ask, whilst her clear browu eyes were
, fixed upon his face—
“Do you think you kuow the story of Ma
I rion?”
“kknow it,” he replied promptly, and as
the usual reserve of his manner returned, she
turned off and hurried away without another
word.
He stood upon the rock, watching her re- *
ceding form, uutil it grew dun in the distance
and obscurity. He felt that he had been in
the presence of purity—of inuoceuce and no
bility. He thought of the powerful attraction
which bad first chained him to the spot, he
felt it still and regretted—what?
That same evening when the lamps were
lit, Norah sat in her own chamber, with no
companion but Wilma They.had laid aside
books and pedgfaud Norah was giving verbal
lessons to her loving pupil, but Wilma was
nervous and inattentive, as she seldom was.
Norah’s quiet discern men t told her that some
wandering, troubled thought, disturbed the
usual serenity ot her pupil, and she spoke no
longer. Silent the two sat-*Wilma thinking
deeply and sadly, when there was a light step
in the room, and the glimmer of while robes
and glistening har told them that it was Ma
rion coming. Soe moved quietly towards them,
motioning tor her constant attendant to leave
her. I stood forawhile looking at the silent pair.
Norah thought she laid never seen her look
so lovely, and she told her so. Wilma thought
there was a kind of triumphant glitter in her
blue eyos that made them repelling, but No
rah did not appear to feel its influence as she
drew her sister fondly towards her.' Marion
knelt before her sister, with her white hands
crossed upon her lap.
“ I have oomo to tell you a strange thing in
my still stranger history,” she said, and gradu
ally her eyes fell beneath Norah’s loving gaze;
“something, sister, that will change all my des
tisy perhaps.”
“Shall 1 go?” asked Wilma, but Marion
without appearing to heed her, continued:
“ I want you to bear ray story to Father
for I cannot bring myself to that humiliation.”
Now Nora Observed die strange glitter of her
eyes. Marion went on “ The one condition
upon which I wap to be released from my
thraldom is fulfilled.''
“How!” asked Nora, with unusual emo
tion, driving the blood from her deeply scarred
cheek. “Rook at me. sister, let there be
no trifling in this matter.”
But Marion would not raise her eyes, as she
continued speaking in the same measured
tones.
“ I have promised to become the wife of one
whom my father seems to honor.” Here her
tone became bitterly sareasatie. “It matters
not'how far my affections are engaged, but it
may be that the gentleman of my choice being
one whom society honors, that we may have a
respectable wedding after all. Will you ask
my father’s consent?” ,
“Are you speaking seriously?” asked No
rah, in great agitation ; “ from your soul an
swer me sister.*’
Marion’s head bent lower, so that the long
quivering lashes lay upon her cheek, and a« she
spoke again her voice grew tremulous with
feeling.
“ Even you, Norab. have come to doubt mv
word. lam indeed cast off.” / j
[VOL I.—NUMBER 17.