The Soldier's Wife — page 20: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“Mr. Redburn’s rage grew ungovernable : his pale sickly countenance became livid, his lips turned ashy white, and he poured forth a volley of abuse, to repeat which would shock your ears. Suffice it to say that he taunted me with my ignorance respecting my parentage—said that he had no doubt I was some beggar’s brat who had been abandoned at Widow Grant’s door— and that instead of being inflated with pride because I w:s able to read and write and had got a smattering of learning, I ought to be ready to fall upon my knees and kiss the ground upon which my betters walked. I listened until he had finished his tirade; and then 1 remonstrated with him upon the impropriety of his conduct. But still I allowed his riding-whip to remain on the ground where he had dropped it. My words, and my demeanor too, I suppose, almost mad- | dened him; and finding that I would not stoop, to pick up his whip he gave vent to the threats which 1 have before described. Therefore, dear THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. | 9 few werds—but the strength of her emotions choked her utterance and she could not. “Do not weep, dear Lucy—do not weep,” said Lonsdale: and yet he himself swept hie manly hand over his eyes. “I feel that there is a time coming when we shall have need of all our fortitude: indeed the time is come, Lucy —and we must look our position calmly and re- solutely in the face. JI amr a man almost with- out hope—pvoor and_ self-dependent—perhaps marked out as a victim to be crushed. Think you then, dearest, that I will in any way drag you down into the vortex with me? No—not for worlds! By the immerzity of my love may you estimate the immensity of the sacrifice that it prompts me to make. For my love is not ali selfishness: it 1s of a nature which leads me to place your happiness high above my own, anc to consult your welfare first of all.” “What do you mean, Frederick? Your words terrify me !”—and Lucy gazed upon him Lucy, I suppose I must expect to be summarily | with a halffrightened half-deprecating regard. dismissed from my employment; and it will be your father, my poor girl, who will have to pro- nounce my discharge.” “ Alas! Frederick, these are indeed il] tidings,” said Lucy. “ What is to be dene? Snall [ throw myself at my father’s feet, confess that I love you and beseech him if he weuld uot plunge me into wretchedness, to listen to my prayer ?” “Not for worlds, dearest Lucy,” responded her lover, “ would I have you draw down upon your head the explosion of your father’s wrath. No, no—I will keep all my calamities unto my- self: they shall not redound upon you, sweet Lucy,” he continued in a deeper and more so- lemn tone, but with a look that was far more eloquent than his words, “1 have this day awakened from a dream of bliss. Hitherto | have cherished the hope that fortune would de- velop some turn in my favor, so that I might acquire a position that would enable me to claim your hand. I have been mad—yes, absolutely mad, to harbor such an idea: and yet it was be- cause I loved you so fondly—and love itself is hope! Ah! Lucy! you know not the extent of my love for you. You never have known, because my lips could not speak all that my heart feels or that my soul thinks. ‘This stream at the spot where we are now standing, makes no noise: it does not even ripple here: yet this is its deepest part for all its stillness—and my love is like it. It is this love which has cheer- ed me in my daily toils, and has been a sufh- cient companion for me in the evening when my work was over. If ever I have been tempted to go to the ale house it has kept me back; and when at times I have thought of the hardness of my lot, and that there was some secret con- nected with my birth which if known, would not perhaps leave me poor and obscure as I am, —your image has arisen before me and I have felt consoled and even cheered, Such, Lucy, has been my love; and such too has been the good influence your image has shed over me.” The damsel was now weeping bitterly, as she elung to her lover’s arm; and gazing up fondly through tlhe dimness of her tears into his coun- tenance she endeavored to give utterance toa “ T mean, beloved girl, that it is wrong—it is even wicked for me to keep you entangled by vows and pledges which in your affection you have given, but which must Jead to naught. In a word, Lucy, it were better that we should part—that you should study to forget me—that you should learn to think of me no more——” “ Knough, Frederick—enough—lI cannot bear this!’ and the poor girl wrung her hands in a sort of frenzy: but almost instantaneously re- covering her fortitude, she fixed her earnest gaze upon him; and with the flush of a proud tri- umph upon her cheeks—the reflection of an in- ward glow of satisfaction at what she was about to say—she added in a voice that was calm and clear, “ 1 will not insult you, Frederick, with the ‘suspicion that you are seeking a release from the vows which we have mutually pledged. We have known each other from childhood; and 1 am too well acquainted with the truthfulness of your heart and the nobility of your nature, to entertain so injurious a thought. Listen then, while | call heaven to witness that happen what may—n?d matter how far your enemies may succeed in persecuting you—no matter to what distance circumstances may separate you from me—no matter what views my father may have in store for me—and no matter who may seek my hand—my love for you will remain un- changed—my constancy shall continue firm un- to death! Now, Frederick, I have said it; and my heart feels as if relieved of a weight which for half-an-hour past, had sat heavily upon it.” “ Dearest Lucy, what can I say—what words can | find to express all the fervor of that grati- tude which I feel for such a proof of undying =~ affection as this? No, Lucy—I will not reject tha hope which has hitherto inspired me—I will noé suffer my spirit to sink beneath the weight of despondency. Oh! there must indeed be some- thing divine in woman’s love if it can shed upon the soul such cheering influences as those which your words have shed upon mine! Lucy, I ac cept this holy troth—and I respond to it in a vow of equal sanctity.” | The lovers appeared suddenly to have forgot- ten all their cares: and with their arms thrown round each othei’s neck, they indulged in a fond GOMmiGbDooks (E(0)