Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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i DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE. VOLUME I. LANCASTER, C. II, SOUTH CAROLINA, WEDNESDAY MORNING, AUGUST 2-5, 18-52. NUMBER 29. ! i THE LANCASTER LEDGER 18 PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY MORNING. K. ft. BA1I.EY, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. TERMS: Two Dollars per year, if paid iti advance; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if paid in six months; or Three Dollars, if payment is delayed until the end of the year. These terms will be rigidly Adhered to. Advertisements will be conspicuously inserted at seventy-five cents |H>r square of twelve lines, for the first insertion, and thirty-seven and a half cents for each subsequent insertion. A single insertion One Dollar. Nothing will be counted less than a square. Advertisers are requested to state, in writing on their advertisements, the number of times they wish them inserted; or they will bo continued in the paper until ordered out, and chnrgvd accordingly. The Law of Newspaper#. 1. All subscril)cr8 who do not givo express Notice to the contrary, are considered as wishing to continue their subcriptions. 2. If subscribers order the discontinuance of their papers, the publishers may continue to scud them until arrearages nro paid. 3. Ifsulwcriltcrs neglect or refuse taking their papers from the offices to which they are sent, they are held resjajiisible till their bills are settled, and their papers ordered to be discontinued. 4. The Courts have decided that refusing to take a newspaper or periodical from the office, or removing and leaving it uncalled for, is jrrima facie evidence of INTENTIONAL FRAVD. ALL KINDS OF JOB PBfflTffiG EXECUTED WITH NEATNESS AND DESPATTH At lIliH Office. Juvlisrtfii nlf!j. I s A B E L L A: . . ..OR. ... THE SECRET MARRIAGE. DY CAROLINE II. IlLTLER. ^Lights still gleamed from tlio windows of tiic parsonage, although the hour of eleven had already aounded upon the stillness of the summer night, ami all other casements w iih darkness were blend* ed. Repose had folded her mantle about this lovely valley?the scattered cottages bathed in the full radiance of the harvest moon, from out the dark foliage of night, shone marble-like, while the fitful wail of the night-bird cleaving with dusky wing the starry depths, and the plaintive cry of the w hip-poor-will alone broke this heavenly calm of nature and of mail's repose. The inmates of the parsonage had all k retired save Mr. Dean, the venerable cler\ gyman, and one old faithful domestic, '* whose presence might be required as witness to the sacred rite about to be solemnized. The minutes woro on?loudly ticked the clock?chirped the cricket, arid, within the leafy bowers of the eglantine which crept over the library window, fearlessly the katydid took up tlio burden of her song. Then the street door was heard to open gently, light footsteps crossed the h.U, and a youth and a maiden stood in the presence of the holy man. Mr. Dean looked up from the sacral page on which, until how, his eyes hud rested, and greeting them with a kind c. . M My children, I would speak to you a few moments even with the affection of a parent?come and sit down by me." Willi a frank, noblo Waring, hi* fine feature* wearing a determined yet serious expression, the young man advanced, tenderly supporting the trembling girl, who shrank timidly and with drooping eves, even from the benign look of tlio old clergyman. Taking a hand of each, and affectionately pressing them, Mr. L>can said with great earnestness: * My children, the relation you are about to form is one of foarful responsibility?one which no hand but death can annul tiuL ntwlnr IKa niMunt nrriimiliin. cea, may be fraught with misery to you both. Once more then, ere it may be too late, consider what you are about to do, and let prudence, rather than inclination, guide your thoughts." " lielieve me, my dear sir, we hare ah ready dispassionately considered every obstacle wuich elists to our union," replied Uie young uian, "but we find them so light, w hen weighed with the evils which the postponement of our nuptials would inevitably occasion, that we aro prepared to abiko by the result, whether it be fi>r weal or whether it bo for wo I This morning I obtained another interview with Mrs. Ellington. Although driven off from my uncle's roof, from the house which sheltered my childhood, by that bad wo I man, for Isabella's sake, I yet hlitnbled | i myself beside her, and asked pardon for j what she is pleased to term mv arrogance and ingratitude. Even on my 'inees I c swore to her that with my sword and my ? good name I would yet win fame and r honor,would she but promise me tho hand 1 of my beloved Isabella as my reward." a "And your answer?" I " Was accusation and reproach, bitter a words of hate, and for this innocent g:rl <1 cruel rcvilings 1 For the sake of him now dead-?the father of Isabella?I checked u the tierce reply which leaped to my lips, f and although my hot blood ragvd in my e veins to madness, I yet turned and left lier j r presence without sj>cakiiig 1 Can I, then, i f reverend sir, consent to leave the country for months, perha|>s for years, with the I dreadful uncertainty that in the mean t time this dear girl may be forced to wed g another?for such would most assuredly n l?c tho fact! It is for you, then, my dear I sir; to put it from the ]>ower of all human d agency thus to destroy our happiness." s "And you, I*al>olla, are you prepared ii to meet the trials which must follow this g Recret marriage! Are, you not guided o more hv him you would call your bus- o band, than your own unbiased judgment?" o said Mr. Dean. t Throwing back tha hood which shaded c her lovely countenance, she raised her dark eyes, beaming with tho light of love ti and woman's perfect trustfulness, to those h of the kind old man. d "Shall I not be strong in my wifely ti right to contend with any trial which may I press upon me?" she said. "I am very d young, I know," with beautiful simplicity tl she ndded, "but I already feel there is d that in woman's love, which for the sake ofhiin she loves, shall give her endurance, si patience, hopefulness'." n " Thank you, sweet Isabella," said lier w lover, raising Iter little band to his lip*. g "The anger of Mrs. Kllington, Isabella, si will be fearful," said Mr. Dean. p "Alas! I know it, but even that I am tl prepared to meet. With no unwilling ear tl I confess I hae listened to Walter's argu- y ments, yet it lias lieen with more delilier- a ation than you will, perhaps, give a sim li pie girl like myself credit for, that I have o consented to his wishes." tl "Then, my dear children, I will no o longer oppose your determination," said p Mr. Dean. si Kneeling down, the venerable old man, / in a fervent prayer, supplicated the bless- a ing of God upon the union he was about p to solemnize. And then the youthful pair e stood up before him,?the sacred rite pro- f< ceeded, and those solemn vows, which r make the happiness or misery of life, were I registered. ji "And now, dearest Isabella, my own s lovely bride, I must be gone!" said Wal- a ter Howard, folding her to his bosom.? i "Ah, how can I thus reliiupiish my beau- I teous prize even in the first moment w hich t gives me a right to protect and cherish t you, my heart's best treasure ? Weep not, dear Isnltella; remember you are ii mine,?mine, dearest; even the will of li your cruel step-inother must now yield to r a husband's right, and there is no power a on earth can sever the tie which binds our s destinies." tj ? li.. ..r ,.^i ..i. - To.\i. I>cAn, placing lain hand upon th<> golden fi tresses which rented on Walter's shoulder ; n "sustain by your own fortitude, the sink h ing heart of him who is now your hus- a baud. Remember your words, Isabella f* Howard?no longer Ellington, and 'be c strong in your wifely rights. " o Poor Isabella I She could not speak, I' but lifting her tearful eyes to his, she li pressed her lips to the furrowed cheek of 11 the old pastor. h "Come, dearest," said Walter, as he c wrapped her mantle closely around her ti delicate form, "the night wears on, a.id ti wo are detaining our reverend and belov- p ed friend from his needful rest. Farewell, a my dear sir," he continued wringing tho hand of the clergyman ; "guard my trea- t. sure, aud by your counsel and encourage- I meut aid her to bear the sorrows which o press all too hcAvily upon her young heart." v "It is to God, not man, my son, you ii must both look for strength and consola- e tion," replied Mr. Dean. "Noharm shall r coiuo to tliis dear one, Walter, if my e prayers can avail,?bo assured I will protect her as far as lies within my power, and with God's blessing I will strive to t soften the heart of Mrs/Ellington, that she may in time, take you both to her Affec- j lions. Good night, r.'.y children; may ? our heavenly Fattier protect and sustain you both under your inevitable separa- v tion." Walter Howard aud his young bride )< tben went forth from the parsonage, and f I . .1 .... t 1 .1 .Ml . # . 1 siowiy proceeoeu in me silliness ni uio night, through the winding path which led f to Ellington Hall. They stood together <! for tho last time beneath the ?hadow of I the noble old elm, which, like a giant sen t tinel, tossing Ilriaroua-like its hundred arms sheathed in tlie silvery moonbeams, ci guarded the entrance to the Ellington i grounds. ' i "Trust me, dearest, we shall soon meet c again, if not on earth, in that world where \ sorrow and parting aro unknown," said * Walter; "for should 1 fall in that contest c which now demand* my sword,*ure I am, my dear one, you will noon follow inc.* r Again he enfolded her to hit heart. " laa- c bella, the moment haa come, we must now ? part," he continued, vet atill lingering, still i reluctant. At length unclasping the little anna which clung ao despairingly around i him, Walter broke from her embrace,and i without trusting himself to look back, I sprang quickly Into the shrubbery, and , was gone from the sight of the unhappy t young wife. i From Ellington Hall our story now | takes us to Mrs. Ellington's town residence < n IJ- , one year after the scene of the ! i m?eding chaptcn i For weeks the themo of fashionable t onversation had been the approaching j jrand party of Mrs. Danvers E!.ington,thu I icli aristocratic widow, enrolling on its ' c ist, senators, statesmen, officers of the I inny and navy, foreign counts and am- \ tassadors, with, all the literary lions,which i month's notice could bring together from 1 liflferent parts of the Union. j i The speculations of the beau-mondc t ? ipon this event at length became realities', I c or Time, though to many Ids (light seem- j 1 d shackled and weary .ultimately brought | J ouiul the evening of the long-anticipated j s etc. s The almost princely dwelling of Mrs. t rn: ? .-? - >iuiigiAjii rvnwieu exteriorly none 01 tiie c irilliency which, from attic to basement, , I ;ave to the whole magnificent interior a t uorc than noonday brightness. Every ilind was scrupulously closed, yet the hall t loor swung wide, and in the vestibule 1 ervants In full livery, their fingers eased ? a delicate kids, stood ready to usher niests to the dressing rooms. Carpeting I f rich Hrttsscls extended down the ilight f f marble steps and over the entire length f f squares, that as the dainty foot of beati- d y left the carriage, it might, not come in hill contact with the rough pavements, f < )f the reception-rooms, of those devoted a o social chit-chat, to music, or the dance, 1 a the promenade, refreshments, et cetera, cscription would fail to do jtistice to their a nsteful and appropriate decorations.? | saving this point, therefore, let me intro- s nee Mrs. Dnuvers Ellington, and to do so " lie more unreservedly, 1 throw open the li oot of that lady's dressing-room. il The lady, whose head was under the | killftil hands of Monsieur Muntoii, the li lost fashionable hair-dresser in 15 , c as one whose countenance, at tlie first li lance, you would pronounce brilliant? uperl)?far no other superlative could ap- 1 ly to beauty of such a character. At lie second glance, you would discover in t Iiosc large Mark eyes passions to make n ou shudder, and road on tliat lofty l?ruw a nd in the haughty curl of the coral-red li p, a defiance to all the gentler influences s f love, sympathy, and kindness. At the a liird, you would turn away with a feeling f relief, nor wish to look again, although, o erliaps, for days and months, that cold, g uperb face would haunt your memory, n t stranger would have considered himself u poor judge of the lady's age, had he fj renounced her a day older than twenty-1 li ight, or thirty at the most. She was j jrty. Yet so well had she preserved her y ieh Spanish complexion, always less lia- j ile to fade than the blonde?such was the ; s irofusion of her "lossy, raven-black hair? | 1 o dazzling white and perfect her teeth, I ' nd such the graceful, still youthful, pro- i ortions of her majestic person, that Sirs, t )an\ ers Ellington night well challenge he flight of Time, whose hand seemed but i o mature, not impair, her beauty. s Wrapped in a careless but most beeoin- s ng neglige of pale yellow silk, Mrs. Kington w as seated before a full-length mir- l< or, into which her eyes flashed critically, s nd with an impatient meaning, as Moil- { t ieur Manton proceeded in his diflicult s ask. At her elbow* stood a young waitlgmaid, li dding a small looking-glass, a allied in ebony and pearl, in such a man-. ti ... t I-. 1~ I I - ' A I A? ' ci linn hit iwiy uhihi mine same nine | avc a fall view of the hark of the head,! t ail note the skill of Monsieur, tier small o jet, incased in soft lambs-wool slippers,' o uriouslv wrought, rested upon a cushion j f purple velvet?one hand hung careless- j y over the arm of the lounge, the other i leld a small repeater, mounted with din- i } Bonds. A second waiting-maid was husi- r p spreading out upon the elal>orately de- v orated dressing-table, caskets of rich gems \ lint, from their costly contents, her niis^ j ress might select those in which it might a 'lease her to adorn her even more brilli- f nt charms. j * "Stupid ! really, vou have lost all the t nsto you ever had, Manton," said Mrs. Ellington, impatiently moving her head } >n one side. "C'est vrai, inadame," replied Manton, I c vith the ready tact of a Frenchman?"it ? itrue?it is all perdu?gone?lost in do 1 xijuisite tete aftni ladi! Ah, I ncvare?! 10 nevnre, ccn do one head so inngnithpic t incore again 1" . "Impertinence ! take it down, Monsieur < ?it pleases me not," returned Mrs. Filing- i on I - ? ... 1 1 "O, madatne!?pardonnez moi?it is a I ity?e'est douimage !" said poor Munton IgflRSt. O "There sir,?now will you do as I bid j 'ou ?" and with ono sweep of her fair land, and a toss of her queenly head, the ong tresses of Mrs Kllingtou were free rom come and bodkin. "O, Mon Dieu!" shrugged the discomittcd artist, and again he commenced his liflicult task. Fortunately, for himself, to was more successful in this second atcmpt. "Catherine, now hand Monsieur my i liamond spray," said Mrs. Kllington.a- i I...I \t ll- M 11?- 1_1_ him amnion iiiiiMicu ins worn oy arrang-1 ^ ng, amid her rich elmn tr?**os, a sugcrb i linn ion J, the intrinsic value of which vould have been a life suljsiHtcncc to many ] i hard-working son or daughter of j>ov- { st ty. i "Very well, Monsieur, I nee you linvc < eeovnred your skill," she Mid, glancing < carelessly at her mirror. "Now, Alice, 50 to Mim Ellington'# room, and seo if she s ready for Monsieur." 1 In a few moments, the girl returned, sayng that Miss Ellington wm suffering from 1 1 severe headache, and would not require 1 the services of Monsieur Man ton. I "Ilow!?what is that you My!?a head- ( sche!" exclaimed Mrs. Ellington, angrily; nod, rising from her seat, "You neorl not 1 go, sir," with a wave of her hand to Man- i ton?"you will be wanted." Then gatherfl "K "ptl'o silken folds of her robe, that its ] ength might hot impede her haste, she ovept from the room, and crossing the J perfumed gallery, amid the blaze of a i u lid red wux-lights,unceremo?iously push- I d open the door of lier daughter's chain- j mt, and like a beautiful serpent glided | villain. Iler keen eye, piercing the imperfect ight which the dim argand cast o\< r the ipnrtmcut, found not the object it sought; : ililimnoliiiio ?! ?? I"??" ?'" * - 1 j i . w..v n<^ vii v/ inui|'f vi i vj ijiiU'M V U'lH'lld the spring, and tlio smothered tlnnio eapcd up clear and bright at her bidding, riic-n, with noiseless footstep ii|h>ii the oft carpet, she crossed the room, alul t weeping away the heavy curtains of ruby lainask which fell over a deep no*,-s, <lis- . losed tlie kneeling figure of a young girl, cr face buried in the cushions of a fauonil. "And so it seetns, you must feign ilhn.s o defeat my wishes!" exclaimed Mrs. Islington, grasping the shoulder of h??r I laughter. "<J no, mother, not feigned! I am real- j y very ill," she replied, raising her pale j ace, bedewed w ith tears, and putting hack j loin her l.row with one little hand, lur lisordercd tresses. "Isabella, von are not ill?it is a suhter- ' iige,or if you are, it matters not;?o rise ! ml make your toilet speedily," said Mi.-. I illington. "Mother?mother?indeed 1 am not ! ,hle to j, >in the company this evening." redied Isabella, rising from her knees, yet till leaning against the chair for support; feel my hands, h >w hot they are, and my lead sw ims so?indeed, motiier, 1 am very II!" "I might have expected this?I might lave known you would thwart me, as you ver have, in all inv plans !" said Mrs. K!- 1 ? h ill ii Will, WUIIIUIlg lOlie. To this reproach there was no answer ' ait tears Like a well-trained actress, Mrs. Kllingnn now suddenly assumed a dilhr?lit ; lantier?the stormy brow became smooth 1 lid calm as a summer twilight?the i laughty, compressed lips parted widia] mile, as placing her hand g<ntiv on the ( rm of Isabella, she said, "Come, Isabella, there is surely no need >f tears; but indeed, my dear, you must [ratify me to-night, and by votir loveli-| ess eclipse all others?that is, in the eve- 1 f one I could name to you. 1 have a nmous cordial, which will relieve your ! lead, and 1 will send Catherine to assist I ou in dressing?Mauton, too, is waiting 'our summons?and, by the way, how do rou like my head this 'evening ? Come, > it down, we have yet an liottr, good, ami want ta have a little chat with you.? | Sow, Isalx'lla, do you kin w why I have j mposed upon mvs? It' so much fatigue as o throw open my house this evening I" [ "Alas! mother?you t?>ld me it was ipon my aecount, and I would gladly have pared you the trouble," answered Isabella, adly. "Yes it is on your account. I can no linger sutler \'oit, Isabella, to seelude your- < elf from society?no longer give strength i) the tongue of scandal by countenancing uch folly. "Scandal!" exclaimed Isabella, starting ' s if from the sting of some poisonous ron ilc. ' Yes, scandal!" answered Mr*. F.lling-, dii, fastening her eye keenly upon the lace f lier step-daughter, to watch tlie etVcct I 1' her words. "That invstcrious atfairof. ours with your cousin Walter " "Mother?forl?eur!" cried Isabella. "No; you must hear me," continued drs. Ellington. "Your fair tame has al- : cady Ik'cii trilled with?there are those : vho dare whisper strange tales of one so | 'ottng, and who should, therefore, he so I aire?those who shrug their shoulders, j md leer as if they held some disgraceful iict w hich, if uttered,w ould cover you with ; hame. Ah! it is well for you, Isabella, 1 hat you are not the daughter of a i*oor j vidow?else,who would have spared you? i >ol 1 hits a refining process!" "My heavenly Father knows my inno- 1 lence?for the world I care not?only lot ne die, mother?only let me die !" cried j Isabella. "Foolish child, don't talk of dying? i here, lift up your head and hear me.? J \mong the guests this evening will bo the Jount de llreiul, an attache of the French ! if_ i * > ? I iimiMiT. nu tins seen you ni mo siumo >f young Ilavcn, aiul, I am told, spends I lours giuing u)>on the exquisite, yet truth- { "ul coj?y, the arti.-t has given of yotir feu- j ures. lie lias sought uu introduction to no, and I have extended to him nn invita- I ion for this evening. Now it needs but a ! ittle linese on your part, Isabella, to com- ! uleto a conquest already nearly achieved, j ?nd to bring him to your feet. Methink* j :he titlo of Countess would well liecnmo i pou?and then who shall dare to breathe night against the Countess I>e Ureiul!" No longer pale, no longer passive, Isa- ' l?ella started to her feet. Kven tho iinisheii 1 woman of the world, w hose self-possession was no more easily moved than her sclfwill, quailed beneath her indignant glance is she said : "Do I understand you, mother I Have [ heard aright ? You, wrho ho well know tho anguish of my heart?you, who so j LY * * 11 Lnnw mv onflonmr? o# #l.*u nntimoli. I "V -V ?..w OHMIUVIT j leath of him, who, in llic sight of (Jod, ] was my husband " "Your husband, girl! your husband!" : interruptod Mrs. Ellington, livid with pasdon. "Now this is too much to call Walter Howard your husband! and mark me, Isabella Ellington, had hr lived, t/ou ihouhl sooner have wed the jpavo than | than have gone to the altar with that ingrate P Isabella stood firm before the angry woman, in all the majesty of youthful in- ( noconoe. "Mother, the time Las come when I must spunk?when my over-burdened heart can no longer support (he sorrows and the indignities you have pressed upon it! Do you talk of slander?of my injured fame. Do you say that the fair name of your husband's child is blotted by foul calumny 1 Let me ask you mother, whence came these reports i from whose mouth did thut whisper of reproach speed forth ' Who drove the generous, noble Walter Howard forth an outcast from his uncle's roof, to die?alas! to lose his young life upon the battle-lield! And ! shall I tell you why?Cod forgive me? he r<jcclal I he fumf of h is itncli'x trhlmv!" "Isabella! girl, beware! do you daresay this to me!" almost screamed Mrs. Kl'.ington, and clenching the arm of Isabella so lightly that the impress of her fingers remained lturiilo 011 t lie tiiiro xvhin. rWli . 11 i -i ; i os. I do dare to speak it, for it is the 11itlit. And yet you knew how he loved mo," she continued in a saddened tone.? on knew my whole being was bound in his?mother; you knew before you married my tallica, that he had already sanctioned our love, although wo were but children?and yet, with bitter hate and jealousy, abusing the power which my beloved father's will had given you in his blind atfcelion, you destroyed us both!-? May God forgive you, mother?but the i death of \\ alter Howard is on your conscience!" Mrs. Kllington raised her hand?that beautiful width hand, whose long, taper fingers glittered with gems, to strike the brave, wrorged Isabella?but, with an en- j ergy of which her delicate frame seemed ' incapable, Isabella arrested the blow, and then sinking on her knees before her, she said: "< > mother, do not strike me?it will only he a sharp blow to your own heart in your old age, mother, when I shall he at rest in the grave! Forgive me for the words 1 have spoken. You were the beloved wife of my father, and from you, therefore, 1 shouM bear w ithout reproach." To this Mrs. Kllington made no answer, but rising haughtily from her .seat, she said, as she left the room, in ?i voice of bitter irony: "Your admirable acting of the Histressed Heroine, Miss Kllington, has added a brilliant) licet to v>>ur charms?onvt r'.od I v:. !..-, .. i i ' * v ... i I ?t .v*??4.v mi" ?i iii-iii'. iur.i \ uiir- I self (juiokly?such beauty must not be 1" >st?IK) more headaches?remember, I am not t<> be foiled!" Ami Isabella, heart-broken as she was, | only aroused to a momentary energy. ami 1 again supine, da veil not to disobey, ami, although sick and heavy-hearted, began her toilet. The features of Mis. Ellington wore a liemlish expression of malignant j >y a>ho sought lu r private dressing.room t<> nvover from the agitation into which this interview had thrown her. '"She knows not that he still lives!" she cried cxultiiigly?"'that even this very day I have received private information of his safety, though left for dead on the plains of lbicna Vista! Yes, she shall marry the Count 1 >o llreinl, and the love-sick fool return to find his Isabella the wife of] another! And then?he may no longer | slight the love I have already j?r? If. r.-i him?this hand, holding out the tempting bait of riches, may succeed where niv charms have failed, in bringing bim to my feet! What compunctions need I have? she is no ehilk of nfne, and, by heavens, I will be revenged upon her!" Then glancing at her repeater, Mrs. Ellington summoned her attendants, and hostile r..i?- ' rlu-It'll lier toilet. Even at an earlier hour than usual for' Fashion to rail her votaries together.were the rooms of Mrs. Ellington rupidiv tilling with the gay throng, yet, of all that rare assemblage of loveliue-ft, none could surpass the fair hostess herself either in licaiity of pel-son. or in grace and dignity of manner. Leaning on her arm waslsn-l hella, timidly shrinkingfrotn the approach of the crowd, from whom her youth and | extreme loveliness, although somewhat shadowed hy an air of melancholy, called forth many expressions of surprise and admiration. Nor was this all, for even as Mrs. Ellington had hinted, and through her own artful agency it was, some other feeling seemed at work here end there within the eirele. Scandal hissed her venom through the lij?s of beauty?O how unmeet to issue thence!?pud there were those, too, among the gentlemen, to w hom poisonous hints had been conveyed, who shrugged their shoulders, and levelled their eyeglasses with an air of freedom at the wronged Isabella, whoso beautiful eyes, downcast, scarce noting the gay throng around her, remained happily unconscious of their insolence. Suddenly touching the arm of Isabella with her fan, Mrs. Ellington said, in a low whisper? "Now arouse yourself; you have acted the languishing beauty long enough: hero comes the Count. Kemember our lato conversation." And then, with a rnidinnt smile, advancing a step to meet the gentleman who now drew near, she held out her fair hand to welcome him, and then presented him to Isabella as the Count de ltreiiil. Isabella did indeod remembor tlic conversation with her mother, yet the embari rassmcnt with which she met his salutation, the Count failed not to attribute to a cause most flattering to his Mf-love, and, although the color soon paled, and her manner became add and indifferent, be I still remained by her side, his eyes looking I the ndmiration which his tongue would fain have spoken. It was now Mrs. Kllingtoil's tact to leavo Isabella with the Count. "I shall certainly pass for an over-fond mother," she said, Mif I shelter you longer under my wing, Isabella; therefore, Count, I will trust this little trembler to your care j while 1 look alter the comfort of my quests.' ; A nil away 1 this true woman of j the world, dispensing on all sides the most courteous salutations?complimenting the i vain, llatlcring the self-love of the egotist, drawing forth the particular shining traits i of each one, and giving to all a feeling of j perfect self-satisfaction and pleasure. Meantime the Count paid assiduous court t" Isabella, who received his atten- j (ions w ith ati air of coldness not very flattering to an admirer. "All, there is Mr. llavcn, the artist." lie , said; "I am glad to see him here this even- , ing; he is decidedly a man of genius; as j . uch I honor him, .and am proud to call myself his friend; hut that is not all,?I i.- I 11. e i i ? vr... ii mi .1 <i<' |i u<-iii. < i grauunie aiso. Isabella rai.-cd her ryes empiiriiigly? J the < 'ount smiled. "Alt, 1 see, fair mneh-moisellc, you are ' thinking he once saved my lit* j?lio, but t I he gave inc a new life by lint presenting 1 to ilie those charming ft atmvs on which my eyes now rest. Do 1 not owe him i something for so groat a happiness.'" Is "1 lattery, sir, 1 detest,'' ] "Flatten! reproach me not with such a suspicion. Flatter y< n'." exclaimed the Count, "no, upon my soul, 1 deem you above it! 1 adore you, Miss Islington; 1 yet pardon, 1 beseech yott, thss abruptness! you will deem me bold, presumptuous, upon an ae<juaint::nee so bri? f, to address you in this manner. I only ask for your penni.-sion to visit you with the hope that l may, in time, win the inestimable treas- 1 lire of your love.'' "I eaiuiot listen to you, Count de < lire-nil," said 1 ab"lla lirmly, "and I entreat of you, sir, if you tire sincere, and i have the regard for me thai you profess? f I heg of you, n--v? r let this subject be re- j < newed. Although your confession does i me hum i, my hatal can never he yours.*' . "Stay. Miss Mllington?one word more; ! ?believe me, I mean not to importune . you," exclaimed the Conn!' his eotmten- I anee betraying inueh emotion, as Isabella j was about to leave him. "Your mother has led inc to hope that your affections were not engaged?has given inc to understand that you were willing to sanction my addresses?how then am I to interpret your words:" What could Isabella answer.' To ex- < eulpate herself from a ehrirgo so mimaid- 1 cnly, she must, perforce, impeach tlicvor- 11 nciiy of Mix. Ellington; this she was too ' ljcih r<?us to do, while, to complete hor cm- I bunas.mont, the searching eves of the j j Count were riveted upon her speaking countenance, awaiting 1h r r> j?!y. | At this moment Mrs. Ellington joined j them. A glance snfiiced to show her that she probably nrrivt d just in time to prevent a complete overthn w ? fh rRclioiiios. Linking her arm, therefore, within that of I the Count, she dexterously drew him away, j undi r the pLa that his presence was required to decide upon the merit of some painting. ! No longer able to support a scene so i uncongenial to her almost bursting heart, j Labi lla glided, unobserved, from the bril- ; liant throng. She hent lo r steps toward i the conservatory, and, putting aside the i > fragrant leaves and blossoms iuwroathing the casement, throw up tho wiud.ow to ! court tho cool night breeze, so grab fill t<> l her fevered brow. She looked upon the glorious heavens, j and the gentle voices of the stars seemed I to whisper peace to her troubled heart.? The thoughts of Isabella soared from earth ?a blissful screnilv pervaded her bosom I ?the spirit of hor loved Walter seemed ! near her. ! 'A es dearest Walter. I shall soon fob j low you!" she. exclaimed. "Wc shall soon I nnet again?it" not mi eartli, in heaven" | such wore your parting words." "Isabella! Isabella!" Hark! did she dream! ' IIo calls me!" she said aloud* ''Ho j I summons me to the spirit-land!" "Isabella?niv wife! Isabella?be calm ?it is i r And from the little balcony Walter Howard sprang through the casement, j and caught the nearly fainting Isabella, I speechless with joy and wonder, to his boI soil). All, it is fortunate that one is never kill- | ed by excess of happiness, else in that j I moment of ecstasy, the heart of Isabella would have ceased to beat. "Look up, dear one?see, it is your : own Walter! It is no voice from the j ! "spirit-land," dearest, now speaks to you, I 1 but the voice of love, bidding yon live for | joy and happiness." "Walter, is it indeed you, mv own, dear j Walter!" said Isabella, looking up into i 1 those dear eyes so tenderly regarding her. . | "Yes, it i-*, it is! Thank Uod, Walter,you j are here safe?but they told me you were t dead?O Walter!" j "Yes, Isabella, it wjw so reported and i I my name, I believe, was on the list of the killed at Hucna Vista! Hut surely that j dreadful supposition ltiv-s l?cen removed.? I I I am certain that Mrs. Ellington knows of ' my safety. I should have sent a special ' i messenger to von, but I hoard you wore ' ' at Ellington ifall, and so (low thither, pre- 1 ferring, dearest, to announce my own safe- | tv. J tide of in v disappointment when 1 heard you had lieen suddenly summoned to town by Mrs. Ellington. From Mr. I)can, Isabella, 1 learned your sufl'crings, and the I anguish of mind you endured at my sun J posed death, l'alao learned, my poor | ; girl, tho cniel treatment to which j ou have i been subjected by Mrs. Ellington?that to pour out more fully her hatred upon you, she had, with her fiendish cunning, sought to sully your angel purity in tho opinion of the world, and then forced you away from the seclusion of the llall, whero alio had sulVered you to remain while her venon was doing its work, to place yon moro directly within >he sphere of insult. Not another hour, Isabella, shall you remain under this roof! No longer a poor soldier, thanks to my good sword and uiy country's botttity, your husband lias now both wealth and station to bestow upon you, and a happy home, dearest, now awaits your presence. Come, my Isabella. lint let us lirst seek Mrs. Ellington; in the presence of those to whom she has dared to slander you, 1 will proclaim you my \\ ife?the wife of Col.Waitcrlloward!" In the meantime, with her usual consummate address, Mrs. Ellinorp>n lmdlieen 1.1 : . - - i.-iuormg to regain mo conmieneo of tlm Count, and to convince him that Isabella had acted, not from her true scntimcn ?, hut from a little spice of coquetry. "O no. Count! you are little schooled in woman's wiles," she said, "if you take her lirst word thus seriously. Come,don't be disheartened?I tell you she is yours? yes, yours, believe me, with the same willingness with which I, her mother, yield Iter up to your future protection." There was so much sincerity in the manner this was uttered as almost reasjinel the Count. 11c took her hand and pressed it to his lips. "Ah, madam! thanks. You inspire mo with some faint hope that 1 may be mistaken?yet there was that in the manner of Miss Islington which 1 fear but t< o well confirmed her words!" "My dear Count, all acting?all pretence, I assure you. 1 know her better than you <! >. Why she is as arrant a little coquette as was ever emancipated from the thraldom of .a governess! We will so le her again Count?he not discouraged l?v a woman's frown!" "Miss Ellington is now entering tho room, madam?by heavens, how beautiful die is! I bit who is that tine-looking ofli:or on whose arm she leans! A'ow would I peril my salvation for one of those sweet -mil< exclaimed the Count. Thorn was one moment in which Mrs. Islington Jo.-t her self-command?for one moment the j?allor of death chased the brilliant color from her checks and lips, and she leaned heavily on the arm of tlio Count, as if all nerve and strength were paralysed?then, as suddenly recovering her self-possession, she stood firm, with haughty brow, every evil passion raging within her breast, to await the approach of those two beings whose destruction she had planned, thus suddenly appearing before her maddening gaze in all the brightness of love and happiness. No longer was the face of Isabella pale and sad. Her every feature was radiant with joy as, with a step light as her heart, she now trod the rooms, leaning on tlio arm of her husband. On passed the youthful pair?music breathing its entrancing strains around them, and the gay throng, moved with mingled wonder and admiration, following with their eyes and mnnv-whispered surmises their graceful forms. "Your presence here, sir, is an insult!" said Mrs. Kilington, in reply to the distant salutation of Howard. "Pardon me, madam," lie answered .. :.i. : 11 i . ?.? ? >iiiu impel iurunn:c coolness; "1 C.II110 IHIt lo relieve you from your maternal charge of my wife, Mis. Isabella Howard, and have now the honor, madam, of taking my leave. Come, Isabella, you have now a husband's heart and home to lleo to? pay your parting compliments to Mrs. Ellington." "Mother, will you not say farewell}" said Isabella, offering her little hand. Hut Mrs. Ellington turned scornfully nway, an?l Walter Howard and his beau ifnl bride passed forever from her dwelling. What o'clock is it. When 1 was a young lad. my father one day called me to him, that he might teach me to know* what, o'clock it was. He told me the use of the minute linger and the hour hand, and described tome the figures on the dial plate, until I was pretty perfect in my part. No sooner was I quite master of this additional knowledge, than 1 set off scampering to join my companions in a garno of marble*; but my father called me hack again. "Stop, William," said ho, "1 have something more to tell you." Hack again I went, wondering what else I had got to learn, for I thought I knew* all about the clock as well as father did. '"William," said he, "I have taught you to know the time of day. 1 must teach you how to find out the time of your life." All this was strange to me; so I waited impatiently t" hoar how* my father would nvivlotn It '*>?. 1 ' 11- ? v .M....... km i Kjiiutu BHuiy u> go to my marbles. "The Uible," said lie, "describes the years a man to be threescore and ten or fourscore years. Now, life is very uncertain and you may not live a single day longer, but if wo divide the fourscore years of an old man's life into twelve parts, like the dial of a clock it will allow almost seven years for every figure. AVlien a boy is seven years old, then it is one o'clock of his life; and this is the case with you. When you arrive at 14 yean old, it will be two o'clock nith you, and when 21, it will bo throe o'clock, and at 28, it will be four o'clock; at 85, it will be five o'clock; at 42 it will be six o'clock; at. 49, it will Ikj seven o'elock; should it please God to spare your life. In thia manner you may always know the time of your life, and looking at the clock may remind you of it. My great grandfather, acoordliior tr? ft.5a 4.i:~i - to -'-I--1 "5 *' ? ? vnivulitlU/U, 11IUU UV U WWK my grandfather at 11, and my faihcr at 10. At what hoar you or I shall die, William, is only known to Uirn to whom all things are Known." Never, sineo then, hare T hennl the inquiry, "What o'clock it itf"nor do I think * I have even lookod at the fi?eo of a clock, without being reminded of the word* of my father. t