Stranica 188 [188]
OCR
38 ful and agonizing of all apprehensions, " said the young man, “the fear of losing the one dear being on whom my every wish and hope are centered. You had been dying—trembling between earth and heaven. We know that when the young, the beautiful, and good, are visited with sickness, their pure spirits insensibly turn towards their bright home of lasting rest, and hence it is that the best and fairest of our kind so often fade in blooming.” There were tears in the eyes of the gentle girl as these words were spoken, and when one fell upon the flower over which she bent, and glistened brightly in its cup, making it more beautiful, it seemed as though the outpourings of a fresh young heart claimed common kindred with the loveliest things in nature. « An angel,” continued the young man passionately, “a creature as fair and innocent of guile as one of God’s own angels, fluttered between life and death. Oh! who could hope, when the distant world to which she was akin half opened to her view, that she would return to the sorrow and calamity of this! Rose, Rose, to know that you were passing away like some soft shadow, which a light from above casts upon the earth—to have no hope that you would be spared to those who linger here, and to know no reason why you should—to feel that you belonged to that bright sphere whither so many gifted creatures in infancy and youth have winged their early flight—and yet to pray, amid all these consolations, that you might be restored to those who loved you —these are distractions almost too great to bear. They were mine by day and night, and with them came such a rushing torrent of fears and apprehensions, and selfish regrets lest you should die and never know how devotedly I loved you, as almost bore down sense and reason in its course. You recovered—day by day, and almost hour by hour, some drop of health came back, and mingling with the spent and feeble stream of life which circulated languidly within you, swelled it again to a high and rushing tide. I have watched you change almost from death to life, with eyes that moistened with their own eagerness and deep affection. Do not tell me that you wish | had lost this; for it has softened my heart to all mankind.” ‘«T did not mean that,” said Rose, weeping; “I only wished you had left here, noble pursuits again—to pursuits well worthy of you.” s There is no pursuit more worthy ot me— more worthy of the highest nature that exists—than the struggle to win such a heart as yours,” said the young man, taking her hand. | “ Rose, my own dear Rose, for years — for years I have loved you, hoping to win my way to fame, and then come proudly home; in my daydreams how I would remind you in that happy moment and tell you it had been sought, only for you to share; thinking of the many silent tokens I had given of a boy’s attachment and rally you who had blushed to mark them, and then claim your hand, as if in redemption of some old mute contract that had been sealed between us. That time has not arrived; but here, with no fame won and no young vision realized, I give to you the heart so long your own, and stake my all upon the words with which you greet the offer.” “Your behaviour has ever been kind and noble,” said Rose, mastering the emotions by which she was agitated. “As you believe that I am not insensible or ungrateful, so hear my answer.” “Tt is that I may endeavour to deserve you-—is it, dear Rose!" “ It is,” replied Rose, “that you must endeavour to forget me — not as your old and dearly-attached companion, for that would wound me deeply, but as the object of your love. Look into the world ; think proud to gain are there. Confide some other passion to me if you will, and I will be the truest, warmest, most faithful friend you have.” There was a pause, during which Rose, who had covered her face with one hand, gave free vent to her tears, Harry still retained the other. “And your reasons, Rose,” he said, at length, in a low voice, " your reasons for this decision—may I ask them?" “+ You have a right to know them,” rejoined Rose. "You can say nothing to alter my resolution. It is a duty that I must perform. I owe it alike to others, and to myself.” “To yourself?” “ Yes, Harry, I owe it to myself that I, a friendless, portionless girl, with a blight upon my name, should not give the didly yielded to your first passion, and fastened myself a clog, upon all your hopes and projects. I owe it to you and
