592 THE YOUNG CLERGYMAN. 



the elm-grove ; and an undefinable feeling of uneasiness came over 

 him, as he stood before the low paling in the front of the house. 

 .Every thing around him, however, had its well-remembered ap- 

 pearance of order and neatness ; and encouraged by this, he opened 

 the low wicket, and, before proceeding to the door, approached a 

 latticed window half-hidden by jasmine and honeysuckle. It was at 

 this window that he had been accustomed to sit with Mary during 

 the first burst and glow of his young lt>ve, and a host of happy 

 memories filled his breast as he leaned against it. The gloom of 

 early evening made objects in the interior of the cottage somewhat 

 indistinct; but as with cautious hand he pushed back the intervening 

 foliage, he could see his betrothed bride and her aged and venerable 

 mother, at an opposite window, both silently engaged in reading 

 Mary a letter, probably one of his own, and Mrs. Jennings, her 

 Bible. A light tap, which he gave on the glass, made Mary scream 

 well did she remember it, and, as James opened the door, he found 

 himself in the arms of the weeping maiden. 



His greeting was most affectionately cordial, and several hours 

 were passed in mingled smiles and tears. Edwards was sensible of 

 the decay in the person of Mary ; but as his presence flushed and 

 agitated her, it remained for the following morning to betray the 

 ravages, which " hope deferred," and a woman's passionate love, 

 had worked in the once blooming Mary Jennings. At an early 

 hour they were pursuing one of their favourite walks ; and as James 

 gazed upon her face, and felt her tottering weight, he inquired 

 anxiously and eagerly after her health. Formerly, the stile over which 

 he was now compelled almost to lift her had been lightly sprung 

 over ; and the pace, now feeble and trembling, had then resembled 

 that of the young roe : and as one by one these evidences of destroyed 

 health became visible to James, the truth flashed on his mind, that the 

 loving and beloved object of his most treasured affections had been 

 pining and withering, whilst he, utterly unconscious of it, had been 

 the cause of the blight which had come over her young beauty. 

 With a burst of passionate sensibility, he alternately deplored and 

 blamed her, till both, equally overcome by past and present recol- 

 lections, sat down, and a gush of tears came to relieve Mary's 

 over-weighted heart. Her simple tale of suffering was soon told 

 how that day after day she had become weaker and weaker, and 

 how that she had wished only to see him once again before she 

 should die. 



" Yes," she continued, " I know I must die, and I shall die 

 happy, because I die for you. Oh that it might have been dif- 

 ferent ! that I might have been yours, my own love ! to have called 

 you mine, and have lived to lavish upon you all all I had to 

 bestow, my heart, my soul, my very existence!" and she buried 

 her face in his breast, as her maidenly blushes overcame for a 

 moment the hectic tinge of her worn and pallid cheek. 



With what emotions James heard these details may be better 

 conceived than described. She who had been the idol of his earthly 

 adoration, she whose love had been intertwined with all his hopes 

 and plans of happiness, thus thus to be bowed down and broken, 



