University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.

Perhaps the curiosity, raillery, and playful interference of others often
induces a young girl to think seriously of the individual about
whom she is teased, and to believe she is in love with him, whom perchance
she has met but once; when, in reality, if he had not been
named to her again after the first accidental meeting, she would never
have given him place in her thoughts. This was not, however, the
case with lovely Alice May. While she is confidentially confessing
her meeting with him to her young friend, Auna Linton, who had followed
her to her chamber and playfully teared her secret out of
her, we will give it to the reader in language of our own.

About a month previous to the period on which our briefly-sketched
story is opened, a young gentleman of fortune, recently a graduate
of Harvard, whose name is Edward Orr, and who was a native of
Boston, was one morning riding on horseback, as was his favorite
custom, in the direction of Mount Auburn, when seeing a funeral
train coming out of the arched gateway, he was prompted by the momentary
impulse to alight and enter. Without any definite object in
view, save to enjoy in the quiet of his soul the solemn repose of the
place, he wandered on from tomb to tomb, through dell and winding
walk, enjoying the romantic seelusion and experiencing that calm
and intellectual delight, (in which the more hallowed feelings always
might,) which the solemn loveliness of the place inspires in every
properly cultivated mind.

Suddenly he emerged from a narrow path, thickly shaded by larch
trees, upon a secluded spot in the most lovely and quiet portion of
the cemetery. Before him, within a few paces, was a young girl arranged
in simple white, her straw hat fallen back from her head, her
hands folded before her, and her eyes directed towards a name upon
a small, exquisitely sculptured monument of white marble. The
grace of her fingers, the gentle earnestness of her bending attitude,
the rich beauty of her face, on which rested an expression of intellectual
admiration in which much of the heart was visible, charmed,
surprised, enraptured him. The dark trees were bending over the
spot; the white marble rose from the verdant sward in strange beauty

amid the dark shades cast by them; and she, in her white robe bending
over it, seemed like an angel watching the tomb to receive and
bear heavenward the `arisen,' when at length the trump of Gabriel
should rend it open.

He feared to advance lest he should intrude upon hallowed ground.
His eye fell upon the inscription, upon which her soft dark eyes were
gazing so thoughtfully. It was simply.

“To my Wife
Mary.
20.

`What beautiful and touching eloquence in those few simple words,'
she said in a low sweet voice that came from her heart, while he saw
that a tear glistened from her cheek. `There is a sad story of love
aud hope and joy and woe and death, couched beneath them. How
perfect the taste of the husband who in one simple line records the
volumes of his love. Thus would I be buried. My memory graven
on the hearts of those I love, my name simply carved on my tomb.'

At this moment her eyes were uplifted with the consciousness of
being intently observed, and they met those of the young man, whose
earnest admiring gaze, was not difficult to be translated by any maiden.
She slightly blushed, and instead of flying or betraying any
foolish weakness, smiled with great sweetness, and with a just propriety
that charmed him.

`I fear, sir, you have heard some pretty nonsense. But I was not
aware I had an auditor. Yet what can be conceived more touching
than what has brought forth my soliloquy,' and casting her eyes upon
the inscription, she replaced her bonnet and was retiring.

`It is indeed beautiful and touching,' said Edward lifting his hat as
he stood by the monument. Will you have the kindness to tell me
what young bride lies buried here?'

The question was put so respectfully, his manner was so pleasing,
his face so intelligently handsome, his voice so rich and low, his eyes
so reverential yet so brilliant, that she could not resist a reply:

`I am ignorant, sir.' She then added apologetically, `I have strayed
here, away from my party, who, calling me till they were tired left
me to myself. I must hasten to find them.'

`I fear you will not find them easy in this labarynth of walks,' said
Edward, seeing her retire. `Allow me to escort you.'

`No—' she answered playfully, yet blushing; `I think I shall not
get lost;' and bounding away he lost sight of her in a bend in the avenue.

For some moments he stood gazing where she had disappeared, and
then with a deep drawn sigh, and with a sensation of gentle melancholy
stealing over him, the first dawning of love, he slowly resumed his
ramble. Deep was the impression she had made upon his heart, and
as he walked he was lost in a brown-study, of which she was the mystic
volume.

He had wandered how far and how long, whether five minutes or
an hour, he did not know, when he was aroused by the side of `the
terrace of tombs,' by a figure crossing his path. He looked up and
saw it was the maiden of the monument, whose image love was busily
graving upon his heart. She was approaching him, and he saw that
she looked warm, hurried, and a little alarmed.

`I am overjoyed to meet you sir,' she said, coming near him with
a hurried step. `You will think me a very strange person; but I
have, as you predicted, really lost myself! I have been wandering
the last half hour through a hundred paths, and this is the third
time I have reappeared before these tombs.'

`Will you do me the honor to accept my guidance,' said Edward.

`You will think me a very foolish girl. I certainly have been
very imprudent. As I cannot hope to find my party in this wilderness,
you will oblige me by conducting me to the entrance where
I will wait for them in the carriage.

The young man never felt so happy in his life, as at this moment
the lovely wanderer frankly placed her hand on his arm, and walked
by his side.

Edward was not familiar with the avenues, but, listening and
hearing the distant roll of wheels along the turnpike, he carefully
noted the direction of the sound, and struck into the paths that he
believed would lead them towards the highway.

The birds that twittered and chirped in the branches that over-hung
their way, have not betrayed to us their conversation as they
walked; and we leave our readers to imagine what two young, ardent,
intellectual, enthusiastic persons, thus romantically cast upon
each others companionship, discoursed about at such a season.

`There is Spurzheim's tomb, and not far distant and visible from

it is the gateway,' said Edward as they emerged from a shaded avenue
which they had been sometime slowly traversing. `I must now
part from you; but to bear with me the recollection of this hour as
the happiest of my life.'

His eyes sought hers, but they were downcast, and her blushing
face was averted. She suddenly withdrew her hand from his arm,
for footsteps and voices were heard. The next moment several young
girls preceded by two elderly ladies appeared conducted by one of
the party.

They were looking earnest, anxious and hurried.

`Your friends?' asked Edward.

`Yes.'

At this same moment she was discovered; and they all came flying
towards her.

Amid the exclamations, embracings, chidings, wonderings, and joy
at recovering her, Edward retired unperceived. Alice, after being
told a hundred times by half a dozen dear voices, how much she
had been sought for, how they believed she had been drowned in
`the lake,' or had been spirited away, or had eloped with some lover,
was triumphantly escorted along the turnpike towards the city.