Herald Of The Times

Fabric must inevitably fall before a well-directed assault.

Cornelia with much agitation made known to her mother the state of her affections, and how matters stood between her and the gentleman in question; and for the first time in her life, she found Mrs. Hamilton inflexible, and deaf to every entreaty. She regretted her weakness and irresolution in ever having permitted Cornelia to mingle in worldly society; but she should take measures to prevent any further evil arising from it.

Cornelia was astonished to hear her mother talk with so much determination, and she trembled at the thought of disobedience. Still, how could she doom to misery, or death, the being who professed for her such a strong attachment, by tearing herself from him forever! She retires in tears to her room, while her no less distressed mother sat in the solitary dining-room, meditating on what had passed, and devising means to prevent Stanley and Cornelia from meeting again.

It was when Mrs. Hamilton was so engaged, on the evening at which our sketch commences, that the Rev. Mr. McKenzie was ushered in, and received by Mrs. Hamilton as an angel of mercy, come to guide and strengthen a faint-hearted and wavering disciple, in the discharge of her difficult duty. Mrs. Hamilton was astonished at the lateness of her minister's visit, and he himself, though frank in his manner, appeared at a loss how to introduce conversation,-- "You have been consulting the Divine Word, madam," said he, after a pause, and glancing at the Bible that lay open before him.

"Yes," replied Mrs. Hamilton, with a deep sigh, "it has proved as a two-edged sword, in piercing my insensible heart, and convincing me of my awful delinquency with respect to my dear girl. I have been reading the visitation of the Lord on the prophet Eli, for not exercising a proper restraint upon his children; and in it read my own condemnation. I feel I have sinned in yielding my judgment to the solicitations of Cornelia, in allowing her to associate with the gay and thoughtless, notwithstanding your candor in warning me of the consequences."

"I trust the evil has not gone too far to be checked," rejoined Mr. McKenzie; "and I must inform you that the cause of my visit to-night is owing to my just having received a confidential communication requesting me to inform you that a stranger is about to impose on your daughter- a well known fortune-hunter, who eloped with one heiress not long since, and might soon succeed in carrying off another."

Mrs. Hamilton bewailed her imprudence and opened the whole affair to Mr. McKenzie, imploring his advice as to what ought to be done. After some consultation it was agreed that Cornelia should be removed beyond the reach of Stanley's allurements for a few weeks, during which period Mr. McKenzie undertook to investigate into the character and pretensions of the young man, and he alleged-that Mrs. Hamilton's influence over her child, when not counteracted, would be sufficient for the future.

After the departure of the clergyman, Mrs. Hamilton hastened, in the ardor of her maternal love, to mingle her tears with those of the object of her dearest affection, and to plead the stern necessity which had dictated the measures to be adopted.

The wind whistled mournfully as she passed along the marble staircase, lighted by the last rays of the setting moon, glimmering redly through the large arched casement. The domestics had all retired, and a feeling of solemnity approaching to superstitious dread, fell upon her agitated mind as with convulsive eagerness she rushed into the chamber of her daughter. The room was still as the grave! the windows thrown open, and the white curtains waving to and fro in the night breeze! A thrill of horror ran through her frame, as the awful suspicion flashed upon her, and faint and bewildered, she sunk upon the untouched bed, groaning in deepest agony.

The fears of the unhappy woman were too well founded. The deluded Cornelia and her treacherous lover, were in full career for Gretna Green, to pledge their troth at the hymeneal altar.

The whole truth was soon known, and Stanley discovered to be an officer in the army, living on half pay, who being defeated in gaining the possession of his first wife's fortune, by her death a few months after marriage, determined to make another attempt to secure a life of inglorious ease, by carrying off the heir of Hazelwood.

It was about a year after the elopement, when the memory of the event had almost died away, except with those more nearly concerned, that a gentleman in an elegant dishabille, was seen on a calm summer evening sauntering in the flower-garden of a retired villa, near Stirling, with his arm round a young lady, pale and dejected, who appeared almost unconscious of his caresses.

"What makes you always so unhappy, Cornelia?" said Stanley, rather impatiently, "you know I have been a kind husband, and have never contradicted you, save in one particular, and it irritates me to see you look so broken-hearted."

"Do not chide me, Edward-you know the cause of my disquietude, though you will not share it with me. Every thing reminds me of what is passed-even this sweet rosebud you have given me, torn from the parent stem, appeals to my guilty heart. Oh, Edward, peace has forsaken this bosom for ever! 'Never-never again can I taste that happiness which dawned on my early days with such dazzling promise!"

"'Tush! my love,' replied Stanley "you are too nice about trifles. Your mother could have expected nothing better at your hands, for attempting to control your choice, and usurping a dominion to which she had no right. Such overweening pride deserves-"

'Stop, Edward, I entreat-I cannot bear to hear that honorable name branded —I will not suffer it! Forgive me, my husband - my heart is too full this evening; permit me to retire where my misery will not afflict you, and where indulgence may yield some alleviation.'

Stanley appeared moved, and led his wife to her own apartment, where he tried to divert her mind by introducing something amusing, though it was with little success.

Tired with the effeminacy of an idler's life, Stanley had promised to join a hunting party next morning; and accordingly left home at an early hour, desiring his wife to keep up her spirits till his return, when he should present her with a brace or two of moorfowl to atone for his absence.

Cornelia felt on that day more than usually depressed, and determined she would break through the restrictions of her insidious husband, and write to her mother, unbosom to her the depths of her sorrow, and implore as a last request, forgiveness. Stanley being from home afforded a favorable opportunity, so without farther hesitation she addressed her disconsolate parent in the following letter:

"My deeply injured Mother,

"I know not how to approach you or what to say to induce you to read what I shall write. O! my mother, I know the tenderness of your heart, I know the overflowing sympathy that dwells there, but my ingratitude seems a mountain over which even the parent's love cannot rise.

"I will not try to extenuate my conduct, no, I admit all that can be said against me, but I will say, my sufferings have equalled my offence, so far as it regards you. Yes, dearest mother, my dream of fancied bliss was soon over, and I have long been awake to the awful reality. But the thorns which I have reaped, are of the tree I planted-they have torn me-and I bleed: I should have known what fruit should spring from such a seed. Yes! I have gathered a plenteous harvest, but will not complain.

"My mother, I feel that the close of my weary existence is at hand. The gloomy foreboding has not left me for some months, and oh! methinks the agonies of death would be sweet with your forgiveness. Oh! mother, pity one who never expects to live to sustain that endearing relation.

"I am too agitated to say more. I write unknown to my husband, and beg your reply may be directed to lie at the post-office till called for.

"Farewell, dear mother! pray for your unworthy but deeply penitent daughter."

Five days after the above was written and sent off, a slip of paper, sealed across the door-bell of Stanley's house, gave intimation of sickness in the family. Physicians' carriages were standing without, and within servants were treading softly from room to room, and whispering in groups of the alarming symptoms of Mrs. Stanley. On a table in the drawing-room lay wrapped in fine linen the corpse of a little infant, which had never opened its eyes in this world of wo, and in an adjoining apartment lay its youthful mother, scarcely less insensible.

"Nothing but a miracle can save her," said one of the medical gentlemen, addressing Stanley, with professional coolness.

"The case is a very critical one, and the nervous system being so deranged, renders recovery almost impossible. She must be kept perfectly quiet, and the orders left with the nurse strictly attended to."

Shortly after the physicians departed, it was announced to Stanley that a stranger wished to see his wife. "Who is it?" said he in evident dismay, having that morning heard a report that Mrs. Hamilton was on her way to Stirling.

"A widow lady, sir," answered the servant.

"Tell her the doctors have forbidden Mrs. Stanley to see any one."

"The lady says, sir, she must see her daughter."

"Tell her she shall not see her, that her life depends on her not being disturbed."

The servant delivered the message, blushing for her unfeeling master, and the almost broken-hearted mother turned from the door with a deep groan. She knew her weak efforts would prove unavailing to force her way to her daughter's chamber, and the confusion such a course would occasion might prove fatal to the dear sufferer; she therefore proceeded to the nearest hotel to consider what she should do.

At night she again returned, unable any longer to endure her suspense, and unknown to Stanley, succeeded in bribing a servant to lead her to her dying child. Trembling and breathless, she rushed thro' a host of strangers to the bed of the pale, emaciated Cornelia. They looked at each other for a moment, and a wild scream burst from the lips of the poor invalid, as she threw her arms round the neck of her beloved mother, and in a long, long embrace, gave vent to the tumultuous emotions of her heart. Every face was expressive of wonder; and shame burnt on the cheek of Stanley, though he soon gained his self-possession.

"No," interrupted the feeble voice of Cornelia, "never again, never, never! Oh! mother, do not leave me, I will die in peace in your arms."

"Be calm, my darling," said the weeping parent; no human power shall force me away; and may Heaven forgive those who have kept us so long asunder!"

Fain would Mrs. Hamilton have heard from her daughter's lips an explanation of many things that appeared unaccountable; but Stanley and his friends kept their posts, and prevented any private conversation. Cornelia kept her eyes fixed on her mother's face, as though regardless of every other object, and the expression of her countenance showed she was now satisfied, though from her increasing debility she could scarcely articulate.

At a late hour the physician called, and pronounced in a low voice that she could not live till morning. Cornelia heard his words, though spoken at the door of the chamber, and kissing her mother's hand whispered, "be comforted mama, we shall meet again," and raising her head, Heaven, she appeared engaged in prayer.

"You have no objections, Mrs. Stanley," said an officious person present, "to give your testimony, in the presence of your mother, that Mr. Stanley has acted the part of an affectionate husband to you."

Cornelia did not answer him, but after a pause she implored, in a low murmuring voice, that God would be merciful to him, and lead him to the Saviour, as the fountain of life and pardon.

After an hour's repose she awoke up and took a solemn leave of every one present, addressing them according to their various characters, and rejoiced in the salvation of the Lord, as suited to all, and able to disarm the last enemy of his many terrors. She again embraced her beloved parent, and sank fast into the arms of death, becoming weaker and weaker, until about five in the morning, when she expired on her mother's bosom, just as the sun threw his golden beams along the summit of the mountains, bright emblem of him who broke the chain of death and hell, and rose from the dark sepulchre, as the first fruits of a glorious resurrection.

Mrs. Hamilton left the house immediately after the dissolution; and the eyes of many were opened to the villainy of the treacherous Stanley, who, by his great desire to induce the medical attendants to give their evidence that his child had lived declared that his only object in marrying had again been defeated.

"The Lord disappointeth the devices of the crafty, so that their hands cannot perform their enterprise."-Job v. 12.