Hatchie, the Guardian Slave | Page 4

my heart--the star I have
dared to worship. Do not veil me in utter darkness!"

"I can offer no hope--not the slightest, even to rid myself of an
annoyance," replied Miss Dumont, with the return of some portion of
her former dignity; for the perseverance of the attorney perplexed and
troubled her exceedingly.
"You know not to what a fate you doom me," said Maxwell, heedless
of the lady's rebuke.
"There is no remedy;" and Miss Dumont grasped the door-knob.
"There is a remedy. Bid me wait a month, a year, any time, till you
examine more closely your own heart. Give me any respite from
hopeless misery."
"You have my answer; and now I trust to your honor as a gentleman to
save me from further annoyance," said Miss Dumont, with spirit, for
her patience was fast ebbing out.
"I will not annoy you," replied Maxwell, with emphasis, as he assumed
an air of more self-possession. "I have been pleading for exemption
from the direst of human miseries. But I will not annoy you, even to
save myself from endless woe."
"Forget this misplaced affection; for he assured my sentiments will
continue unchanged."
"I can never forget it; but I will strive to endure it with resignation. I
feel that I must still cherish the presumptuous hope that you will yet
relent."
"Destroy not your own peace; for the hope must be a vain one.
Good-afternoon;" and the lady departed before the attorney had time to
add another hyperbolical profession of a passion which, however well
acted, was not half so deeply grounded as he had led the unsuspecting
object of it to believe. That he really loved her was to some extent true.
That his love was earnest and pure, such as the blight of coldness and
inconstancy would render painful, was not true,--far from it. He had
sought her hand, not to lay at her feet the offering of a hallowed

affection, but to realize the object we have before mentioned,--to
enable him, by the possession of her vast wealth, to live a life of ease
and pleasure.
He had commenced his attack upon her affections with some prospect
of success. To the occasional professional visit he paid her father he
had added frequent social calls, in which he had used all his eloquence
to enlist the sympathies of the fair daughter. She had regarded him as
an agreeable visitor; and, indeed, his natural abilities, the unceasing wit
and liveliness of his conversation, had well earned him this distinction.
Flattering himself that he should be able to win her affections, he had
gradually emerged from the indifference of the mere formalist to the
incipient attentions of the devoted lover. These overtures were not well
received, and, if she had before treated him with the favor which the
agreeable visitor always receives, she now extended to him only the
stately courtesy of entire indifference. The visible change in the
cordiality of her receptions had opened his eyes, and revealed the
nature of his unpromising position. But his disposition was too buoyant,
his character too energetic, to allow him to despair.
Latterly, however, a new obstacle to his suit had presented itself, in the
person of a rival, upon whom the object of his ambitious wishes
appeared to bestow unusual favor. This individual was a young officer
in the army, a sort of _protegé_ of the lady's father, who had been
spending a furlough at Bellevue. In the matter of fortune Maxwell's
rival was not to be dreaded, for he knew the lady was not mercenary in
her views. The young captain was penniless; but his family was good,
and he had the advantage of being a favorite with the father. He had
won for himself a name on the fields of Mexico, which went far to
enlist a lady's favor. He was a universal favorite both with the public
and in the private circle.
Maxwell considered this young officer a formidable rival, and he
resolved to retrieve himself at once. Upon his personal attractions he
relied to overcome the lady's disfavor; and, notwithstanding the
unequivocal intention of discountenancing his suit she had manifested,
he resolved to open his campaign by addressing her, eloquently and

tenderly, through the medium of a letter. He felt that he could in this
manner gain her attention to his suit,--a point which his vanity assured
him was equivalent to a victory. But his philosophy and his vanity were
both sorely tried by the return of the letter unopened. His point was lost,
and he was harassing his fertile brain with vain attempts to suggest any
scheme short of honest, straight-forward wooing,--which the
circumstances seemed to interdict,--when the visit of the lady herself
rendered further efforts useless.
His position, resting, as it did, on the purpose of