The Factory Girl | Page 3

mutually given, think you not, dear reader, an emotion thrilled the heart of Marcus, whose very nature forbid aught but constancy and fidelity to its sacred trust? The pledge was given the solemn vow was sealed, and registered, we fancy, in the sanctum of virtue, for future reference.
They parted but think you, fair reader, it was not with mutual satisfaction? Though they were to be separated for a season, yet they were blest with the anticipation of a future meeting, under more pleasant circumstances. Hope cheered their hearts, and the last embrace and adieu found a charm from the light of that blessed beacon which is the joy of the mind. They parted -- Marcus to resume his studies, and Calliste to leave the home of her childhood, with all its endearing scenes, to take up her abode among strangers, in a distant location. Ye who have tried the experiment, know what it is to commit yourselves to the mercies and sympathies of an unfriendly world to leave the scenes of home, for a residence amid the noise and jar of a bustling town, and confined to the hours designated by the rattling bell. You know the difference between this and the associations, and familiar faces of "Sweet Home." This was the chosen lot of Calliste, for a laudable purpose; and the morrow was the day appointed for her departure. Yet she dreaded it not, for she was prepared by virtue for the task, and she had an important object in view. Whatever may be the character of present cir cumstances, however painful our situation, we can bear, with fortitude, each burthen, if we have the satisfaction that the future will bring relief. Hope, the day-star of our life, cheers us under every trial, and we trust to its anchor for a happy termination of pain or sorrow, and a safe deliverance from the frowns of adversity. The heart would sink in despondency, were not this animating principle firmly planted in the human breast. We need its salutary influence,
To cheer the soul, when fortune frowns,
And feed the sinking vital flame;
To give new life where sorrow drowns,
And shine with beauty in a name!
We find Calliste, now, in her own private apart ment, and there, in humble devotion, she pours out her soul to the Giver of every good, to ask His protection and continued blessing, and from a sincere heart that evening, arose her fervent petition to the Throne of Grace, for, to the other beauties of her character was added the crowning excellence of true and ardent piety. A book was upon the small table near her, and it was that blessed volume, which, if rightly improved, "is able to make us wise unto salvation." As she rose and resumed her seat, a calm serenity of countenance indicated the approval of conscience, and this is the richest blessing which is within our reach.
She was indeed beautiful, and however rare the union, her mind was no less attractive.
Tho' beauty, in its ev'ry grace,
Rested upon her form and face,
The mind contained the priceless gem
E'en virtue's richest diadem.
How truly beautiful the scene, when the youthful heart surrenders itself to the service of its Creator! and what more pleasing and truly interesting object can you name, than a "pious youth?" Angels may well rejoice, and saints be glad, when the young, in all the bloom and activity of the spring time of life, yield to God, and unite with God's people to serve Him. Calliste was one of that happy number whose God is the Lord.
As she sat thus, alone in her room, meditating, perhaps, upon the scene which had transpired, or anxiously contemplating the future, through an open window, the gentle breeze of evening bore to her ears the notes of music at a distance, each note echoing in the silence of the night with a peculiar sweetness of tone which only the rural seclusion affords. It was the flute of Marcus, which had so often accompanied her voice in the songs which fill the heart with emotion; and the thought that she heard the welcome sound for the last time, at least for a season, for a moment caused her countenance to bear an expression of sorrow. But it was of short duration. And as the last note of one of her favorite pieces died upon the ear, and she heard no more, she rose from the window and retired to rest.
How sweet the rest of that individual, whose mind is conscious of rectitude! How blessed the state of that mind that can place its trust in an Omnipotent Arm, and fear no evil! Such was the mind of Calliste; and she was happy, though painful the thought of the prospect before her at least of leaving the humble roof, even in