How oft doth sorrow come!
Consumption, that awful syren, had entered the joyous home of Mr. Woodman, and marked his lovely wife for its prey; and although many years elapsed before it effected its work, yet he well knew what would be the result.
Pain and distress had wrecked her feeble frame, and dimmed the lustre of her once sparkling eyes; her step was feeble, her voice grew weak, and soon her gentle spirit took its flight to a fairer and brighter world, leaving to her bereaved husband four children, the youngest their only daughter. With joy the father saw that she partook in a great degree of her mother's gentle spirit. This gave hope and consolation to the now almost heart-broken parent, who, as he looked upon his child, saw the perfect resemblance of her departed mother.
On the death of Mrs. Woodman, she gave up the charge of her children to her sister, who watched over them with all a mother's kindness; with careful attention she reared the tender plants left to her care by her departed sister.
Fostina soon completed her twelfth year, and her father with pleasure witnessed the growing intellect of his child, and the superior talents which she possessed. He bestowed upon her a liberal education, and was fully rewarded for his labors as he beheld, with astonishment, the rapid progress of his lovely daughter.
Nor was Aunt Aubrey less pleased, as she saw her fair charge in all her youthful beauty, possessing her mother's gentle nature, lovely in mind and person.
Years rolled on in quick succession, and our lovely heroine had reached her nineteenth year, beloved and admired by all who knew her, diffusing love and happiness around to all that were blessed with her presence.
At the commencement of my story, one lovely morning, she was seated beneath a stately oak, with her brothers, and Lewis Mortimer, a son of a gentleman residing in the village, who had ever been a constant visitor and welcome guest at the Woodmans. An intimacy had by degrees gradually grown up between them, and he had now become almost a constant member of the family. Lewis had long felt a strong attachment towards Fostina, and she, too, was not ignorant of the feeling which existed between them. She had but a faint recollection of her mother, although her father had often impressed upon her youthful mind the remembrance of one so fondly cherished in his memory.
Fostina had never experienced much of this world's sorrow; the brightness of her sparkling eye and joyous countenance spoke the true index of the soul within. From her infancy she had been cradled in the home of indulgence, and received every care and attention from Aunt Aubrey, which a fond mother could bestow, and she therefore felt not her loss. Her father, too, had devoted most of his time, since the death of his wife, to the care of her tender offspring.