The next day he took leave of all; and ere long, a letter fraught with expressions of the most tender regard, was handed to Amy. She did not answer it. Another soon followed, gently chiding her for her silence. After this, all were answered. Mrs. Harrington and Maria were in arms about the match. His parents yielded a reluctant consent; and at the appointed time they were married. Hugh wrote to his mother to apprize her of it, and to appoint a time for their arrival at the home of his childhood—he now thought himself perfectly happy. The honey-moon was nearly past, when, one day as he was gazing with rapture on the loveliness of his young bride, Mrs. Harrington entered, saying, "Here is a letter directed to 'Mrs. Hugh Sanford,' from my sister, I think." She handed Amy the letter, with a look of peculiar significance. Amy broke the seal mechanically, blushed deeply, and bent her eyes on the ground.—"Amy," said Hugh, "why do you not read my mother's letter?" She sank down, and could only say, "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "For what, dearest? You that never in thought or word offended. Look up, Amy," said he, smiling, "you have no need of forgiveness." "Oh, you do not know; I—" She could scarce articulate; but at length came the terrible confession, that she could scarcely read, and could not write!
We have mentioned the total neglect of her education, and the "weighty reasons" which she told Hugh would prevent her from marrying him. All is now explained. But how, you may ask, did she manage to answer his letters, when she was unable to write? She made Theresa Harrington her confidant; and she, without thinking of the consequences, answered them in Amy's name. The deception was cruel; but Amy's conduct is not entirely without some palliation. Her love of Hugh, and the shame of her ignorance, combated fiercely in her bosom; and she did refuse him—partly.
Hugh had first been won by her beauty and her destitute condition; her refusal of his offered hand had only added fuel to the flame. Absence, "making the heart grow fonder," and the letters he received, all conspired to blind him. Sincerely was he to be pitied, for he possessed many fine qualities, and was nobly disinterested. The veil was now removed from his eyes, and the dream of love was fast deserting him, like shadows of the morning, when the bright sunlight rises o'er the hills. They went to his parents. We shall pass over the various mortifications which Hugh had to endure. Amy idolized her husband, and he was too kind-hearted to be proof against her fondness. He exerted himself day after day to instruct her, but I do not believe she went much beyond learning to read and write legibly. His parents lived only a few years after these events, and his beautiful wife was attacked about four years after they were married with a slight cough, which was soon followed by that bright flush, which is too frequently the harbinger of death. A southern climate, and every possible means were resorted to, for her restoration to health, but in vain! Her last prayers were offered up for her husband, and a daughter then two years old. Hugh never married again. He continued to live at the family mansion, occupied almost entirely with the education of Eva. When she was ten years of age, she was sent to New York to school. Her life has been attended with circumstances which are not without romance. Should any curiosity be felt on the subject, I may at a future time give a sketch of the life of Eva Sanford.
Years have passed since these events transpired, and the once young and handsome Hugh Sanford is now an old man. His appearance is very much changed, and his faults and foibles have been lost in his progress through life, or have become softened by the hand of time. Certain it is, he is now a very estimable man, and is looked up to with reverence both in public and private life.
A.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
A SCENE FROM "ARNOLD AND ANDRE,"
An unpublished Drama, by the author of "Herbert Barclay," and translator of Schiller's "Don Carlos."