He rushed into the house and flew to clasp her
to his bosom; but her wasted form, her deathlike countenance--so
wan, yet so lovely in its desolation--smote him to the soul, and
he threw himself in agony at her feet. She was too faint to
rise--she attempted to extend her trembling hand--her lips moved
as if she spoke, but no word was articulated; she looked down
upon him with a smile of unutterable tenderness, and closed her
eyes forever.
Such are the particulars which I gathered of this village story.
They are but scanty, and I am conscious have little novelty to
recommend them. In the present rage also for strange incident and
high-seasoned narrative they may appear trite and insignificant,
but they interested me strongly at the time; and, taken in
connection with the affecting ceremony which I had just
witnessed, left a deeper impression on my mind than many
circumstances of a more striking nature. I have passed through
the place since, and visited the church again from a better
motive than mere curiosity. It was a wintry evening: the trees
were stripped of their foliage, the churchyard looked naked and
mournful, and the wind rustled coldly through the dry grass.
Evergreens, however, had been planted about the grave of the
village favorite, and osiers were bent over it to keep the turf
uninjured.
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