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BLANCHE OF BROOMSIDE. 23 commenced; and as she spoke, the ' kerchief which confined her grizzled locks fell back, and her large and twisted features stood in strong relief from the bright blue sky. “I do not want to harm ye but I must look upon this palmthere, I knew ye'd wed a lord. Such beauty for a plain gentleman oh no! -the whitest meat to the kite's nest to the court, fair lady to the court to catch fools. You'll never die a plain man's wife.”

“Woman, unhand me!” cried Blanche, much terrified loosen your hold, I say! -Eversham! -Father!” she exclaimed. “Off, woman! how dare you presume.” Madge Willis still grasped her as firmly as with a vice, and heeded not her struggles, apparently intent on examining her hand “the lines tell of early sorrow and death well,” she continued “and that is the end of all but first ay, first, there is gold and rank. Now listen, lady it is fated that you” Poor Blanche again screamed; and, to her great relief, saw Eversham springing across the field.“Curse on your mummeries, you old hag!” exclaimed the young man, as he caught Blanche almost fainting in his arms; “you have murdered her with your sorceries. Away!” he cried, stamping his foot with impatience, for the woman calmly folded her arms, and looked upon them both.

“I am going poor Madge is going but as this,” and she pulled up a tuft of primroses that, in defiance of the season, were budding amid the grass”as this is pulled even so in ye'r early prime shall ye be torn asunder -and so wither. Don't lay hand on me, young man ye scorn me --and no cross or coin of your's ever touched my palm -but no matter I'll see the end of ye yet.”So saying, and before Mr. Seabright came up, she walked into the shrubbery, and the gentlemen supported Blanche to the house. Whatever impression this singular scene made on the pride of the village, it is a recorded fact, that she never looked so lovely as when on the following Monday she plighted her faith in the old church to Henry Cavendish Eversham. After the ceremony, as she was leaning on her husband's arm, passing to the carriage, amid the blessings of the assembled peasantry, her eye rested on the countenance of Madge Willis the woman's stern features wore an aspect of fixed melancholy and she silently obeyed the summons of the bride's small gloved finger.

“Madge,” said Blanche, blushing, and struggling with the terror with which the wild woman inspired her, “you said I would never be a plain man's wife here is something to console you for being a false prophet.”

“I'll not take your gold,” she replied, gloomily. “I said you'd never die a plain man's wife. I'm no false prophet, lady.” The carriage drove on.

The world talks a great deal, and writes a great deal, about there being no such thing on earth as perfect happiness. I believe it is not general; but as to the non existence of such a thing, they who assert the contrary never experienced or witnessed the perfect union of souls-- the devotion -the all absorbing happy devotion, of perfect love. I am not now going into the question whether such a passion may not detract from the duty which the creature owes the Creator. Nor am I about to inquire whether this more than earthly happiness will bear the wear and tear of a cold and selfish world, which is ever anxious to destroy that in which it cannot participate. But I believe, as the poet sings, that but let him speak for himself- “There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, When two that are link'd in one heavenly tie, With heart never changing, and brow never cold, Love on through all ills, and love on till they die: One hour of a passion so faithful, is worth Whole ages of heartless and wandering bliss, And, oh! if there be an elysium on earth. It is this it is this.”

Eversham and his wife certainly enjoyed this elysium. And when Blanche became a mother, such was the extremity of her happiness, that she would silently ask herself if it could always last. Gradually to her imperceptibly a change came over the beauty of her beloved his eye was more bright his cheek, too, more coloured and his forehead dazzlingly white; -he did not complain of either pain or sickness but there was a lassitude, an inactivity in his very step and then a short cough and restless nights. And at length his wife, with her infant sleeping in her bosom, watched by the death couch of her pride her husband! Nothing could save him she wearied heaven with prayers with her face buried in the pillow that supported his head, would she kneel, beseeching the Almighty to spare the idolized being from whom she could not bear to think of parting. “Oh, God!” she would exclaim, “can it be! Must I resign him to the cold earth to the worm and to corruption!” And then, in his calm, low voice, while his fast fleeting breath fell upon her burning brow, like the chill breeze of early spring, he would say, that, over the spirit, death had no dominion that he the soul -the mind, she so much loved, could not be committed to the silent tomb. But even the tabernacle of that noble essence was dear unto her heart -and Blanche Eversham would not be comforted.

Alas! for the changes of this mortal life! The second anniversary of their union was celebrated by his funeral. As the hearse passed slowly from the door, Blanche, clasping her baby boy wildly to her bosom, rushed from her friends, and stood at the window as if anxious to witness the last—- the very last dread ceremony and, unwittingly, her eye fell upon the hated figure of Madge Willis there she was her hair streaming on the wintry blast, giving to the winds the torn remains of what, in her distraction, Blanche imagined to be the very tuft of wild primroses she had pulled on the night of her evil prophecy. The woman looked at the stiffening figure of the youthful widow, and, pointing to the sable hearse, disappeared among the villagers. What Blanche's ideas as to the mysterious appearance of this weird woman were she never communicated; but it was evident that it had made a great