Australian Tales - Setis

you, for I know her history well. I have known her ever since the time
when her prattling tongue could but imperfectly pronounce my name;
and when her little hands were often held out for the “sweeties,” which
my coat-pocket usually contained for my many young favourites.
Memory — obedient to my will — flies back a dozen years or more,
and presents poor Mary to my mental gaze, as I knew her, a frolicsome
girl of thirteen; the hope and pride of indulgent parents, who idolised
their only child, and expected for her the admiration of all their friends
and neighbours. Mr. and Mrs. May were a simple-hearted old pair; true
and just in all their dealings; unsuspecting and confiding in their nature.
They had seen very little of the world, and were unacquainted with its
sophistries. Their beloved daughter was as innocent as a lambkin
sporting in the green meadows beside its dam, and as unconscious of evil
lurking in her pathway. If she knew that she was beautiful, she knew not
the dangers to which that much coveted gift would expose her. Life was
full of happiness to her sanguine view, for she had seen nothing of its
dark obverse. Trouble had never darkened her happy home, and real
sorrow had never chased the sunshine from her charming face. The world
to her seemed bounded by the meandering river, whose noiseless
current — typical of her own life — flowed before her parents' cottage in
peaceful beauty, and the wild woods beyond, whither she so often
rambled to gather flowers to bedeck their rustic home, or to weave
garlands for her pet kangaroo.
“Far from the busy world's ignoble strife,
Her sober fancies never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life,
She held the even tenor of her way.”
Well do I remember little Mary in those days of innocence; often have
I stroked her sunny ringlets, and gazed with delight into her merry blue
eyes, so full of artless love and childish fun. She was indeed as joyous
hearted a maiden as ever made a wilderness vocal with cheerful melody.
I can fancy I see her now: and as I contrast her with that draggled, forlorn
creature under the gin-shop lamp, my heart within me sickens at the
sight, and with difficulty I restrain the rising feeling of wrath, which
would tower over my settled loathing for the creature who could
deliberately lure to ruin an innocent girl, whom he should feel bound by
every manly consideration to shield from impure influences, and be ever
ready to guard from injury or insult. While I tearfully gaze at the wreck
before me, at the wretched victim of a villain's perfidy, my fervent prayer
ascends on her behalf to the mercy seat of the Almighty Judge of all the
earth, who alone can comfort her care-worn spirit, and redress her
wrongs.