Eastern times. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1846-1857, 1851-09-11
soft curls and the fond smile. How she had

well as outward lie WHICH idu impressed
these remembrances so forcibly upon him.
Everything seemed as if yesterday. Again
that yearning thought; and even before a re-
solve, he had smothered fear, and was pour.
ing out to her, or what he felt 10 be her now,
all that was in his heart.
After the letter was gone, there were weeks
Of anxious suspense: and then he began to
wonder at his own madness and folly. Some
times he would try to calm. himself with
thinking that they had left their old home,
and il would never reach Miriam and then
he almost wished it would be so, tor she
would never learn his presumption. Blu: at
last the answer came, when he had quite
ceased to expect ii; and he knew only by the
tumult Of his emotions, rs he broke The seal,
how much he had periled upon what would
now be revealed. He did not think to glance
at the signature 10 see if she was still unmar-
ried, but, as one resolved to drain to the dregs
bitter cup, he tore open the sheet, allowing
himself no hope.
"Paul-dear Paul. he was so dizzy that
he could scarcely see the words-"you will
think me strange, unmadenly, when tell
you my pen trembies in my hand for very
happiness. have heard from you once
more! The dream of my youth, Of many,
many years, has at last been fulfilled knep
you had not forgotten me; and have kept
you ever in my mind, mingled with all
counted good and noble. have kept the
promise which you recall, unconsciously, for
had forgotten il was ever required. have
'loved you always Paul.
No doubt much of this has been wild i'm
agination, nursed 10 the lonely life have led
mean the seclusien; for we are still here
as when you left us, except that father is old.
er and more feeble, and have assumed Mar
gery's household duties, for we are very poor
You have sought portionless bride. But
we will come TO you, as you have asked, for
we know you cannot leave your people, and
your heart will grow strong again and be
comforted by my fathers gentle counsels /;
and Twill be your home can remember
asking you If you we're going home.
Do not fear that shall not be content.
am strong and well; F; have never los, trace
of your labors. 1 have seen what you have
done for those scattered people. read of the
consecration of your little church and once
have seen one who had met you, and who
told me Of your fervor, and that you were
wearing yourself out by your never-ceasing
labor. He said your eyes were large and
dark, though s,Inken, and that you looked 100
frail for so rude life. You see it was not
all Imagination.
yes, we will come. NV father has said
so with his blessing, and he will renew his
youth living among the beautiful things OF
nature; and shall know you there face to
face as know you now in spirit, gentle, pa.
tient, unselfsh.'
The promise was kept, strange as it may
seem to those who walk ever in the beaten
track OF cold formalities. 1t was again eve.
ming on those broad prairie lands, and Paul
SIanbridge waited the approaching twilight,
pondering on the new revelation of life, the
seals of which another day would open. He
wondered If it were not blessed dream, and
then lie turned to look once more at the few
comforts he had recently gathered in his little
cabin for her who was henceforth 10 be its
mistress. She had always loved flowers.
How fortunate that he had twined the prai-
re rose and clematis over the misshapen walls
of his dwelling! and the smooth lawn-like
slope to the riverside, how peaceful it all
seemed as il slept on the suns last rays!
Suddenly he felt rather than saw an ap.
proach, and he turned to find two coming
slowly towards him. No, no, it was a
dream-they could not reach the village be-
lore the morrow-and the strangers were
alone, and coming as ifthey knew the foot
path.
II was no dream; one more glance, and
he knew that venerable form; an instant,
and that noble woman was clasped in vel.
coming embrace. There was no coldness,
no Formally in that greeting. She was all
that he had dreamed and pictured; she
was much more than he had dared TO hope /;
and she had bound him forever by her trust
ful confidence, her womanly devotion. So
they were united for life or death. Her
father blessed them as he had done before,
calling them by that holiest and dearest Of
titles, man and wife, aud, for The FIRST time,
in many years, the missionary had a home.
You will wonder If there was no sad awak
ing when the romance Of youthful girhood
had passed, and Marian knew that the step
was irrevocable. You would need no othe r
answer than glance at The peace and hap-
piness which sprung up in that quiet dwell
ing, light that was diffused among all his
little flock; for he had found the Key to their
hearts--hs creed was no longer gloomy and
morose, looking coldly on all their social ioy.
And every one loved Marian, who became,
young as she was. a guide and friend to
many beside her husband.
But did she truly love him?
Her father, happy in his serene, old age,
did not doubt il, as he saw her place their
first-born, Paul. in his arms. and look up
to him with the trusting confidence OF old,
mingled with deeper, because wifelike,
tenderness.