The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-02-15

on thatGesolate night You must rememb IT
You are thinking of it now, as you sit In " ur
silent room; you are shuddering once more at
the bitterness of that black draught. had
tasted that cup before. / knew it well knew
it would be useless to appeal from it, and so
drained it to the lees-hopelessly, silently.
"But, you, poor child, how wildly you pray
ed that it might pass from you Despair was
a new thing to you. How you wept-strug-
eled-agonized! But in vain. Firmly, steadi-
", the cup was pressed to your lips, and, resist
ing drop by drop, you drank it, and we part
ed-forever, as we thought.
"Mily, am dying-dying in the old home
and as draw near the brightness Of the ever
lasting light which beams over the grave,
many things which were dark grow clear.
feel, kno,c, that am forgiven freely and fully,
by both Heaven and yourself. But, on that
and / would fain take the assurance from your
lips. Will you deny me this? Will you not
come to me, Milly? HORACE GRESHAM"
As the Judge laid down the letter, and push
ed up his tear-dimmed glasses, Milly laid her
hand on his arm, and said
II must go, sir"
"You shall, my child. I will attend you
myself" was the prompt reply
As they drove through the well-known vii
lage streets, Milly leaned back in the carriage
scarcely lifting her head until they came il
sight of the old graveyard. Then she started
up, and gave a timid, anxious glance. There
were but three graves there-the sod was smooth
and unbroken; and, relieved from the terribl,
fear that had haunted her, she stepped from tn,
carriage, and entered the door of her old home
Mrs Smith wept over her, mingling bless
ings and welcomes with her tears and the vii
lage physician, he who had succeeded DIR. Gre
sham, came forward and greeted her with hear
~ kindness, kindly saying, in answer to hel
look of inqdiry-
$50 in, dear Miss Milly. He has been ask
ing for you all day." and he turned away, &c
do the honors of the house to Judge Sprague.
mot that way, Miss Milly," said old Mrs
Smith, seeing her move in the direction o
Horace's own room. "He has chosen his moth
ers room, and will stay in no other"
With a heart that was almost pulseless from
strong emotion, Milly lifted the latch, and cross
ed the threshold.
The pale, wasted, emaciated figure, stretched
npon the sofa, with great, hollow, eager eyes
fixed upon the door, made an effort to start up
and, stretching forth his arms, cried
"Milly! Milly my darling!"
She did not shrink from that embrace sh,
even drew the thin arms more closely arount
her for brief space; then, slipping quietly
down upon her knees, supported his head il
her arms, while she wept silently.
"MiIly," he whispered, holding her hand in
-"Milly, am / forgiven"
She did not speak, but, bending over him,
pressed upon his lips that kiss which she had
30 long yearned yet feared to give.
"But, Milly. this is so sudden-so unexpect-
ed; bless my soul-so strange!" said old Judge
Sprague, an hour afterwards "And -
al know that it seems so to you, my dear
sir; but have loved him always, from the first
time he spoke kind word to me, poor friend
less child. Indeed, / had no one else to love
saw no one worthy to be loved but him, and
cannot leave hira. Who should be his last
earthly aid and support but /? And it is most
fitting that should have the right to do it as
his wifei"
:" 1t is; you speak truly, my child; but let me
forewarn you, my dear, that it will be but for a
little while-a few weeks, perchance days. al
best" said the old man, laying his hand on
her head as if he would ask Heavens aid il
her behalf to bear the trial.
81 know it." she said, leaning her head OF
her hands; "but, Gods will be done!"
And so, when the pomp of summer sat upol
the hills, Horace Gresham breathed out hi
weary breath in the arms of his wife; and nov
there are four graves instead of three and sh'
sits there, of yore, in the twilight, and watch
es them so longingly, yet patiently; for sh
knows, in Gods good time, it shall be well
with her also.