The southern enterprise. [volume] (Greenville, S.C.) 1854-1870, 1855-07-27
REENYI YIbLE, s. q; FRIDAY MORNING, JULY q, 1855

and attention at such an hour; and then
as delicately as possible, made known The
object of my mission. The father bowed
his head and wept; the heart that was well
nigh bursting before could throb in silence
no longer. l sat silent witness of the
scene; words, alas are weak in such an
hour. Joy and grief were mingled in
his cup. His first thought, when he could
express himself was to fly 10 his beloved
and, before it was too late, unite the mother
and daughter again on earth; but the flick
ering lamp seemed too near its close, and
was despatched with many blessings, while
he returned to the bedside of death, as we
thought were he found his wife in quiet
slumber, and as she slept, she breathed the
name Mary. The father knelt, and in earn
est prayer, poured fourth his soul to Him
who watches over all, and giveth strength to
all who ask il.
While was gone, preparations were go
ing on at the mansion, as far as practicable
for our return. Mary's room was put in or
der; everything arranged as nearly as posi-
Bile as when she left it, and a bright light
stood on the table, with an open book beside
it, as though it had been left but for a mo.
ment. The piano, whose keys had never
yielded to the touch of gentle fingers since
she left was opened, and one of her favorite
airs placed upon it. With what anxiety
we thought of the effect the sight of home
would have on her mind.
1t was about ten o'clock at evening when
we arrived, and she had not spoken during
the ride, except an occasional murmur, and
of tho N rs ";llt1. A.
her home, she grew restless, but we ventur-
ed not to speak. At length we reached the
door; she sprung from the carriage, like one
at home; with one bound entered the house.
and stopped not till she had reached her own
room.
Her mother was again in sleep, after an
hour of great distress, and we feared lest the
noise might disturb her. What could we
do2 Mary's next thought might be of her
mother, and, with the swiftness of fawn,
lshe would fly TO embrace her.
We waited an hour; nothing was heard
save her gentle step, rs she walked about
her room. At last the father could restrain
himself no longer he felt he must embrace
his long-lost child, yet much prudence was
necessary. He called a servant; requested
him TO knock gently at the door, aud, as in
former years, present his wish to hear her
play and sing o, who could telI,at tha tmo-
ment the deep feelings of that fathers heart
He had taken his easy chair, which. for years,
had been his favorite seat, when listening to
hersong, and William, with his flute, placed
himself, as he was wont, behind her seat,
ready to accompany her in playing.
Her light step was soon heard on the stair,
and in moment more she stood before us,
robed in white picture of grace and love-
illness. The scene before US was reality !;
reason, for moment, was restored, and my
father J was all she could say, ere he caught
her in his arms, as she fell, fainting, to the
floor.
We bore her to her room, but were oblis-
ed to call medical aid, before any signs of
life again appeared. Anon the delicate
tint was seen upon the cheek; it was but
for moment, and all was blanched again,
and thus it was for long and weary hours.
It seemed as if the casket was really broken,
and the jewel must be lost. O what night
in the memory of those who tarried beneath
that roofl
The physician obliged all to leave the
room, whom she had ever seen before, and
she was left in the care of lady, who was
stopping there, from distant part of the
country, while he remained in an adjoining
room, that his assistance could be given at
a moments warning. Again the broken
hearted father is at the couch of his wife:
she wakes, and smiles: / have dreamed,
she said, and Mary stood befor me-" It
was all she could utter, and sunk into fe-
verish slumber.
Thus passed the night; but the dawn of
the morning seemed TO herald briSh.e::
hopes; the crisis was past, and although
there scarcely appeared sufficient strength to
support life, yet now there was hope, and the
husband wed tearcs of gratitude.
Let us now look in upon Mary. She
stiii lies insensible she breathes, and that
is all we can say. Tho slightest change to
her might extinguish forever that little giim-
mering spark. Thus she remained for near
ly two days, when she opened her eyes, and
with look that gave hope to aching hearts,
smiled, as though conscious Of being again
in her own dear home. The shock had in.
deed been severe, but we now felt that ma
ture would have strength to survive.
Weeks passed, and from William, who
had remained at the mansion, almost daily
heard Of the slow but gradual improvement
OF both mother and daughter. Mary's rea-