Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1860-03-10

!
faces never, never'
She sobbed low bu. passionately, nevei
! mlnding the wind that blew little drifts up
on the edges Of the stone steps, aud made
her shver unwittingly With longing eyes
she traced the yellow light rejecting from
the windows upon the walk she held heI
breath now and anon to listen to the sound
OF children's voices, and then she sobbed
again She did not note the approaching
footsteps, nor any presence, until startled
by manly voice, exclaiming,
Woman, who do you want? What is
the matter.
with a low groan, she turned her face
to the door and sank upon her knees He
had drawn back with shiver that was not
of cold, and there he stood, good battling
with evil for the mastery of his soul. There
he stood, pressing his hands, now folded.
one into the other, his heart swelling now
with Indignation, now with gentle. manly
sorrow; anon with repugnnnce and pride
But that knceing figure in the cold Decem.
ber night, so forlorn, so dropping, so shrink.
ing from all human compassion, unnamed
him. He moved a step forward and bend.
ing, cried out in husky whisper, is it
Marthan
%! George, said the fgnre; what
voice it was What revelation they en-
bodied-those two words Of deepest remorse
aud utter hopeless.
Another pause, during which pride gave
some fierce throbs, and then bis tones lost
their manliness, as he said
Martha, come they all expect you'
All all o take me up stairs take me
out of the way they must hate me-
God forbid ! said the young man, fer
venty and more tremulously none of us
hate you, Martha come, my sister,
Heaven bless you for those words. O
you must be better, holer than Others to
give such joy to a broken heart you do pity
me; you DO forgive me, only let me hear
You say it,
i pity and forgive you 7 said The young
man, solemny, and MS he spoke, he was
conscious of a sweet rapture stealing into
his soul, filling him with pure and Christ
like love for the forlorn, the wretched, the
SHINING. IIe took her hand now. 1t was
the first time he had felt happiness that
Christmas. He determined to love and
shield the poor lamb who had, with all her
vanity aud willfunesS, been loving sister
to him. Come he said, gently leading
her up the steps, 'you will soon forget that
you were separated from us in the warm
welcome that awaits you
II rang the bell. A servant opened the
door-but other footsteps were heard.
Dear soul 7 said the pitying domestic,
under her BREATH 81.
Right in here ? whispered George
They stood on the threshold. brother and
sister she white as lily, blined by the
blazing light, reeling, stretching out her
hands he holding the poor, frail frame
with one strong arm.
%, my child my Martha my first
born ? cried Mrs. Meredith, tottering to-
ward her; and the repentant woman lay
helpless as an infant, sobing on her moth
er'S breast AS for Mr.. Meredith, be took
the wasted hands be threw back the cling
ing veil, all wet with snow-dropS and pat
ted in his DID, fatherly way, the still sunny
tresSes that we're braided beneath As for
the sisters, they hung about her, weeping and
full of pity, full of love. AS for the child.
rem, they stood midway, transfxed, with
toys in their motionless hands, looking,
wondering, grievng, and understanding
nothing of it ALL As for George, he stood
with head hiden, but the words cd, l
thank thee for snbdning this rebellious
heart, issuing from his parted lips
And they made her warm corner by
the fire, and rallied her, treating her as if
she had always been one of them She
sat, detected, still happy, thinking how
it all seemed how much this home seemed
like heaven how angel-white was virtue,
taking this shape how glowing with the
never dying fires of remorse was that pit
from which her poor feet had been taken.
Yes, her repentance was genuine, for had
not human love, inspired by Divine forgive
ness, reached out its shelterng arms to her,
upholding and sustaining her trembling
soul And though the cross of persecution
aud the worlds neglect must be borne for
weary years though the crown of fthorns,
woven by the fingers of memory, will ever
press her temple, yet from that cross she
will build temple of beauty and holiness,
and out of that crown will spring heavenly
jewels, as through Christ is at last victo-
rous
OF Savior of the world, image of the
invisible God teach us how to forgive.