Sunbury American. [volume] (Sunbury, Pa.) 1848-1879, 1873-02-08

drea returned TO Italy, and there struggled
on until he died. She had only money en-
ough to pay her passage 10 America, viii
ther she had resolved to me, in hopes by
a last appeal, u soften her fathers heart.
1t was winter voyage, aud Margaret
caught violent cold, which threatened an
Inflammation of the lungs. She could on
! ly crawl feebly to the nearest lodging, on
the night she landed, q miserable attic.
The next day she wrote IA note to her faith
er, trusting to her boy to deliver it, as she
was too i'll to go herself Knowing that
| Mr. Ascot would be out during the day,
she deferred sending the lad until toward
nightiall but hardly had he left, before
she began to think Of the perils he ran,
alone in that great city. Perhaps, she
said to herself, he had fallen down some
! open area. Perhaps he had sank, chilled
and insensible, in come bank of snow.
| When eight O'Clock struck, from a neigh
boring steeple, and still her boy did not re-
turn, she became almost wild with fright.
| Ten O'Clock came, but still no son. She
! listened intently for the sound Of his feet,
but she heard nothing but the roar of the
storm. AT last her anxiety aud fear rose
to phreney. She WAS sure now her boy
was dead. Eleven O'Clock struck. Her
candle had burned down to the sucket. and
was almost on the point Of expiring. Sud
denly the sound of carriage wheels, mu fled
ny the snow, was heard The carriage
stopped. Surely that WAS the opening Of
the street door there was steps ascending
the stairs ; yes she could not be mistak-
en-, they were the steps OF her boy. The
door of her room flew open, and her sou
rushed in.
Mother, mother he cried, 1iuging his
arms eagerly around ..er, / come as soon
rs l could Aud, yh mother, l have
brought grandfather. See T.
She louked pas; her son, scarcely bcliev-
ing her eyes. There, just behind her boy,
stood her father. She rose up in bed she
held out her arms.
! Father y she sobbed.
Margaret Ny child = And then they
were locked in each others arms, and both
were in tears.
Il can die in peace, now, she murmured,
after awhile, as she clung to her fathers
breast. Since You have forgiven me. You
will promise to take care of Thornton y
| Die cried the father, rising bolt up
right, aud fairly lifting her from bed, all
the strength IF his youth coming back in
that supreme moment.
! You shall not die. You are comm 9
home with us. We have brought blankets,
food. everything; the risk is not 50 great
as remaining another night here A; physi-
clans, the best, shall be called in. Mol
you shall not die. You have not come
home - die
Nor did she die Our simple tale has al
ready been too long in the telling, or Wa
might narrate how the seuse Of rest and
peace that grew up in her now, tine skill
iul care of the best physicians, aud the
| knowledge that her boys future was assnr-
ed. all combined to work a cure that, 9TH
erwise. might have b. regarded rs al
most miraculous.
To-day there is no more beautiful wo'
man .a # her LsRrs in that great Gr CITY haHn, than
and her boy they come, at least, beior,
/ everything else. But she does not scclud,
/ herself entirely from society. To the Sc
lGct and cultivated circle of which she is th'
centre and chief ornament, she gives ireel,
of her varied accomplishments and of hel
exquisite charm of manner.
But the memory OF her dead husband il
still green in her heart, and ever will be
and though men of high station and ever
worldwide celebrity would WOO her, if sh
would, 10 be the light of their home, thel
know, one and all, that her first and las
love lies buried. in that lonely grave, ON tn
blue shores of the Riviera, to which ever,
year or two, she makes a pilgrimage.-P
tIrSon'S LADIES' National Mag.