The Russellville Democrat., 1880-07-22

stay and support; the spring came-the summer-another winter; three years went by--crept by.
 My child, Toms little baby, grew to be fair little thing, with blue eyes and golden halr and tongue that never wearied of it's childish prattling. All day long she sat on the door step, where the evening sunbeams slanted in, lisp ing to her doll and listening, while I told her of the father who would come back to us some day. For surely he would come. Most surely Gods mercy would vouchsafe some compensation, some paldon for such repentance as my soul had poured forth.
 The third spring was peculiar; some- how the far-of sky seemed to drop down in nearer, bluer folds; the sun wore a softer radience; the trees, the grass, the flowers, diviner, tenderer beauty. I rose every morning and looked out of my little window at the kindling beauties of the morn, with a feeling of strange tremulous expectation. I seemed to feel the shadow of some great event that winged as light above me-one prayer of my heart seemed about to be an- swered.
 One evening-oh. that evening! A May sky, soft and blue, hung ovsr the green blossoming earth; the turtle dove cooed in the distant wood and the robin twit- tered to her young brood amid the milky bloom of the orchard. Gods love shone in the golden brightness of the westward going sun. My child, little Fife, sat on the door step talking to her doll and watching the birds. All at once she clapped her dimpled hands and bounded to her feet.
 Nanny" she cried, gleefully, "pap- py comin'-pappy comin'; Ellie go meet"
 The words stirred my heart to its utmost depths; and dropping my work l followed her out of the door. A man was coming up the garden path-his garments tattered, his step slow and un- certain. A begger, no doubt. l called Fife to come back, but she ran on, heed less of my command. Toms little span iel, that I had petted and taken care of for his sake, darted from his kennel with peculiar cry, such as l never heard from it before.
 What did it all mean? My heart throbbed and my knees trembled. Little Fife ran on holding out both dimpled hands, her golden curls blown all about her face "How-de-do, pappy? Ise your Efiie." she lisped, as she reached the mans feet.
 He stopped and raised her in his arms and then glanced at me. And such a glance-such face! Pale, haggared, worn by sorrow and suffering to a mere shadow, Toms ghost come back from the grave! Not that, either, for my arms grasped some tangible form.
 "Oh, Tom," cried, "Is it you2 Speak, speak, and tell mel"
 "Yes, Lucy, it's me. l could bear 1t no longer. Pm dying, l believe-and couldn't go without seeing you and the little one again."
 My arms held him fast, tattered gar ments and all; my kisses fell on his poor, pale face like rain. l would never | let him go again.
 "Tom, Tom," I sobbed, getting down on my knees beside him, "Oh, forgive mel forgive me! 1 have suffered SC much"
 "It is I that must ask forgiveness Lucy" he said hunibly, fnot you, l was l wrong"
 But I stopped him shcrt. ..
 "No, Tom, my cross word old It all
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 but for that, we might have been happy all these weary years" ,. | Nanny, mammy," l" interposed Fife twisting herself around on her fathers shoulder, don't cry no more, pappy'' come back" NgMe AliVll5s
 Yes, thank God, he has come back poor, tattered and hungry--likeg tn, prodigal-but my Tom, my husband nevertheless. would never speal cross to him any more. 5
 It is springtime again. The swee | May sunlight steals in at my windoy as 1 write, and l hear the, turtl' dove down in the distant wood. NJ, husband is a man now, standing ul proudly, with his feet upon the grave oI old temptation. l know that Gor mercy is equal to His justice, and hi love is greater than either.