The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1880-07-10

risen, and now swept in chilly gusts about
the house; and the sunbeams, which came
half reluctantly, seemed cold and cherries.
After breakfast w9s sitting, bundled in
furs ana shawls, awaiting the stage, and
wondering about the strange lady. At last
everything was in readiness. asked if there
was not another lady to go to Il.
al have just been to her roomi but there
was no answer when knockcd| said the
waiter The landlord went up and vas as
unsuccessful. The door was forced open,
and the fear that had been creeping in the
hearts of us all was terribly realized: She
lay quietly back on the bed, apparently no
whittier than when l saw her the night be-
fore, but without the heavily shaded CLEAN
in her eyes, for she was dead,
Of course physician was sdmihoned, an
examination made, and everything which
could throw light upon the subject searched
out. The doctor said she had died Of dis
ease Of the heart.
Her great desire to go to IL led them
to think she had friends there, and prepa-
rations were made to eo17ey the body to
that place.
was frozen with horror. Gould not
overcome the desire I had TO be where she
was, and to look at her beautiful face.
There was considerable excitement, when
WE arrived at IL, but soon all was made
clcat: the lady was identfedj not by name,
but ms being for u short time resident with
an old thanj who lived in a cottage on the
hills He was sent for and came. With
calriiness he ordeted the body to be taken
to his house, cautiously refusing all offers
Of assistance.
The next morning, my friends, who had
related to me all they knew of the strange
lady, proposed that we should call at the
cottage We were admitted, wheu it was
made known that was with the lady so
shortly before her death. The room was
somewhat dark, and could just distinguish
upon sofa the form of a body, aid dn old
man kneeling before it. AS my eyes be-
came more accustomed to the darkness, |
saw that his face, though expressing infinite
sorrow was calm.
lie was talking to her. "I forgive you
now, Margaret, you have atoned-I forgive
you wholly"
Possibly he had not toticed our entrance.
went and stood beside him, and my poor
heart seemed bursting. feared my sorrow
was intrusive, but could not restrain it.
wept passionately, while his eyes were dry
told him how l had seen her,and he SEEM
ed moved, and, taking my hand in his, said
"Never sin like her, and you will never
break an old fathers heait."
That, then, was the secret of her pallol
and of her grief-slN! Perhaps from low
ing too yell. sorely tried, she had not re-
sisted; teinpted she had not wthstood temp
tation. aiterward learned all. Her mem.
ory is pure and holy, though her brief life
was stained and sorrowful. Out of the or
deal of her sin and her anguish, out of temp
tation and the reward of yielding to it,deatt
led her, and at the threshold of another
life, her early imperfections fell from her
and the fair sweet soul (none other coulC
look fr5tn such eyes, or speak with such
voiee) claimed its kindred among the re
deemed.
Do not thou do likewise. But look will
charity, as angels do, when beautiful bu
erfing, fair but tarnished souls go aside from
rectitude: Condemn not, but aid them t,
avoid sin.