The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1881-07-06
feed that which I would nave given the

feed thAt which would nave given the
best years Of my life to bring back. Re-
member what l had always been-a
spoiled, petted child, with never n wish
ungratitied, and 1t seemed 80 hard TO face
poverty-eyen with you. l was very
young-only seventeen, remember. En-
nest-and all through the dim vista of
years that lay before me / saw nothing
but want, penury and deprivation. /
fled in q moment Of madness, delirium-
anything you like to call it it-Ieaving be-
hind me that cold note, in which
I bade You never seek me- |
did not go home, for my parents
would have Immediately have com
municated with you. | went to an
uncle, who loved me only too well
full wretch that was-and told him n
lie, that you had deceived me, and that
married beggar whom | believed to
have been rich. He was bachelor,
and lived q secluded life, away from all
relatives and friends. think was the
only creature he loved on earth, and we
two lived alone. AT his house my little
child was born, and it was then that |
began to think and long for you.
wrote and told my parents as soon as
| was able of what L had done, and
bade them to seek you, and bring you
back home. They wrote, l know, but
never received any answer; and so |
thought you had treated me as | de-
served, and had resolved to forget me for
ever When Lillian was three years old
my uncle died, leaving me his heiress
and took this housc, in which | have
lived ever since, alone-quite alone
with my child Oh, Ernest, how have
longed for You, and prayed to heaven
to send you back to me? | have seen
your name in the newspapers sometimes,
and know that as an artist you have
risen to fame. And now, Ernest, for
our child's sake, forgive mc-take me
back, and try to think of me as lenicntly
as possible. | know that you can never
love me again | don't expect you to-;
but
"Indced, Marian, you are wrong; !
have never ceased to love you, inter.
rupted Erncst's cold, stern voice, II
have been as truly your husband in
heart, all through these bitter years, as
if we had never parted. have wcpt for
you and have prayed for you too, over
and over again. But"
"But you cannot take me back. No,
no!' exclaimed Marian weeping. 81
was wrong to ask it; only l thought for
Lily's sake
"And, for Lily's sake, I will" said
Ernest. 81 love my child too well to
part with her now. Rise, Marian my
wife-my well beloved-the past shall
be forgotten; blotted ont as though it
had never been, and we will begin our
marriage life again.
'I am not worthy. Oh, Ernest,
have never deserved such love as thisr
said Marian, as she was clasped in hel
husbands embrace.
"You shall make yourself deserving
it is all in your hands now, remember,
he said, with grave tenderness, M,
looking into the depths of her beautiful
eyes.
How long they remained thus, il
happy silence, they might never have
known had not n little hand the toucl
Of whose fingers Ernest Darrell hal feel
before, been placed within his own.
He looked dowh and met the uptnrneG
gaze of his child. In moment she
also was gathered TO his arms, while
blessings fell upon her fair young head.
And as she had fallen like sunbeam
across his path in the beginning, so did
she continue to the end; and through the
happy years long afterward he could
only look back, with Joy and thankful
ness unspeakable, to the day on which
he had met her by the side of the brook,
carrying her basket Of water-lilics.