The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1881-01-19

that afternoon.
1t was lovely, shaded spot
near the river, and the early flow
ers were beginning to bloom.
Maurice Green wood stood there
alone in the still glow of sunlight,
that wrapped the city of the
silent as in Gods great peace !;
and in those moments glimpse
Of a higher, better life dawDed on
his soul.
What startled him ? What
made the strong man tremble in
every nerve? For the moment it
seemed to him 8 vision. A young
girl passed with q basket OF flow
ers on her arm.
He had only a glimpse Of her
face, but the golden brown hair
beneath the little sun-hat, the
form, the step and bearing were
Annie's own
A great hunger sprang up in
his heart and ho could not resist
the impulse to follow her. He
did 80, silently, not to attract her
attention. She did not see him
approach, as she sat on the grass
twining o wreath Of the flowers
she bad brought, and singing a
low, sweet melody ; one that An'
ME loved, and often sang.
He drew nearer; near enough
to read the inscription on the
marble tablet before her. His
daughters name was craven
there, and the man with difficulty
repressed a cry of pain. The
young girl turned her head she
saw him, and sprang to her feet.
Pardon me, young lady, he
said courteously, for my seeming
intrusion. She who lies here was
very dear to me; but l have not
seen her these many years, and l
did not know of this
| His manner, bis gray hair, and
worn, sad face, reassured her, and
| she remained awhile, answering
simply and frankly his inquiries
| about her father and home. She
was the only child his Annie left,
and likely soon to be quite alone,
for her father was fast failing.
Maurice pondered. What should
he do2 Could be tell her that
he was her grandfather Would
she not fly from him as from a
savage beast if she should know
that be was the father who turn
ed her gentle mother from bis
heart and home, and left her to
die in poverty and pain? But
she must know or he could make nc
reparation. And his good angel told
him that Annie would forget, in
kindness shown her loved ones
even at this late hour, the deer
and bitter wrong done herself.
4 have a carriage waiting al
the gate he said, at last. 'Wil
you allow me to carry you home
and see your father2'
But the revelations made there
are not for mortal pen to describe
When he left, there was peace
between them.
1t was but a little time tha'
the sick man fingered, Maurice
doing all be could for his aid anc
comfort, and be went to his rest
happy in the assurance tba
Grace Brown should ever~hold hel
mothers place in the heart ant
home of the repentant old man.
This promise Maurice sougb
earnestly to fulfil, and though hi
daughters presence seemed still
conscious at times the shadow OF
his heart grew less, and not all o
pain. Yet thoughts of the unre
turning past, regret, softenet
though it were, served in afte
gears as warning, q beacon, th'
reminder his impervious will still
needed.
Five years have passed sine
Grace Brown came to Mauric
Greenwood. Her presence has be
come the sunlight Of his HON 6
her voice the sweetest music tina
meets his ear her hand alon
rests on his temples with soott
ing touch, when sad memorie
oppress him and even, as sh
comes near, the shadows on tn
hearth and heart grow less.
He sits musing alone this ever
ing, and shade of trouble
thought is on his brow. Rarel
does he talk to himself but b
FOOLS loneIv now thOngh GraC