The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1882-09-06
me all the silence of these bitter blasted

/ years.
The mans broad shoulders heaved
ana the little waXen hands beneath his
race were wet with tears coming from
bursting heart Still that wooing voice
went on unanswered.
"Felix, | wanted YOU to know that
though l, like the wicked wayward
thing was, tired Of your stiff English
ways and the dull routine you called
duty, did not tire of You Oh, nv
love, my love, how | have longed for
you, but knew how stern YOU copld
be, and feared that ce-cold woman.
your mother, would not let YOU take me
back. ! was mad with the monotony
OF my life, dear; | who had been brougbt
up from my babyhood in bright Bohe.
mian gaIety, So ran back to NV oIo
profession, and sang my heart sick on
thc Italian stage, Yet not oven that
ice-Woman you call mother could ha,n
llved purer life than |. Then nv
beautiful babe was born. Oh husband
you start you tremble; there is some
compassion left in you for our little
chlid who blooms amid the blossoms of
my southern home, guarded by nv
poor ola mother After my child came
my voice failed, and grew sicklv, so /
SiaHed my all in one venture, and came
to England to try and win your forgive.
ness TOR the child's sake. | dared not
oring her with me, for | might have
died, and left her among strangers.
Here the wooing voice grew faint, and |
DR. Holt raised her in his arms, and
pressed some wine between the pallid
ups She looked gratefully into his
lace with such fond entreatinc ewes.
that ne closed them with kisses, SAVING:
Hush no more now, poor foolish IT,
Gle wife. Rest and watt
Then followed n reconciliation the
sweeter for their long parting.
A month passed, and summer was
softly signing into autumn. DR.. Holt
was alone with his good but severe
minded mother.
Felix, my son." said the old lady.
her silvery hair a little ner.
Vously beneath her quaker cap, surely
some great good fortune has come to
YOU What has the old mother done
that she is not allowed to rejoice in the
happiness OF her only child?'
Inc cool firm tones were broken bv
emotion, and the keen old eyes were
misty with unshed tears. Her son sat
Town beside her, and in eloquent words
'evealed to her all the misery he had
all the WEAKNESS of life that
eemed so unenjoyabe without that
brighter half of himself that he had AL
owed to drift away. Then came the
history OF his wifes suffering and near
less to death; and last, but most NOV
ne, of all, his JOY at his childs birth,
ma his longing to see her face.
MY lie has seemed so empty, mother. :
o dreary and undesirable; now it ia
u n Of hope and Joy and gratitude,
Mistakes and misery"
Not yet, my son, for feel helped '
o make the trouble, but when my boy
las made separate home, then | will
come and live near, but not with you I
i'll your darling can come to our colder
,ut truer home. Man and wife should
i've in home unshared by any but {
heir own flesh, their children. | have
been unjust through my jealous love,
ad, but it shall never bring aught but {
BLESSINGS ~ Won again" /
Three yeats later, happy family
arrived at their bonny English I
lone, and the quaker grandmother b
eads by the hand a gaily-attired little !
adv, who with the wanton waste OF c
childhood, throws aside little bunch i
IF flowers. The old lady bends her dig !
nifed body to pick them up, and says 8
with fond severity;
Never despise bunch of flowers, pet; {
for a bunch Of flowers brought peace to :
two aching hearts, that both my little
maid and her cross old granny love
dearly"
A lovely little lady left her husbands
arm and tip-toed to kiss the good old
face gratefully.
Felix Hollis heart sings at the gra-
cious sight, and he smiles approval on
her and says gravely;
Thank you, wife,
NO" she says softly, rearranging
the little nosegay, "thank the flowers"
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