The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1882-08-24


handsome, but was dressed like a
laborer, and that the doctor said "it
was near chance whether he lived or
died"
Two weeks passed on. The doctor
came and went each day; the neighbors
far and near volunteered their services
all except Squire Seaton, who lived
his usual secluded life in his great
mansion, buried in his books, and knew
Of the stranger who lay at
deaths door.
"Poor boy! Alice, 1 wish you would
20 in and sit beside him awhile" said
Mrs. Derwent, on the first evening of
the third week of illness. "He is
asleep now. If he wakes you can call
me. If We only knew his people I
would send for them. I fear he will
not last long"
Alice c,ept in and took her place in
the nurses chair. Tears of pity dimmed
her eyes as she looked at the wasted
figure in the bed-the pale, thin fassss,, ffas.sss,
the fast-closed eyes, the hollow tenn
Piles under the xasTiina brown hair.
~ wish his mother or father would
cG1ne I" she said, aloud,
The heavy lids opened. Two deep
blue eyes looked at her imploringly. -
"My fatherl" whispered the sick
man. "Bring him-tell him-I was
coming ing-Seaton-Seaton-"
The faint voice died away-the eyes
again were closed.
Alice stood an instant like one struck
dumb. She had never noticed the re;
semblance before; but now she could
trace the firm lines of the old squire's
countenance in that pale, pinched face,
Sleeping still? That is a gooi
sign," said her mother, coming in.
ready to resume her place for the
night.
Alice hesitated a moment. Never
before had she acted by or for hersel
in any matter of moment.
But the sound of voices might arouse
the slumberer. Her father and Ton
had gone on a household errand tt
the village; there was no one else tc
consult.
Finally, she threw on her waterproof
drew its hood over her head, and spec
cross the valley to Squire Seaton'l
house.
Even the well.trained servant wor;
an astonished face as he usherad thil
mysterious visitor into his MASTER
study.
Squire Seston looked up from hi
book, and his usual pallor increased tt
ghastly hue as he listened to tht
breathless girl.
"My SONNY boy-my Philip q
your fathers house? And dying, yor
fear9 Asking for me? Coming to me-
Wait, child! I'll go with you, of course
-I'u go to my poor boyl But-the
room is turning round-I think I mus
be going blind1"
Alice sprang to his side. The gray
head fell on her shoulder. Tenderly
che smoothed the silvery hair away
from the high fore head and bathed the
pale face with the cold water and fra,
grant essences which the frightened
servant brought.
The old man revived, to find hel
ministering to him thus. And it wa!
almost like father and daughter that
they took their way across the valley
together, he leaning on her arm an6
listening greedily to all that she could
tell him Of his long-absent, long
mourned son.
at is my fathers voicel I hear his
step! I shall get we'll if he will only
forgive me - said the invalid, greatly
to Mrs. Derwent's surprise, as the
house door softly opened to strangers
touch.
He struggled up from his pillows,
resisting her attempt to soothe him.
"Father, I am sorry-forgive mel
be said in a firmer voice, as Alice en-.
tered, followed by the aged man.
And then Squire seaton came feebly
but swiftly into the room, end he held
his son TO his heart, sobbing aloud with
gratitude and JOY, while Alice drew hei
bewildered mother into the kitchen and
told her of her expedition to the house
Of the lonely millionaire.
Joy seldom kills; and there is o re-
vivifying power in love and happiness
combined far beyond the skill of all
earthly physicians or the virtue of all
earthly drugs.
So it happened that ''as the spring
months deepened into summer Philip
seaton, strong and we'll once more,
stood beside bouny Alice in the porch
one evening to see the O'Clock express
fash by.
cat Leadville, when I was utterly
and utterly penniless, too, q
letter from my father reached me" !"
bo soid IN a Iow tone. uTt yas en-