The Camden journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1866-1891, 1882-10-12

ping in-Philip Ferris returned from
India-Philip Ferris who had said
farewell to her in anger eighteen years
before-the one love and lover of her
life was coming to see her next day to
ask for the child-the motherless baby
who had so unwittingly separated them
eighteen years before. 1t certainly
was passing strange.
The next day was gray and gloomy,
fog overhead, damp underfoot, cold
everywhere, but Dot was in high spirits,
in spite of the atmosphere.
81 dare say Mr.. Ferris will be
at seeing what hideous house
and street we live in, auntie. / can
imagine him saying, what distinctly
dreadful placer In truth, I shan't be
sorry to leave Berry street. Now,
goodbye, dear. Be very gracious to
Mr.. Ferris; and, oh, auntie darling 1
do hope you'll like him, because you
know we've got to live with him, per-
haps."
"Dot, my love, do you really think
that you like this gentleman well
enough to marry him? He's old
enough to be your father"
$50 he is, auntie dear, but that don't
matter much if he's nice and kind and
ever so rich-and he is"
Nice and kind, and ever so rich.
That was Dots idea of husband, and
her aunt felt sad and sorry and some
way disappointed; she did not know
where the child had got such ideas.
And then came the awful thought OF
losing her, for she remembered what
Mr.. Ferris had said about divided
love. She would have but a. small
place in Dots new home and new life.
Never did a day seem so long to Miss
Britman. She had put on her best
black dress in the morning, and taken
a little extra care with the arrange
ments of her still abundant hair that
was all the external preparation she
had made for the visit, but her heart
throbbed wildly at every ring of the
bell or step on the carpetless stairs.
But the morning passed-3, 4 o'clock,
and she breathed more freely perhaps
he wouldn't come that day, perhaps he
wouldn't come at all. So she went on
with her pupil, dull, tiresome child.
"One, two, three, fourr' she repeated
over and over again. She did not hear
the step on the stair, nor a gentle tap
at the door, did not observe it open,
and when she looked up Philip Ferris
stood beside her. For a moment her
brain reeled, and she had to hold on to
the chair-back to steady herself; then
she held out her hand in welcome.
"You may go now, my dear, and I'll
give you the remainder of your lesson
tomorrow" she said, gently, and the
child wiggled off the stool, and de-
parted joyfully.
"Margaret?" That was all he said
when they Ntre alone, with one hand
holding one d lers, and the 9tAsEs
ks7rsnJt 1deTA TfaFgaseT
"You have come to speak to me
about-about Dorothy" she faltered,
feeling all the color forsake her face.
"No; I have come to speak about
myself and you-to ask you to forgive
me if you can; to ask you to let me
make an atonement for my cruelty and
folly; to ask you if it is too late for
us to be happy even now. Dear, I only
learned yesterday how true and loyal
you had been; I fancied alone was
faithful. Can you, will you, forgive
me, Margaret"
"There is nothing to forgive, Philip"
"Then it is not too late. We may
be happy STILL"
but Dorothy" Miss Britman, 81 id
family.
dorothy knows. 1t was her resem-
blance to you that first attracted me-
But the child must not come between
us and our happiness a second time
and we will both take care of her.
think she will be better pleased to have
me for an uncle than husband"
But, Philip, she thought :"
"YeS, dear, but now she understands
Margaret, you belong to me, and you
must be obedient, so prepare to leave
Berry street tomorrow"
"But my pupils, Philip?'
Dear, 1 will arrange all that. My
brave, patient Maggie, you have given
your last lesson
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The Overflow of the Nile.