South Branch intelligencer. [volume] (Romney, Va. [W. Va.]) 1830-1896, 1885-03-20

tient. I must 20 70 my own town.
You will take rue. Fred;.
Il will take you TO an asylum,
john promised.
And Susie? You will keep my
secret. You will lot disturb susie :
happiness?'
4 will not trouble Susie's happi.
ness ! said.
Yet an hour later I was writing 10
Susie, nd / delayed our depa, ture
from Cincinnati til; an answer came.
II was the answer | expected frpm the
tender, loving heart. but l said moth.
ing ot il 20 John.
airing t.noerly for his comfort, I
T. ok him on his way. honeward' 1t
was evening whe, we reached the
railway depot OF our own town, and
as we had been long cramped IN tho
Car seats, l pro, 'osed to walk home.
IS it not too tar otf?' Jonn asked.
i thought the asylum WAS a long way
from here
%, the whole place is changed from
the little village you leit!' answered !;
we have II great town here now, aud
your asylum is not veiy far from here.
Lie let me lead him then, willingly
enough, and we were not long in
reaching Susie's home. She was alone
in the cheerful sitting room us we en-
tered, bit obeyed NY motion for
silence. as placed John in "a great
armchair, alter removing his hat and
coat. He looked wretchedly old aud
worn, and his clothes were shabby,
yet Susie's soft eyes misty with tears,
had only love in their expression rs
she waited permission TO speak.
john | said to him, If l had
found you in u pleasant home, happy
and prosperous, and l had known
that Susie was poor, sick and blind.
would 1t have been a kindly act for
me TO hide her misfortune from you
and passing by Jour home to have
placed her in the care of charitable
strangers?'
Fred, you would never have done
that he said much agitated.
'Never!' answered. sYou are
right. But you, John, ask me to take
rivm Susie the happiness of knowing
a fathers love. the sweet duty of car.
ing for father affliction.'
NO, no, Fred. oniy ask you TO
put no burden upon her young life, to
throw no cloud over her Happiness.
| am old aud feeble L shall trouble
no on long,
And when you die you would de.
prive your only child OF the satis!ac.
ton OF mlnistering 10 your wants
take from her her fathers bless,ng?'
lie turned hi sightless eyes toward
me. his whole face working coDvul-
sively.
Where is she, Fred? You would
not talk SO if you did not know my
child still loves her father
Il am here, father Susie said and
| stole softly away as John clasped
his child III Lis arms. Albert was in
the dIning-room with Johnnie. and !
was chatting still with him when
heard John calling:
Fred Fred, =
/ hurried TO the room TO find him
struggling TO rise, Susie vainly trying
TO calm him.
Il want my child = he cried, deliri-
ousl 'you promised me my childr
| saw at II glance that the agitation
of the evening had brought back the
wandering mind, of which he had told
me Albert aud | released Susie,
who lett Us a. ickly.
Some tiuer instinct than we possess
ed guided her, for she returned witt
Johnnie, and whispering him to lie
very good and kiss grandpapa. she
put h.m IN her fathers arms. In a
second hls excitement was gone, and
he iondled the curly head, while John
ME obcdlently pressed his lips upon
the withered cheek. So, in little
time, they fell asleep. Johnnie nestled
III The feeble arm, and the withcred
face dropping upon the golden curls
We watched them silently, till we cav
a shadow pass over Johns face, and O
cnanRe settie tuere That comes but
once ia life.
Gently Albert lifted the sleeping
child, and carried him TO the nursery
while susie and | eat beside the arm.
chair.
Uncle Fred che whispered. al.
b. TT vi go for a doctor Bot may
waken hlm e Let him speak to mC
once more
Even a. she spoke John opened hi
eyes. All the wild look was gone
from them as he CROPPED moment til
Susie put her hands in his Then 3
heavenly smile came ny, the wasted
lips, and he said softly tenderly:
Susie, my own little child. Susie
And with the name on his lin.
Johns spirit went TO seek au eternal
ASYLUM, In which there vcilI no no moro