The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1886-10-16

everything che could to make things
bright and lively for people, and then go
quietly away.
One day as she sat rocking the baby
had been watching her for some time, and
l said:
"Mrs. Willis, did all your smiles and
laughter go down with that ship"
She gave start and looked at me for
one second, then her eyes dropped, and
she said slowly:
II am afraid all my life did,"
Well, one day, seven years ago, it was
harvest time, came round from the side
porch where Nanny and the two help
we're busy making sandwiches for the
men, to the front door.
had been wasting little time watch
ing Nanny, she looked SO pretty, cutting
the bread SO fast, and then packing the
things in the basket with her little white
hands. I heard the baby babbling to her
grandmother and as I came around the
corner of the house, I saw my wife's
mother standing ON the porch in the
shadow of the Madeira vines, little
apron she was making in her hand, the
baby playing with some roses at her feet.
1t made nice picture, and / stopped to
look at it can see that grave face now
with its settled, mournful look - though
have never seen it since.
just as I commenced to speak the gate
clicked, and turned to see man CON-
ing up the walk. My wife's mother rails
ed her eyes, and the little one looked,
too, dropping her roses. The man was
tall, with hair too white for his handsome
FACET liked him the very minute look
ed at him, and I've liked him better and
better every day since. He came on up
the walk until he could have touched the
woman standing there SO still and silent,
Then he spoke.
Nanny" he said, NANNY, oh, my dar-
ling, my Nanny, you have not forgottenP'
There was an awful look came into her
face, as it seemed to sort of break up
she threw up her arms with such cry as
1 never want to hear again. "Oh, my God,
my God," she shrieked and fell forward
into his arms.
In one minute my wife and the girls
came running, I was too confused to
move, and seeing her mother like death
in a strangers arms, my wife cried,
"What have you done to her? - give her
to me-"
He was holding his burden close
kissing the white lips, but he looked up
with q start and said, "Who are you?''
In her surprise my wife answered, Man
ny?"
(which is it?" I heard him whisper
looking from the sweet face before him
to the white one on his arm, then, very
low, "Her child-not miner
1t was long time, or it seemed so to
us before there was the least sign OF life
in that death-like face. We all got too
frightened at last to answer any questions.
Finally she gave long, long sigh and
opened her eyes. The man was kneeling
by her side and she looked right into his
face. InAver saw such a glorified smile
as came about her lips and into her eyes.
She put out trembling hand to draw
him closer, and, do declare, my wife's
mother looked like girl OF sixteen as we
heard her say-"Ned, my husband"
It was the queerest thing and the
most beautiful, too, to see just how she
accepted him and went back to her youth
without one doubt or question. "Your
father she would say to Nan, SO simply
that we both took it up and now our
children know no other grandpa.
All the first days while he told us his
story, she hardly ever spoke l don't
know as she heard half of it-she sat
close by him, her beaming lovely face
raised to his, his arm around her. The
vessel had been wrecked in q cyclone;
after three or four dreadful days he had
been washed ashore, and there, among
some simple, kindly savages, he had
lived four long, dreadful years eating his
heart out, waiting for the ship that came
at last and brought him back to home
and despair, for Nanny Dawson was the
wife of Deacon Willis, the mother of his
child. Then his only thought was to
spare the woman he so loved-the woman
who had only given her wasted, broken
life to do good to others - the unmer-
tied disgrace of being the wife of two
men. He went to the ship owners in Bos-
ton and told his story and they kept his
secret. Then he went West and pros
pered, and all the long years while Han
nah Willis did every bit Of her duty,
working in the present, living in the past,
he toiled on, making money he didn't
care for, always faithful TO the only wo-
man he ever loved.
The first time che ever laughed it gave
me kind Of shock-but I'm used to it now
as young and fresh and frequent as my
wife's. They live West, but they always
spend their summers here, and it's al
ways holiday time when father" and
mother" yes, / call them 80 too-come.
What brought him back? Oh, | forgot
you see he always kept sort of guard
over Nanny-his Nanny, mean-think-
ing she might need him some day. When