The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1886-09-25


Deacon Bassatt's visit to the city, how
ever was all in vain. Owen Raipsford
could not be found. He had gone to
Europe, his friends said, and they could
not give his address just then. But the
deacon did not abandon his quest. He
would have given his life to save that
little face at home. SO week after week
he went to the city, till at last Prues let
ter went across the ocean.
Back over the great waters came a
clicking message: "Will return in the
next steamer"
With pleased smile the deacon laid
the words in the little blue veined hand.
81 am so glad" she said simply. 81
wanted to see him once again."
Eagerly the anxious father watched
for the coming of the vessel, hoping by
some means to restore Prue to health.
The day the steamer was expected to ar
rive he went up to the city saying to Prue,
as he bid her good bye, 81 will bring him
back with me-"
He never brought him back. There
was message instead awaiting him,
stating that Owen Rainsford had died on
the day before the vessel arrived.
How he reached home he never knew
Ashen pale he CROPPED his wsy into the
great sunny room where Priscilla stood
apxiouslv uoitino for hin,
He is dead" groaned the deacon. cit
is my fault. I have killed my little
lamb
For a moment the room seemed to
reel around as Priscilla Bassatt's steady
nerves deserted her. Then she spoke up
bravely:
''Zadok, no earthly power could have
saved our Prudence, even if she had her
lover, for she never was strong. What
You did you thought was for the best,
and she will never blame you"
Somehow there came to the poor brok-
en- heart of the deacon ray of comfort
at these words With trembling steps
he followed Priscilla up the stairs to
where his darling lay.
AS they entered the room Prue turned
her eyes expectantly toward the door. as
he coming?" she asked softly. "Shall 1
see him soon?"
The deacon could not answer, but with
great sob dropped down on his knees
by the little white bed and buried his
face in his hands.
Miss Pricilla looked at the wan, wistful
face, and mist came over her eyes.
"Yes, DEAR" she answered gently, "yoI
will see him very sooD."
A glad contented look came into the
violet eyes. Then Prue slipped her cold
little hand like snowflake into the great
brown one of her father.
"Prue," he gasped, twill you forgive
me?" thought was doing it for your
good. But it was all-all dreadful
mistake"
"Why father" she answered in tender
tones "you have always been good to me"
Don't, don't, my darling" he groaned,
in despair. Then he tried to pray, but
the prayers that he could deliver so
promptly in meeting failed him, and his
| lips refused to move.
The shadow on the wall grew deeper.
The white eyelids fell lower, till the lash
es almost swept the cheek. Miss Pris-
ella looked despairingly at the deacon
But no words came.
Suddenly there rose to Cousin Alice
the remembrance of something Owen
Rainsford had sung the night before
Prue went home. She softly commenced
to sing while her tears were falling:
Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed?
Come to me-" saith one, land coming
Be at rest"
Such happy look came over Prue's
face and the thin hand clasped more
f: tightly that of her father.
Then there fell silence in the room.
Outside the bees were humming and the
| birds were twittering in a slow, sleepy
fashion. Nearer and nearer crept the
shadow on the wall as the sun went
down. But another shadow had entered
the room, still, unseen presence and
quietly, with a smile on her lips, tired
little Prue lay at rest.