The Press., 1892-03-10

10 to see grandmother anu ue or again. l think there can be no sorrow greater than that l I feel at this moment. , Again and again Doris burst into tears
 in the cruel silence of the night in her
 lonely city boarding house.
 Could she have dreamed that anything but joy could have come to her with the knowledge that Frank still lived. And now, alas! he seemed farther from her than when she thought him dead Even the love of the old grandmother would be lost, for she had never told her that she acted on the stage, but had led the old lady to believe that she taught at 8 1 school.
 What was disgraceful in Franks eyes would be ten times mors so in hers. How could she go home on Sunday? In
 deed. she was not needed. Frank would care for his grandmother, and she should never even know what had happened
 when Frank was missing. She had loved
 him SO well. She would only have done what she had, knowing that he so serious ly disapproYed of it, for the sake of the dear old lady And now while they were happy together she was thrust out l into the outer darkness as wicked I thing, unworthy of their remem brance.
 Poor Little Doris.
 How long was the night in coming. How sadly she attired herself and went ] upon the stage when her call came. Her first lines were uttered. "Bless
 me, nobody here" with very little spirit. When voice from the audience fell
 clearly upon her. "Yes, daughter, thee did not look in the right direction. lam
 here, and Franklin also." And there in an orchestra chair sat Mrs. Fairfax in
 her Quaker bonnet and drab shawl, and
 beside her Franklin, with very differ
 ent look upon his face than that it had
 worn the night before. And the aston
 ished audience, all repressing smiles, af-
 fected neither of them in the least de-
 gree. '5j
 l Ali how all things changed at once!
 Doris saw every thing through golden l glass, and when she sang her little song she made of it so sweet thing that some among the audience wept. Han
 nah Fairfax was one.
 | All Frank said when he came for her l after the play was over was:
 ssCan you forgive me, darling? never can forgive myself" And Doris was too happy to be cruel. But Mrs. Fairfax was more voluble than her grandson.
 Franklin is to blame, Doris" she said. 'Tt is the way of the worlds peo- pie to speak hastily and without con- sideration, but he is much concerned in consequence. now that he knows the facts of the. case, which are so creditable to thee. And that meeting which at tended seemed to me agreeable, and the
 Friends who had call to speak uttered excellent sentiments, and the music was
 melodious l can see no harm in it. 8 they went home together and Doris heard the story Frank had to tell. Of
 how, attacked by desperadoes who stole
 his horse and his money and left him for
 dead, he was succored by natives, who I carried hin with them in the opposite
 direction from that in which his party
 was going. How, penniless as he was,
 he could not rejoin them for q long while, and how, when at last he found
 thems everything had gone wrong Diff faculties undreamed of had arisen and the
 whole party had returned. 1 "But still he has excellent prospects,, "
 Grandmother Fairfax remarked. And
 1 deem it advisable that thou shouldst
 marry him. Marriage is a holy state,
 and it is excellent to have congenial life partner. ..sS
 And so it came to pass that no public
 audience ever heard Doris sing her little
 song again, though she sings it often to
 her babies: x. .5<3 .s,s.zs My love is home again. | My love is home again; 1 After all the weary waiting. I -4& ..s... My love'is home again. l THE END.t