Goldsboro weekly argus. [volume] (Goldsboro, N.C.) 1885-1909, 1895-10-17
1 had lived in Mauyila many yea-a

sJanch friends. but none as influential
as Mr.. Semple, and feared l should
find it difficult to maintain a school il
opposition to the one he favored.
l. Away back in the long ago of my
youth l had had my romance-had loved
and been beloved. We had, however.
parted about a question of duty. re
fused to marry at the age of sixteen
and leave my parents to seek better
health and fortune in Oregon. So my
love left the town in hot anger, and
shortly afterward we moved west.
My father failed in business there,
and felt the sting of failure 50 keenly
that he forbade me holding any CORE
spondence with our former friends. We
wandered about for some years, always
growing poorer, until he died, and soon
mother followed him. I was a penni-
less orphan, AMI, more, a broken
| hearted woman, for | had heard that
my lover, the idol OF my heart in spite
| of his injustice to me, had been lost at
| sea. So | did not care to return to our
old home, or ]et anyone know of my
restitution. | tried my luck in several
places with varying success; finally
drifted south again, and settled in
Mauvila.
Thus it came to pass that a month
after this adventure l was sitting in
my ROOF one evening very blue over
my prospects, when the servant an
uouneed: 1.-Two gentlemen to see you,
miss
Didn't they give their narnes?"
Nom"
hurried downstairs, and there, as ]
suspected, was my boy. who rushed
out of the parlor to greet me.
Miss Emma, for not writing to let you
know how easily your thief escaped?
Indeed, it was not ingratitude. I'll re-
member it forever, but l didn't know
your surname, though l came near ad-
dressing a letter to Miss Emma the
Good When I got back, TWO days after
we parted, I found the people of the
house where l boarded somewhat I'M
easy about my PROLONGED absence, but I
easily accounted for t to them. There
were two letters awaiting me from IA
Their and the president of the college.
Father wrote for me to join him dur
ing the rest of ray vacation. and the
president had consented.
AS . rs / could muster courage to
do SO l tod father all about it. lie
didn't scold, but shock his head sadly,
saying that l had inherited from him
my hasty, inpuisive disposition. lie
proposed our returning together to
Mauviia in order to thank you person
ally. Some unexpected business de-
layed him, but here we are. BY the
way. what is your other name?'
"Wilder," l murnlured, as we en-
tered.
Father, here's the kind preserver OF
the honor of the am OF Brooke, Miss
Emma"
But my name was lost in the cry that
burst from the lips OF the mar Who had
risen to meet rs.
Emma! Thank God! have found
you at last"
George! is it you come back from
the dead?' l tried to say, but a mist
swan before my eyes, and it was some
moments before | could see or speak
For it was the lover of my youth,
silvered, bronzed and furrowed by
times plowshare, but still unInistall
ably he to whose memory my life had
been consecrated.
In the meantime George the Second
(as l heneeforth called my boy) ha6
disappeared, and George the First wa:
holding my hand tendcrly, bat firmly
rs fit belonged to him.
; II heard you were dead. and have
mourned for you eve since"
No, dearest. / was not lost at sea
though l had a narrow escape, anl
. every one thought l had persisted. Or
!, my return to my native land I heard t.
:, your departure for the west, and sui
sequently of your MANUFACTURING:
lied that time. At any rate, the oil
place without you was hateful to me-
SO I settled i'll the north. where sooI
hfterward [ married Georges mother
She was a sweet, good woman and
true wife, and | did my duty by he
;. faithfully for the few brief years 0
our married life, but have loved onl,
one omar Can you forgive the past
May l hope that you still care for me
a since you have remained single?"
Il have ever been faithful to the oil,
love, George, butt am too old now t
think of marrying."
&c Yet I did not feel at all old as l sal,
SO. 1t seemed to me as if my youth
j, with all it's hope and enthusiasm, ha
been borne back to me on this fooo
s tide of joy.
He touched his gray head and beard
and replied:
v Il am not quite a youth, eithe,
II EHlH1d. rive years your SeH1or, re
II member, so why should you refuse t
,s brighten the afternoon of our lives an
let me try to Danish by my devotio
$, every shadow and pang that my foil
cost you? My boys mischief was fol
ii tunate for me, since it has brought N
to your side"
Say. rather, George, that it was fol
tunate for him that his voice resen
bles yours. because he does not look &
g. all like you. That voice overcame a
n my scruples and made me yield to tt
ID son, and"
n ITO the father, also, dearest?" h
IS added, gayly, as he clasped me in Ii
arms and kissed my willing lips.
ID George the Second here opened tt
ne door.
"Bless, you, my children!" he erie'
II. with a bright smile. Father,
10 think this is carte blanche for all N
%. future scrapes."-N o. Times-Dem
crat.
Sorrow is not an incident, occu
ring o and then. It is the wo'
which is woven into the warp of 1f
"A and he who has not discerned tt
IN divine sacredness OF sorrow, and Il