Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1897-01-20

|
stairs and aboard the steamer which
was about TO leave the wharf.
| In the crowd lost sight Of him. The
+ tell rang out sharply. l was alone and
N despair. Behind me stood Uncle
| Tobe-
/ Let him go, vreda; he'll come back,
| III give him the money after awhile,
| but not now. Young folks are too ino-
! patient"
You should have given It to him
! now, Uncle" answered with choking
voice.
Philip had not returned. The sun
had gone out Of my life. The rollick-
! Ing echo was dead. The days were
gray and dreary. the nights intermina-
bic. We had no friends. There was no
one TO come TO a house that had no open
door: no hand of welcome!
Uncle Tobe wrestled with figures half
the day. the other half he devoted 10
business ezra nds. In the evening he
read the newspapers. ! was like a
deaf mute.
Take a good, long walk every day"
suggested cempassionately Mrs. Nit
cheil. You look like a ghost and are
fading away"
Alas, there was no one for whom /
would have exerted myself TO keep
fresh and young The sooner l grew
cld and gray the better would ii into
my surroundings.
For Philip / cried bitter tears Uncle
Tobe never mentioned his name.
Poor Old man. he must be fond of
you both" Mrs. Mitchell was wont to
say now and then when l went to her
room 10 talk OF Philip. He is working
himself to death trying to buy this lit
tie house My nephew tells me this: he
is employed in the Office Of his attor-
ney."
Il hate the place since Phil is gone"
cried bitterly. Everything is gone,
the birds, the flowers and the people. F
Only We've are chained to this same
old spot"
wait Miss Vreda; wait, later ca,
perhaps"
That's what Uncle Tobe says, and
then it will be too late"
Not for you. You are young, Miss
Vreda. but your uncle, nobody can
make him see what he ought to do"
We lived our lonely lives and had
lost all hope that things would ever
change.
One morning we found Uncle Tobe
dead in his chair He looked as IL he
had dropped into a peaceful slumba
Mrs Mitchell and l seemed turned
stone when we discovered him. i feis
no sorrow, but | was terribly frighten-
ed. When the doctor came he said that
he could do nothing.
The funeral WAS very quiet and un:
ostentatious. There were no tears, no
lamentations. no flowers, no friends.
After we had laid him away 1t occurred
to me that the home in which i had
lived SO long would now be closed to me.
But the thought had no terror. 1t was
relief, rather, to be free. l knew
nothing about earning my bread. Free
dom was all / craved.
On the day after the burial, Uncle
Tob.'s testament was opened. Philip
and | were his heirs. He had bought
the little home and had left US enough
money to live in comfortable clrcum-
stances.
May God bless you" he wrote. Il
had no one on earth but you"
l sobbed aloud as l listened. "Oh IL
he had only given Philip the money
when he needed itr' must 90 out and
find him
Mrs. Mitchell soon convinced me Of
the futlhty Of such beginning. Philip
would come home sooner or later.
Poor uncle. your happiness was all
he worked forv was Mrs. Mibchell's I
cry.
He has taken 1t from me-" walled; I
she mas made me miserable, and him
Philip! he may be lost forever!"
l lived quietly on with Mrs. Mitchell
in the little house by the river. From
day to day 1 waited. The trees took on
fresh foliage and then came the au-
tumn and the winter. ! waited in ST.
Ience With the spring hope was re-
newed within me.
Suddenly on the brightest day Of all l
the year, the bell rang with q clang. {
knew the sound and hastened to the I
ioor. Philip stood before me. but not I
he rollicking youth whom 1 remember.
ID. The man in whose arms i lay had .
serious. thoughtful face. l cried aloud.
BE still,' he whispered, Il don't want I
incie to know. l don't want to see
linn. want you, only you" L
Uncle" l repeated. Don't you
NOW that he Is dead?' Y
Il am not sorry" he said bitterly: "he C
COX from me my youth. Want, care, p
.nxiety were my companions on the q
way. After many struggles success L
rowned my efforts, and now We need a
10 longer depend upon him. My fac 0
ory Is far away. My invention was u
vorth its weight in gold" q
His eyes beamed down upon me as
hey did on that fateful Sunday. He
aok ME into his arms II came back
ar you, my happiness, my youth. >,
ONE, teach me how to laugh again" e
We cried and laughed in one. When
e had told me everything l showed
i'm Uncle Tobe's last will and tesla, Z
tent. "
mot a cent of this money will take"
He'd hercely my lover, the companion
; my childhood. He has made our p
carts bleed often enough for fr' G
We were married and moved to the
rye city, where Philip had his fac
ry. The little house we turned over II
Mrs. Mftcheifs care. Every summer es
e came home. bringing our children n
;tt N, 1,ssh I,