Year: 1879

| closed, and what an entire revolution HIS
taken place in my hitherto uneventful life!


My greatest sorrow, and greatest joy, have
followed each other in quick succession; go
quick, that the latter seems to have swallowed
up the former, or at least shut it out Of sight,
and almost reproach myself at times for my
seeming forgetfulness But how can I help
being happy? He who I once began to fear
had ceased to love me, has given me the
strongest proof of his devotion. We now BE-
long to each other, and such marks of his af'
fection are heaped upon me, that live in an
atmosphere of boundless JOY and content
And then, I know, my dear father would have
reioiced to see me thus. His great grief in
dying was leaving me unprotected, uncared
for; and the end was so sudden, so unlocked
for, that he had no time to lay any plans,
make any provision for my future. How
thankful am now that did not 60 to my
unknown aunts! Though, even there, think
Ralph would have sought and found me out.


But let me write little more coherently,
and set down clearly all that has taken place.


While we were at Woodburn, my dear faith
er, whose indisposition had, up to that time,
given me no cause for alarm, grew suddenly
! ill. I was thunderstruck, on entering his
room one morning, to find him in a high fever
and delirium, quite unable to recognize me.
The physician of the place, whom the landla-
dy of our little hotel Immediately sent for, did
not come for hours; and such hours as those,
may 1 never live through again! At last he
arrived, but only to tell me that there was lit
tie hope of my fathers recovery. He did all
he could, however, and at length papa SEEM
ed better ; but when the Fever left him, he was
feeble as child, and his mind seemed as help
less as his body. He talked in a rambling
way of the days at New Haven, of his church
and congregation there, and sometimes of
Ralph asked wherehe (Ralph) was, and why
we had not seen him for so long We had
not, indeed, seen Or heard of him for months,
and my heart often sank with the fear that
something had happened to him, or he had
forgotten us. By nightfall papa grew worse
again. All through the night watched him,
doing what could for his relief. He now be-
gan to speak of the likelihood Of dying, and
of my being left in strange place alone and
I, what could I say to comfort him? MY own
heart smote me with the dread that his hours
were numbered and soon, too soon, my FORE
boding was realized Before the sun rose up
on another day, was an orphan, and DESC
lateindeed.


Papa had said something, during his more
collected moments, of my writing or sending
to my aunts Margrove, my nearest living
relatives next To him. But dreaded, in
expressibly forcing myself upon their notice.
They had always pointedly neglected me, NOT
having approved of my mothers marriage,
and felt that 1 would rather go out as a
governess, or even sew afor my living, than
ask for their bounty.


Those two dreadful days that followed,
can ever forget them? As I write, the pic
ture of my loneliness, my desolation rises up
vividly before me. see myself sitting by the
bed on which lay the remains of my precious
father, utterly crushed and incapable OF
framing thought or plan for the future
The world truly seemed dark one to me
then, and 1 felt that would gladly die. Up
to the time of the funeral, I did not seem to
be 50 much alone; but when that was over,
and the cold earth hid my fathers face for.
ever from my view, I felt that every human
tie was severed, and that I had nowhere to
turn for refuge. The landlady was very,
very kind. If she had been a near relative
she could not have done more for me. But
she was only a stranger, after all and human
sympathy, even the sympathy Of those near
and dear to us, is of little avail in all hour Of
such sorrow as mine.


thought would remain at Woodburn,
at any rate for few days, until l could de-
eide upon some plan. felt that must
have some leisure to collect my thoughts. On
the evening of the day after the funeral, as l
sat alone in my little bedroom, brooding in
dull, stupid way over my trouble-tor was
almost too dazed to think-Mrs. Newton, the
landlady, knocked at my door.


"a friend, Miss, wishes to see you," she
said.


"a friend /" echoed, amazed; for I had
formed no acquaintance in the place. "Can
you tell who it is?'


"No, Miss, except that it's gentleman
and mighty nice-looking one, too-it's one
ofyour home folks, I guess"


My heart told me that it was Ralph, and
T was not mistaken. AS entered the par
lor, and he came forward and took my hands
in his, a mixture of emotions overpowered
me and I burst into an uncomfortable fit Of
weeping. He led me to a seat, and soothed
me with every expression Of tenderness. In
deed, it was then, for the first time, that !
realized how dear was to him.


"My poor child" he said, 81 am shocked
beyond measure to hear of your loss, and to
find what a forlorn situation you are placed
in. I wish to Heaven had reached this
place sooner What are you going to do
next?"


"Indeed," said I, "that is impossible for me
to say"


"Have you no plans'" he asked in surprise


"Not yet," was my answer. "The truth is,
T have been too bewildered to think. sup,
pose 1 must write to my aunt, if can't find
employment here"


"Employment2 Good heavens!' excited
ly cried Ralph. He jumped up and walked
about the room. looking more excited and