SHOCKED as was Emily Winters at the sight of Andrew, bleeding in thehands of the watchman, and by the subsequent newspaper report of hisbad conduct; and estranged from her early regard for him, as she hadbeen, by these and other things that she had heard, the young girlcould not entirely banish from her mind the image of the boy who hadbeen to her so gentle and affectionate since the early and innocentdays of childhood. In spite of all her efforts to turn her thoughtsaway from him, they were ever turning toward him; and, as timepassed on, and his long absence left all in doubt concerning hisfate, his memory became to her something like a hallowed thing.
In passing on to the estate of womanhood, Emily, who possessed morethan common beauty, attracted admirers, and from two or three ofthese she received offers of marriage. But in each case the suitorhad failed to win her heart, and she was too true a woman to giveher hand to any one unless her heart could go also.
In at least one case her father took sides with the lover, and urgedhis suit with a degree of feeling that resulted in a partialestrangement of affection. But he afterward had cause to be wellsatisfied with Emily's decision in the case.
On the morning that had succeeded the day of Andrew Howland's returnto P--, Emily Winters, who had long since ceased to think of theyoung man as alive, was informed that a gentleman had called, andwished to see her.
"Who is he?" was the natural inquiry.
"I don't know," replied the servant.
"You should have asked his name."
"I did so, but he said that it was no matter."
After making some slight change in her dress, Emily went down to theparlor. As she entered, a gentleman arose and advanced a few stepstoward her.
"Miss Winters!" said he, while he fixed his eyes intently on herface.
The young lady bowed slightly in return, while she looked at himinquiringly.
"You don't know me?" said the stranger, with perceptibledisappointment in his voice.
Emily dropped her eyes for a moment to the floor, and then liftedthem again to his countenance. There was a gentle suffusion on herface, as she slowly shook her head.
"I have seen you before," she remarked, "but I cannot, at thismoment, tell where."
"Years have passed since we met," replied the stranger, withsomething of sadness in his voice; "but I had hoped you would notforget me."
As he spoke, he came nearer, and held out his hand, which Emily didnot hesitate to take.
At the moment of this contact, a light flashed on the maiden's face,and she exclaimed, with sudden emotion--
"Andrew Howland! Can it be?"
And she stepped back a pace or two, and sunk upon a chair. Andrewdid not relinquish her hand, but sat down by her side, replying, ashe did so--
"Yes, Emily, it is even so. After a long, long absence, I have comeback to my old home, wiser and better, I trust, than when I wentaway."
It was some time before Emily looked up or replied; but she did notmake a motion to withdraw the hand which Andrew held with no slightpressure.
"How often, Emily," continued Andrew, seeing that she remainedsilent, "have I thought of the sweet hours we spent together aschildren--hours, too often, of stolen delight. Their remembrancehas, many a time, saved me from evil when strongly tempted. But forthat, and the memory of my mother, I should long since have become acastaway on the ocean of life."
The voice of Andrew became tremulous as he uttered the lastsentence. It was then that Emily raised her eyes from the floor,gently withdrawing her hand at the same time, and fixed them uponhis face. His words had sent her thoughts back to the old time whenthey were children together, and when, to be within him, was one ofher highest pleasures; and, not only that, his words and tones hadreached her heart, and awakened therein an echo.
"It is a long time since you went away," said Emily. "A very longtime."
"Yes; it is a long time. But, the weary slow-passing years areended, and I am back again among early scenes and old friends, andback, I trust, to remain."
"How is your mother?" inquired Emily, after a slight pause.
"I found her much changed--older by twice the number of years thathave elapsed since I went away."
But all that passed between Andrew Howland and Emily Winters in thehour they spent together at this first meeting, after so long anabsence, we cannot write. For a time, their intercourse was markedby a reserve and embarrassment on the part of Emily; but thisinsensibly wore off, and, ere the young man went away, their hearts,if not their lips, had spoken to each other almost as freely as inthe days of childhood.
Not many months elapsed ere the tender regard that was spontaneouslyawakened in their bosoms when children, and which had never ceasedto exist, led them into a true marriage union, to which no oneraised even a whisper of opposition. Almost at the very time thatAndrew was holding his first interview with Emily, Mr. Winters waslistening to a brief account of his return, with some of thepleasing incidents immediately attendant thereon. In a meeting withthe young man shortly afterward, he was (sic) prepossesed in hisfavor, and when he saw that he was disposed to renew the oldintimate relations with Emily, he did not in the least object.
Thus, after a lapse of over twenty-five years, two families, eachpossessed of substantial virtues, and with social qualities forminga plane for reciprocal good feeling, but which had been forced apartby the narrow prejudice and iron will of Mr. Howland, came togetherin a marriage of two of its members. Alas! how much of wrong andsuffering appertained to that long period during which they werethus held apart! How many scars from heart-wounds were left; andthese not always painless!
Can any summing up of the causes and consequences set forth in ourstory give force to the lessons it teaches? We think not; andtherefore leave it with the reader to do its own work.
THE END.
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