They were not early risers at Terrace Hill, and the morning following
Adah's flight Anna slept later than usual; nor was it until Willie's
baby cry, calling for mamma, was heard, that she awoke, and thinking
Adah had gone down for something, she bade Willie come to her. Putting
out her arms she lifted him carefully into her own bed, and in doing so
brushed from her pillow the letters left for her. But it did not matter
then, and for a full half hour she lay waiting for Adah's return.
Growing impatient at last, she stepped upon the floor, her bare feet
touching something cold, something which made her look down and find
that she was stepping on a letter--not one, but two--and in wondering
surprise she turned them to the light, half fainting with excitement,
when on the back of the first one examined she saw the old familiar
handwriting, and knew that Charlie had written again!
Anna had hardly been human had she waited an instant ere she tore open
the envelope and learned how many times and with how little success
Charlie Millbrook had written to her since his return from India. He had
not forgotten her. The love of his early manhood had increased with his
maturer years, and he could not be satisfied until he heard from her
that he was remembered and still beloved.
This was Charlie's letter, this what Anna read, feeling far too happy to
be angry at her mother, and delicious tears of joy flowed over her
beautiful face, as, pressing the paper to her lips, she murmured: "Dear Charlie! darling Charlie! I knew he was not false, and I thank the
kind Father for bringing him at last to me."
Hiding it in her bosom, Anna took the other letter then, and throwing
her shawl around her, for she was beginning to shiver with cold, sat
down by the window and read it through--read it once, read it twice,
read it thrice, and then--sure never were the inmates of Terrace Hill
thrown into so much astonishment and alarm as they were that April
morning, when, in her cambric night robe, her long hair falling unbound
about her shoulders, and her bare feet, gleaming white and cold upon the
floor, Miss Anna went screaming from room to room, and asking her
wonder-stricken mother and sisters if they had any idea who it was that
had been an inmate of their house for so many weeks.
"Come with me, then," she almost screamed, and dragging her mother to
her room, where Willie sat up in bed, looking curiously about him and
uncertain whether to cry or to laugh, she exclaimed, "Look at him,
mother, and you, too, Asenath and Eudora!" turning to her sisters, who
had followed. "Tell me who is he like? He is John's child. And Rose was
Lily, the young girl whom you forbade him to marry! Listen, mother, you
shall listen to what your pride has done!" and grasping the bewildered
Mrs. Richards by the arm, Anna held her fast while she read aloud the
letter left by Adah.