It was the thought of a lonely man, wandering without aim or goal in

far-distant deserts; away from home and friends; joyless, hopeless.

One who was dearer to her than all on earth beside; who had left her

in anger, and upon whose loved face she might look no more. For

three years no tidings had come of his wanderings; none knew his

fate; and, perhaps, even then his proud head lay low beneath the

palms of the Orient, or was pillowed on the coral crags of distant

seas. This thought was one she was unable to endure; her features

quivered, her hands grasped each other in a paroxysm of dread

apprehension, and, while a deep groan burst from her lips, she bowed

her face on. the head of his last charge, his parting gift. The

consciousness of his unbelief tortured her. Even in eternity they

might meet no more; and this fear cost her hours of agony, such as

no other trial had ever inflicted. From the moment of her return to

the Bible and to prayer this struggle began, and for three years she

had knelt, morning and evening, and entreated Almighty God to shield

and guide the wanderer; to scatter the mists of unbelief which

shrouded his mind. Constantly her prayers went up, mingled with

tears and sobs, and, as weary months wore on, the petitions grew

more impassioned. Her anxiety increased daily, and finally it became

the one intense, absorbing wish of her heart to see her guardian

again. His gloom, his bitterness were all forgotten; she only

remembered his unceasing care and kindness, his noble generosity,

his brilliant smile, which was bestowed only on her. Pressing her

face against Charon's head, she murmured pleadingly: "Oh, Father, protect him from suffering and death! Guide him safely

home. Give me my guardian back. Oh, Father, give me my wandering

friend once more!"




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