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!"