"
So the next Thanksgiving was to be the wedding day.
* * * * *
In a luxuriously-furnished apartment, surrounded by everything that
contributes to make life pleasant, sat an old man.
Every now and then he would raise his bowed head from the clasped
hands, gaze anxiously around the room, and then, with a deep sigh,
relapse again into his attitude of grief and despair. At last he
speaks:
"Thanksgiving night again, and, for the first time in fifteen years,
she has failed to hover round me, and I have not heard the sighing
voice inquire: 'Where is my boy? How did you keep your promised word?'
Oh! perhaps the mother has found her child. He may be with her now.
Oh! I would give everything--my poor, miserable life--to recall that
terrible day's injustice. My brave, noble boy! and how were you
repaid? Oh! I have suffered terribly for all my neglect and wrong of
my motherless boy! All gone from me, all the healthy, beautiful
children; all taken away! We were not worthy of those precious gifts.
God took them to himself. Now, what comfort do all these riches bring
me? Nothing! nothing! and my poor, childless wife! How bitterly she
has repented her wrong!
"Oh, Willie! Willie, my boy! Where are you now?"
"Here, father, here! kneeling, and waiting for your love and
blessing.
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