It was the engineer's wife and daughter.
"'Mamma,' said the young lady. 'I must read you Madelene's letter. Poor,
dear Madelene, it's just too sorrowful and romantic for anything.'
"Madelene! I hadn't heard that name pronounced for three years. It was
wrong, I knew it, but I listened.
"'Poor dear, she was awfully hurt and disfigured in a railroad wreck.'
"It was _my_ Madelene they were talking about. Wild horses could not
have dragged me from the spot.
"The girl read something like this. I know for I've read that letter a
hundred times. It's in this pile here.
"'Dear Lottie: Your ever welcome'--'no, not that.'
"'Uncle Andrew is going'--'let me see, Oh! yes, here it is, now listen
Mamma,' said the girl.
"'Dear Schoolmate. I have never told a soul about my troubles or my
trials, for long I could not bear to think of them myself. But lately I
have seen it in its true light, and have come to the conclusion that I
have no right to moan my life away. I'm past all that, there is nothing
for me to live for in myself, but my life is spared for some purpose,
and I propose to devote it to doing good to others'--'isn't she a sweet
soul, mamma?'
"'After I came to live with Uncle Andrew, I was very happy, it seemed
like a release from prison.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122