on God had wrought in her feelings.  The restless, anxious expression had given place to quiet.  The eyes had lost their strained, troubled look; the brow was unruffled, the face serene.  Serene, reader, but not happy and sparkling as it might have been.  All the shadows “were not yet banished from her heart; there was one spectral form which thrust itself continually before her and kept her cheek pale and rendered her lip at times unsteady.  She had struggled bravely against this one remaining sorrow; but, as time rolled on, its power and influence only increased.  Even now, in this quiet hour, when a holy hush had fallen on all nature, and twilight wrapped its soft, purple veil around her, this haunting memory came to stir the depths of her heart.  Charon walked slowly up the steps, and, lying down at her feet, nestled his head against her.  Then fancy painted a dreary picture, which

    “Seemed all dark and red—­a tract of sand,
      And someone pacing there alone,
     Who paced forever in a glimmering land,
      Lit with a low, large moon.”

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!”

CHAPTER XXXVII.