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 SUNSHINE AFTER CLOUDS.

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��der if anyone in the world ever did, or ever will live just such a life as he or she fondly hoped and expected to live. For example, one sees upon a rose- bush, a fair, perfect rose, and essays to pluck it, when lo ! at a touch the leaves fall out and lay upon the ground be- neath, or if perchance allowed to gather it in its beauty, there are thorns hidden from sight that were little thought of. Just so with many — I had nearly said most lives. The future seems "bright with promise," but often, too often, we find that " distance lends enchant- ment to the view." But to return to my story. " Not much better than a hovel, William," she said, the tears coming afresh to her eyes. " But, in- deed, I never regretted my marriage until he took to drink." Forgive me, sister, I was wrong to speak as I did, but the surprise and sorrow of finding you like this must be my excuse. How many children have you?" "Two, living. My Willie died when only two years of age. I thought it hard to part with him then, but I am so glad now that he was spared this misery and his father's wretched example. Clara, my eldest daughter, is married. Margie is at work in the factory, and it is to her that I look for what few comforts I have. Ah, brother ! my life is not much like the one I knew when I was Margaret Roden. When father disin- herited me, I thought my heart would break, at first, for I missed you all so much ; but you were kind to me, and my home, tho' humble, was neat and comfortable, and I had all the real necessaries of life. That was twenty years ago, brother, and for ten years, all went well. We had two lovely daughters, and when our little Willie was born, we thought our cup of hap- piness nearly full, especially as Tom was succeeding very well in business. When only two years old, our lovely boy was taken from us, and soon after we lost about five thousand dollars at one time, and two thousand more at another, nearly all we had. I never blamed Tom for that, but with all the trouble, he got discouraged, took to drinking, and so things have gone from

��bad to worse. I have lost my health, and the end for me is not far distant. And now, after all these years, why are you here?" She paused, exhausted, and leaned her head upon her clasped hands. "Let me help you to the louuge, that you may rest there while I tell you my story," said her brother, and he tenderly assisted her to the mis- erable apology for a lounge, and adjusted the cushion as handily as Margie could have done. Lastly he threw a comforter over the invalid, then after waiting until the violent coughing spell, which racked her poor frame, was over, he said sadly :

" Father died six months ago, and since that time mother and I have sought foi you, advertised in dailies, far and near, with no success whatever. Mother was discouraged, but I would not give up. I had secretly been on the search for many long years, sister. Do not think you have been forgotten. I arrived here day before yesterday and began a search with little or no hope of success. Last night I saw a young lady enter a small grocery store, and her likeness to yourself startled me. I followed her, intending to question her, but I saw that the proprietor knew and trusted her, so I waited until after she had left the store, and then made inquiries. At first he would tell me nothing, but when I told him my rea- sons for inquiring, he gladly told me all I wished to now, with one exception, he did not know where you lived. He promised to ascertain as soon as possi- ble and let me know. This morning he came to my hotel with the desired information, and I hastened hither at once." "Did my father ever forgive me?" asked Mrs. Benson, huskily. "Yes, Margaret, and wished so much to see you before he died, that he might ask your -forgiveness. His death was very sudden. He had no time to alter his will, but he trusted me to give you one half of his property, and I gladly promised to do so, if I could find you. Thank God, I have suc- ceeded." "And mother is well," asked Mrs. Benson. "Yes, Margaret."

"Have you no family, William?"

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