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Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

I wished he could have been my
lover then, in fact, I often wished it, for he was as good as he was
handsome, both noble hearted and noble looking. He was to me the
embodiment of all that was good and all that went to make the best man
in the world.
"Emily," he began, "you have been a blessed sister to me; I have loved
you always, even though I plagued you so much, and you have been
faithful to me. I entrusted to you the first great secret of my life,
when I sought you under the apple tree."
"Why could you not have told me more?" I said.
"For the sole reason it would have been hard for you to have kept it
from mother, and I wanted to surprise you all at home. Your hand, Emily,
was the one that held the cup of life to my lips; and Louis," he added
in a tender tone, "with his sympathy and the power of his heart and
hand, led me slowly back to strength. Louis is a grand boy. Now, Emily,"
and he drew me still closer, "I have something else to tell you."
"Don't go away, Hal."
"I desire to stay, but, Emily, I love Mary Snow. I want to tell you of
it. I cannot speak positively as to what may happen, but I love her very
dearly. Could you be glad to receive her as a sister?"
Selfish thoughts arose at the thought of losing Hal, but I banished them
at once, and my heart spoke truly when I said:
"Mary Snow is good enough for you, Hal. I have always liked her so much,
but how stupid I am, never to have dreamed of this."
"No?" said he, as if surprised.


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