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Ewell, Martha Lewis Beckwith, 1841-1902

"The Harvest of Years"

I could not stay there and cry, I must
pass Clara's door to go to my room, and throwing a shawl over my
shoulders I rushed out, and fairly flew over the frozen ground to that
dear old apple tree. What a strange place to go to, standing under those
bare limbs, or rather walking to and fro, but I could not help it! This
same old tree had heard my cries and seen my tears for years. I covered
my face with both hands, and wept aloud. I could not have been there
long, when I felt a presence, and Louis was beside me.
Putting an arm around me, he said tenderly, "Come in, Emily."
"Oh, Louis!" I cried, "I cannot, they will see my face, what shall I do?
how came you here?" and I still kept crying and sobbing as if my heart
would break.
"Why Emily, my royal Emily, come into little mother's room,--she has
lain down,--and tell me why you weep."
I yielded gratefully, not gracefully, and we were seated alone, all
alone, and he was saying to me:
"Emily, tell me what it is, you have troubled me so long, your eyes have
grown so sad. Oh! Emily, my darling, may I not know your secret sorrow?
I can wait longer, my year has flown, and three months more, and still
my heart is waiting; tell me your sorrow, and then let me say to you
what I have waited in patience to repeat."
It was not a dream, my heart beat like a bird, and I could tell him,
only too gladly. "Emily will do it."


CHAPTER XV.
EMILY FINDS PEACE.

As soon as I could control my voice I said, "I cannot tell you why I cry
so bitterly.


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