Parkdale is a lovely
spot just outside of Toronto. I spent the afternoon there, and at nine
o'clock that night left for home. I said good-bye to Mrs. Gowanlock;
after all our sorrows, troubles, dangers, miseries, which we partook
in union, we found it necessary to separate. And although we scarcely
were half a year acquainted, it seemed as if we had been play-mates in
childhood, and companions throughout our whole lives. But, as we could
not, for the present, continue our hand-in-hand journey, we separated
merely physically speaking--for "time has not ages, nor space has not
distance," to sever the recollections of our mutual trials.
I arrived home at 6 o'clock on Monday morning. What were my feelings
as I stepped down from the hack, at that door, where three years
before I stepped up into a carriage, accompanied by my husband! How
different the scene of the bride leaving three years ago, and the
widow returning to-day! Still, on the first occasion there were tears
of regret at parting, and smiles of anticipated pleasure and
happiness--on the second occasion there are tears of memory, and yet
smiles of relief on my escape, and happiness in my safe return.
My story draws to a close "Like a tale that is told," it possesses,
perhaps, no longer any interest for my readers. Yet, before dropping
the veil upon the past, and returning to that life, out of which I had
been forced by adverse circumstances.
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