THE PRAIRIE F L OW E R; OR,
"O, mollier," she cried, " I have heard ood tidings!"
O
"All true, every word," returned her mother, gaily. "My physician lias pro nounced me out of danger;" and slie playfully pointed to me.
"God be praised!" cried Lilian fervent ly. "What a miracle is this! and how it relieves my anguished heart!"
Then turning upon me her sweet, p;ile, lovely countenance her full, soft, blue eyes, moist with tears she partly extend ed her hand, and gasped my name.
The next instant, regardless of the time, place, and the presence of others, she was clasped in my arms, strained to my heav ing breast, and my lips were pressed to hers in the holy kiss of mutual love. It was a blissful moment, notwithstanding- all we had both suffered. But it was a moment only; for the next she sprang away, blushing and abashed at what she doubtless considered her own boldness.
"You're a wonderful docther, your honor," whispered Teddy in my ear. i' Faith! ye jist looks at 'em, and jabbers a few Lath in names, and they're betther'n they iver was afore they've time to know what ailed 'em, jist and, troth! a hug ging ye at that, too, the purtiest one among 'em. Is it knowing thim ye is- or does the likes of her kiss by raason of yees being a docthor? Jabers! it's what I'd like done to mesilf, no\v, in any pertishion."
"Hush! Teddy. These" are the sis ter and mother of my lost friend."
"Howly St. Path rick in the morning! ye don't say!" exclaimed Teddy, stag gering back with surprise.
"Hush!" I whispered in his ear, catch ing him by the arm, with a grip sufficient to impress the importance of my words. "Not a syllable concerning Huntly, as
"O / '
you value your life! '
"Och!" returned Teddy, placing his finger to his lips, winking his eye, and nodding his head " I'm dumb as a dead nager, I is."
This caution was not made any too soon; for the next moment Mrs. Huntly exclaim ed:
"But, Francis, where is my son where is Charles that he does not make his ap pearance?"
"O, yes, my brother?" cried Lilian.
I was suddenly seized with a serious fit of coughing, so as to gain time for a reply. It would not do to let them know the true state of the case, and I could not think of telling them a falsehood. A happy thought struck me, and I answered :
"Charles is not with me."
"Indeed! Where is lie, then? " cried both in a breath.
"We parted in California; I left him going eastward; and, for what I know, he may be now in Boston."
"God help him, then, when he hears the awful news, and finds himself home less and friendless, poor boy!" cried Mrs, Huntly, with a burst of grief, in which Lilian joined.
I how inquired what had happened, and learned, in the course of conversation, much of that which I have already given the reader.
"Poor Charles!" I sighed to myself, "it is well if thou art dead. Better be dead, than return to thy once happy home, only to find thy friends gone, and thyself a beggar!"
With Lilian and her mother, in their misfortunes, I sympathized deeply; but fearing these saddening thoughts mighl prove injurious to Mrs. Huntly, I hastened to console her by saying :
"We should bear in mind that all art born to die; that riches are unstable; and that whatever happens, is always for the best, though we be not able to see it at the time." 3
"That I believe to be the true philoso phy of life," said a middle-aged lady at my side, whom, with her daughter, a meet companion for Lilian, I had more than ence noticed, as possessing superior ac complishments; but, under the excitement [ was laboring, I had failed to closely scan the features of either. I now turned at once to the speaker, and was immediately introduced, by Lilian, to Madame Morti mer and her daughter Eva.
"Strange!" I said to myself, as, bow ing to each, I became struck with the familiarity of their features. " I have seen these faces before, methinks but where I cannot tell."
The name, however, perplexed me for I had no remembrance of ever befcro be ing introduced to a Mortimer.
