Oh, Man can seek the downward glance,
And each kind word--affection’s spell-- Eye, voice, its value can enhance;
For eye may speak, and tongue can tell. But Woman’s love, it waits the while
To echo to another’s tone, To linger on another’s smile
Ere dare to answer with its own. He bent his head, and passed through the lowly door. As his foot sounded upon the threshold, a young woman advanced from the dusky interior of the house, at first hastily, and then with a more uncertain step, till they met face to face. There was a singular contrast in their two figures; he dark and picturesque --one who had battled with the world--whom all suns had shone upon, and whom all winds had blown on a varied course; she neat, comely, and quiet--quiet even in her agitation--as if all her emotions had been subdued to the peaceful tenor of her life. Yet their faces, all unlike as they were, had an expression that seemed not so alien--a glow of kindred feeling, flashing upward anew from half-extinguished embers.
“You are welcome home!” said Faith Egerton.
But Cranfield did not immediately answer; for his eye had been caught by an ornament in the shape of a Heart, which Faith wore as a brooch upon her bosom. The material was the ordinary white quartz; and he recollected having himself shaped it out of one of those Indian arrow-heads, which are so often found in the ancient haunts of the red men. It was precisely on the pattern of that worn by the visionary Maid. When Cranfield departed on his shadowy search he had bestowed this brooch, in a gold setting, as a parting gift to Faith Egerton.
“So, Faith, you have kept the Heart!” said he, at length.
“Yes,” said she, blushing deeply--then more gaily, “and what else have you brought me from beyond the sea?”
“Faith!” replied Ralf Cranfield, uttering the fated words by an uncontrollable impulse, “I have brought you nothing but a heavy heart! May I rest its weight on you?”
“This token, which I have worn so long,” said Faith, laying her tremulous finger on the Heart, “is the assurance that you may!”
“Faith! Faith!” cried Cranfield, clasping her in his arms, “you have interpreted my wild and weary dream!”
Yes; the wild dreamer was awake at last. To find the mysterious treasure, he was to till the earth around his mother’s dwelling, and reap its products! Instead of warlike command, or regal or religious sway, he was to rule over the village children! And now the visionary Maid had faded from his fancy, and in her place he saw the playmate of his childhood! Would all, who cherish such wild wishes, but look around them, they would oftenest find their sphere of duty, of prosperity, and happiness, within those precincts, and in that station where Providence itself has cast their lot. Happy they who read the riddle without a weary world-search, or a lifetime spent in vain!
GIHON & KUCHER, BOOK BINDERS, CORNER OF GEORGE AND SWANWICK STREETS, PHILADELPHIA.
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The Threefold Destiny: A Fairy Legend, by Ashley Allen Royce [pseud.] Page 2