Yesterday
I was perishing in a boundless desert. To-day the desert has
vanished, and I'm in this sweet old garden. There are no flowers
or fruits in it, however, that can compare with the love and truth
I now see in this child's face. I won't speak of the service you
have rendered us both. It's beyond all words."
It was indeed greater than he knew, for Id had concluded never
to speak again of her terrible secret. God had forgiven her, and
nothing was to be gained by any reference to a subject that had
become inexpressibly painful. "Remember," said the staunch and
faithful old man as they were about to drive away, "nothing good
lasts unless built up from the Author of all good. Unless you act
on this truth you'll find yourself in the desert again, and all
you are now enjoying will seem like a mirage."
Poor Mr. Mayhew could not endure to lose a moment of his daughter's
society, for the long thirst of years was to be slaked. They
took a round-about way home, and the summer evening deepened into
twilight and dusk before they approached the hotel.
"See, father, there is the new moon, and it hangs over your right
shoulder," cried Ida, gleefully.
"It's over your right shoulder, too, and that thought pleases me
better still.
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