The river rolls on with its heaving swell, and the white foam is
tossed towards the shore, while the soft summer air still bears on its
wing the sound of the cataract's roar. But Margaret sees it not, hears
it not. There is a spell upon her now--a halo of joy; and she only
knows that a strong arm is around her, and a voice is in her ear,
whispering that the bosom on which her weary head is pillowed shall be
her resting place forever.
It had come to her suddenly, sitting there thus--the footfall upon the
sand had not been heard--the shadow upon the grass had not been seen,
and his presence had not been felt, till, bending low, Mr. Carrollton
said aloud, "My Maggie!"
Then indeed she started up, and turned to see who it was that thus so
much like him had called her name. She saw who it was, and looking
in his face she knew she was not hated, and with a moaning cry went
forward to the arm extended to receive her.
* * * * *
Four guests, instead of one, went forth that afternoon from the
International--four guests homeward bound, and eager to be there. No
more journeying now for happiness; no more searching for the lost; for
both are found; both are there--happiness and Maggie Miller.
CHAPTER XXIV.
HOME.
Impatient, restless, and cross, Madam Conway lay in Margaret's room,
scolding Theo and chiding Mrs. Jeffrey, both of whom, though trying
their utmost to suit her, managed unfortunately to do always just what
she wished them not to do.
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