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The Wanderer

           Thepeoplewasjustasgoodtome,andIshouldhavegonefromtowntotown,maybethecountrythrough,butthatIgotnewsofherbeingseenamongthemSwissmountainsyonder.Oneasknow’dhisservantsee‘emthere,allthree,andtoldmehowtheytravelled,andwheretheywas.Imadefurthemmountains,Mas’rDavy,dayandnight.EversofurasIwent,eversofurthemountainsseemedtoshiftawayfromme.ButIcomeupwith‘em,andIcrossed‘em.WhenIgotnightheplaceasIhadbeentoldof,Ibegantothinkwithinmyownself,“WhatshallIdowhenIseeher?”’

           Thelisteningface,insensibletotheinclementnight,stilldroopedatthedoor,andthehandsbeggedme—prayedme—nottocastitforth.

           ‘Ineverdoubtedher,’saidMr.Peggotty.‘No!Notabit!On’yletherseemyface—on’yletherbeermyvoiceon’yletmystanningstillaforeherbringtoherthoughtsthehomeshehadfledawayfrom,andthechildshehadbeenandifshehadgrowedtobearoyallady,she’dhavefelldownatmyfeet!Iknow’ditwell!ManyatimeinmysleephadIheerdhercryout,“Uncle!”andseenherfalllikedeathaforeme.ManyatimeinmysleephadIraisedherup,andwhisperedtoher,“Em’ly,mydear,Iamcomefurtobringforgiveness,andtotakeyouhome!”’

           Hestoppedandshookhishead,andwentonwithasigh.

           ‘Hewasnowttomenow.Em’lywasall.

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Roboto Lora
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