“Yes,” said Harry, “that is true, Doctor, and here is a packet of letters for you; and here, Lottie, is one for you.”
“O! Viola, this is from Scottie; I know her hand.”
“Read it,” said Viola; “I am anxious to hear what she has to say.”
Lottie tore off the envelope hurriedly, and read as follows:
“‘Jackson, Miss., May 4th.
“‘DEAR LOTTIE—I received your dear letter yesterday, and hasten to reply. I am too happy to write a long letter. Papa has at last become reconciled with Ralleigh, and has given his consent to our marriage, which is to be solemnized next Thursday. Ralleigh is such a dear, good old fellow, and I do believe he loves me with all his heart. My dear, good old papa did not like Ralleigh at first, but he has gotten over his prejudice, and they are now the best of friends. Ralleigh has quit politics, and is doing well at the law; and, oh! Lottie, how I do love him. I know we shall be very happy, for I have got my temper completely subdued, and I mean to make him a good, devoted wife. Ralleigh told me that your daughter was the prettiest little darling in the world. I am glad you named it Lottie, because you know how I adore that sweet name. Ralleigh says that Viola’s boy is the very image of his mother; he also tells me that Viola and Harry were the happiest couple he had ever seen, except you and Eddie. Well, I am delighted to hear it. If ever people deserved to be happy you and Viola do; because you have suffered more than your share. I think your husband is one of the noblest specimens of humanity I ever saw. This is saying a great deal, but I mean it, and Ralleigh agrees with me.
“‘I must tell you what a pretty joke was put upon me by the Rev. C. K. Marshall, a celebrated minister of Vicksburg. He had been holding a series of meetings here, and was a frequent visitor at our house. He is an eloquent orator, and much admired and beloved by all who know him. My darling old papa is a member of his church, and would swim a river any time to hear him preach. When Mr. Marshall was about to start to his home in Vicksburg, he invited me to accompany him. “If you will go with me,” he said, “I will insure you to hear one of the most eloquent sermons that you ever listened to, from a mere boy, who has lately been licensed to preach.” Of course I went, as my curiosity was aroused; and Mr. Marshall took me to church the same night we arrived at Vicksburg. Now, I had neglected to ask the name of the boy preacher, so intent was I engaged in drawing his picture in my mind. The church was a very large one, and when Mr. Marshall led me in, the house was crowded, but he succeeded in securing me a seat in one corner, some distance from the pulpit. The music was splendid; the choir sang with deep feeling. Then a pause, and I riveted my eyes on the pulpit, intently watching for the appearance of this wonderful boy. After gazing until I was tired and impatient, I picked up a hymn book, and began to turn the leaves over, when the sweet, solemn tones of a familiar voice fell on my ears. Looking up at the pulpit, there I saw Harry Wallingford reading his text. If a whizzing cannon-ball had come crashing through the house I would have been less startled. I had never heard an intimation that Mr. Wallingford was a preacher. I remembered him as a proud, passionate man of ungovernable temper and rather wickedly inclined. I was shedding tears like rain, and it cost me a great struggle to keep from shouting aloud. Now, I mean exactly what I say when I assert that it was the most charming, eloquent sermon that I ever heard. His voice fell on my ears like sweet music, a feeling of delicious joy stole over me, and I was overcome with happy emotions. He closed his sermon with an invitation to sinners to come forward and seek salvation, and I was one among many who accepted the invitation, and oh! my darling friend, I do believe that God, in His great mercy, has pardoned my sins. Mr. Wallingford delivered five sermons here, and the result was one hundred new members to the church.
“‘Mr. Marshall thinks the world and all of Mr. Wallingford. He says that Viola is entitled to the credit of making a preacher of her husband, for she made him promise to serve God before she married him. Well, how could anybody fail to go to Heaven with such an angel to guide as Viola? Do you know that I think she is the best woman on the earth, except one? And you know who that is, of course. If you do not, just look into a mirror, and you will see the one I allude to.
“I have given my hand and heart to a (so-called) rebel, and I mean to show him that a Yankee heart can and will love him; and I wish all the people of the North and South loved each other as well as I love Ralleigh; what a great and glorious nation would ours be! Now good-by, Lottie dear, until we meet, which will be immediately after my marriage. To visit you will be bridal tour enough for me. Yours lovingly,
“‘KATE DARLINGTON.’”