Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 27, 2025
However, at last I convinced her that I was no other than the long-lost Willand Wetherholm. She told me how my grandmother had long mourned at my absence, still believing that I was alive and would return, and always praying for my safety. At length she sickened to the last expecting to see me.
I'm Willand Wetherholm, your nephew!" "You my nephew! I heard that without doubt he was dead. Yet let me look at you, boy!" she exclaimed, taking both my hands and fixing her eyes on my countenance. "Yes, you are Willand you are my own dear boy welcome, welcome back to life, and to one who loved you as her own son!" And she flung her arms round my neck and burst into tears.
Won't that be the best life for Willand, grannie? It's what he is just fitted for, and there isn't another like it." I shook my head. All these pictures of rural felicity or of mercantile grandeur had no charms for me.
I felt even as if I could not pray. I had sat thus for some time, when I felt a hand pressed on my shoulder. "Willand, is it you you indeed, lad?" said a voice, in a kindly tone which I felt I ought to know. I looked up. Before me stood a fine, sailor-like looking fellow. I scanned his countenance narrowly, and then springing to my feet put out my hand.
Three or four men evidently just pressed, and who showed a strong disinclination to go and serve their country, were being dragged along by one of the gangs. I could not help pitying the poor fellows; so did my wife. "Oh, Willand," said she, "how thankful I am that you are not among them!"
The stars came out, and the moon shone forth, playing brightly on the tranquil waters, just rippled over with a light breeze, which sent us along smoothly on our course. Margaret sat on the deck with me, watching the scene with a delighted eye and thankful heart. Our conversation was far too solemn for repetition. "Oh, Willand, never let us again doubt God's mercy and kindness towards us.
"Be content to stay at home, laddie, and make her happy." "Oh, that ye will, Willand dear," chimed in Aunt Bretta; "we'll get a wee shoppie for ye, and may be ye'll become a great merchant, or we'll just rent a croft up the country here, and ye shall keep cows, and sheep, and fowls, and ye shall plough, and sow, and reap, and be happy as the day is long.
"Oh, Willand! ye dinna ken what harm ye have done, laddie," said Aunt Bretta, as I parted from her to go to roost in my little attic room, which she had fitted up so neatly for my use.
She presently made her appearance, having laid aside her walking dress. I felt myself completely at home in a moment, she looked so exactly as she had done when I last saw her on that delightful evening I spent at Plymouth, and I so well remembered her in the days of my boyhood. "Well, Willand, I am glad to see you," said she in a kinder tone than usual.
"Can you swear that your name is not Willand Wetherholm, and that this is not your signature?" asked the President, and the paper was shown me, "That is my name, and that is my signature, but I didn't put it to any document of that sort.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking