“Oh, my son, my son!” cried Marie, trying to repress her emotion, as she took his wasted hand in hers, and kissed the pale cheeks that sickness and suffering had blanched.  Harry was very weak, but her presence was a call to life.  He returned the pressure of her hand, kissed it, and his eyes grew full of sudden light, as he murmured faintly, but joyfully:—­

“Mamma; oh, mamma! have I found you at last?”

The effort was too much, and he immediately became unconscious.

Anxious, yet hopeful, Marie sat by the bedside of her son till consciousness was restored.  Caressingly she bent over his couch, murmuring in her happiness the tenderest, sweetest words of motherly love.  In Harry’s veins flowed new life and vigor, calming the restlessness of his nerves.

As soon as possible Harry was carried to his mother’s home; a home brought into the light of freedom by the victories of General Grant.  Nursed by his mother’s tender, loving care, he rapidly recovered, but, being too disabled to re-enter the army, he was honorably discharged.

Lorraine had taken Marie to Vicksburg, and there allowed her to engage in confectionery and preserving for the wealthy ladies of the city.  He had at first attempted to refugee with her in Texas, but, being foiled in the attempt, he was compelled to enlist in the Confederate Army, and met his fate by being killed just before the surrender of Vicksburg.

“My dear son,” Marie would say, as she bent fondly over him, “I am deeply sorry that you are wounded, but I am glad that the fortunes of war have brought us together.  Poor Iola!  I do wonder what has become of her?  Just as soon as this war is over I want you to search the country all over.  Poor child!  How my heart has ached for her!”

Time passed on.  Harry and his mother searched and inquired for Iola, but no tidings of her reached them.

Having fully recovered his health, and seeing the great need of education for the colored people, Harry turned his attention toward them, and joined the new army of Northern teachers.

He still continued his inquiries for his sister, not knowing whether or not she had succumbed to the cruel change in her life.  He thought she might have passed into the white basis for the sake of bettering her fortunes.  Hope deferred, which had sickened his mother’s heart, had only roused him to renewed diligence.

A school was offered him in Georgia, and thither he repaired, taking his mother with him.  They were soon established in the city of A——.  In hope of finding Iola he visited all the conferences of the Methodist Church, but for a long time his search was in vain.

“Mamma,” said Harry, one day during his vacation, “there is to be a Methodist Conference in this State in the city of S——­, about one hundred and fifty miles from here.  I intend to go and renew my search for Iola.”

“Poor child!” burst out Marie, as the tears gathered in her eyes, “I wonder if she is living.”