Muscatine weekly journal. [volume] (Muscatine, Iowa) 185?-1890, 1862-12-12
THE DAUGHTERS SACRIFICE.

through the narrow streets and alleys. Mary
was pale, sim girl, but possessing beauty
which the most fastidious could not have
questioned. Her hair, which was of deep
golden brown, lay neatly waving upon brow
as pure as snow, and the soft lustrous eyes,
which seemed to have the same deep, golden
hue, shed light from the soul which could
only have emanated from a source of purity
and worth. She had seen eight-and- twenty
years of life. and yet she remained maiden,
beneath her fathers roof. A close calculator
of physiognomy would have said that Mary
had some heart-grief that made her look so
pale. So she had lost bereaved mother
when she was twenty, and since that she had
seen one brother and one elder sister laid
away in the tomb. She sat now with her
small white hands clasped over her bosom,
and her eyes turned downward till the long
lashes lay like golden pencilines upon her
check.
Near her in a great armchair sat her father.
He was tall, slim man, whose head was
white, and whose face was deeply furrowed
by the hand of time There were some kind
marks upon his features, and some hard, cold
ones; but nov he looked troubled and I'M.
happy.
"Mary" he said, in continuation Of con.
versation already commenced, ''for eight. and
twenty years have found home for you,
and your every wish has been promptly met
and answered. Your good has been my high
est aim, and your peace and happiness my
only joy. You are advancing in years, and
soon your father must leave you alone. But
I-I-cannot leave you at the mercy of
cold world. Now good home is open to you,
and you must accept it. Men might call me
selfish could they know all my motives; but
am sure you will not. A crisis has come
a volcano has grown up beneath my feet In
a few more short days it must whelm me in
utter ruin if I be not saved. Mr.. Smith has
asked me for your hand. He has seen you
at church and has watched you narrowly.
He loves you. He is wealthy-more wealthy
than your father was And he holds notes
bred thousand dollars
notes?" gasped Mary.
"No-only the first of four; but am
holden for the whole. Yet tho quarter part
Of this is more than sufficient to ruin me-"
"And MIR. Smith makes my hand the equiv
alent?"
eyes. OIL must say, he has not said
so. But he knows my situation, and know
ing it, he has asked for the hand Of my child.
All, Mary, it does seem to me that God has
kept your hand until now, that it might be
the means of lifting your old father up from
ruin. You have even rejected suitors whom
have favored; but do not think you have
rejected better man than Mr.. Smith,"
All, that old man had forgotten one! He
had forgotten a bright-haired youth who had
laid his heart at Mary's feet But that was
long agone, and his mind went not back so
far.
"Now what shall tell MIR. SMITH"
"My heart is all broken and torn" she
said, gazing sadly into her fathers face, "but
my hand is free. Tell Mr.. Smith this. Tell
him will give my hand to save my father,
and forget not to tell him that my heart is
not in the trade. for would deceive him."
20, you will love him, Mary. He has
promised you shall have all you can ask for,
and hope he will be kind"
II have said will marry him." the fair
maiden returned, "and SO you may tell him.
But you would cruelty deceive him did you
tell him no more. Te. him my father has
cared for me and protected me through a
weary life, and that now am ready to save
that father from ruin. Tell him this, and then
he shall know all''
81 shall tell him to come tomorrow even.
ing, Mary, for so be wishes o, know you
will be happy. Hc will make you one of the
best husbands. he is rich-very rich"
I'm what, my father" u
The old man started at these words, for
they were spoken very strangely.
i'm the goods Of this world, and in-in-
honor and manhood" he replied.
Mary did not speak further, che did not
wish to worry her father. She knew that his
soul was already tortured by misfortune and
commercial calamity, and sh, would not
make her sacrifice for him ungrateful, by
casting shade Of reproach upon him.
Ere long old Andrew oGoldthwait allowed
bis feelings to run in more pleasing chan
mel. The ruin which stared him in the face
was to be averted, and in his soul he believed
that his child would not be one whit worse
off for the transaction. He knew Mr.. Smith
to be wealthy, and he believed him to be a
kind and honorable man. He fancied too
that he could look into and read his daugh.
ter's heart. He thought she wept and sor.
rowed for the mother, brother and sister she
had lost, and that she objected to this match
because she had resolved not to marry But
he hattered himself that at the end of the
first year of married life he should find her a
happy wife. - -s*-& af~ Z
On the following evening, Mary again sat
BY the CRATE in the drawing room. She was
alone now, and her face was more pale than
usual. But she was calm-calm IS the mar
bic statue that stood near her. .
The outer door vas opened, and she heard
the tread of heavy feet in the hall. Then the
inner door swung back, and her father enter.
ed. She looked up and saw another man
it was he to whom she had promised her
hand; the man whose money was to save her
parent.
Mr.. ,Ooldthwait introduced Mr.. Smith.
Mary arose and extended her hand. It was
cold, but 1t did not tremble. She looked up
into his face, and she saw man of medium
hight, with . high brow, dark eyes, and q
neatly trimmed beard. He greeted her po-
litely, and then took seat. eEs i |
Some half an hour was spent in conversas
ton, mostly between the two men, and then
the remarks grew gradually less, until
silence ensued Nearly ten minutes elapsed
before smother word was spoken, and the still-
ness was bccoming oppressive. when the
visitor broke the spell. s2artss'sss
Miss Goldthwait," be said, in low solt
tone, 'syou aSe Of course awaseof the object
Of my visit here this evening, and know you
WI pardon me il speak plainly. !" ass Il /
J Nary lecasd up, bat shs nsas - teply. /
.ts@ss,t 1851 .ss e1sssi .s@es sn sssss z ,sxess