The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1871-03-02

| what YOU are now if / had been your
W fe. My genius would have stimr-
/ lated, my affection would have in
spired you! But you knew | was
poor. and you thought If you married
a rich woman-your designs were
frustrated finely though, weren't they !?
| In less than year her father died in
1 solvent, and you pretty, helpless lit
tie girl on your hands, who, if she
had. strength to love, hadn't sense to
| appreciate you.
+" Well, you deserve it all, and I'm
glad of it. L wouldn't give one cent of
the thousands that l possess to save
YOU, or your wife, or child from STAR
vation," and the lady brought down
her clenched hand on the table.
No, not on the table, but on book
| that lay there. No wonder the flush
and the scorn went out from the la
dy's face, for that book was her moth
e7-'s Bible, and the old days when she
read it at her knee, came like far tray
ellers away from her Iifeis morning,
and stood still and reproachfully
about her. She bowed down her fair
face on the old brown cover and wept
and the angel in her heart lifted his
head and whispered, 90 'Eorgire euen
Il long, fierce struggle betwixt the
good and the evil in the soul of Alice
Reade that night. But there was q
new beauty on her face, the beauty of
peace when at last it was lifted from
the old Bible.
Well, Alice, what can l do for you
| this morning? ?"
Mr.. Reade leisurely drew on his
glasses as he asked the question,
! glanciDg admiringly at the graceful
position of his wife, as she sat in her
easy chair, her head cushioned on its
crimsoned back.
He was portly, pompous looking
man, with a shrewd, self satisfied
kind of physiognomy-a fine, well,
unreserved elderly gentleman OH the
whole.
81 thank you. 1 don't want any
thing, MIR. Reade, unless"
"Well, speak out, my dear, for 1
ought to have been on Wall street an
! hour ago"
didn't you promise me new dia-
mond pin, last week ?" She looked
up from the figure or the rug with
smile dimpling her mouth, which few
| husbands could have resisted.
$50 did, dear child, and see you
want it to night tor the party. Well
you shall have it for two kisses"
''No, shan't either, for I've pins
enough already, but" crossing her
hands coaxingly on his arm. 81
want the mony very much for some
thing else. It's great secret, so
don't, please, ask me anything about
! it, only say may have it"
GA thousand dollars to throw away
on a secret. Extravagant, Alice ~
Mr.. Reade drew in his breath, but
there was a smile lurking in his eyes
and his wife knew all was right.
"Send up the note before eleven
| please Mr.. Readew were the words
that followed the millionaire down
| stairs.
! Let us change the scene.
| It was high chamber, in dilapi-
| dated brick row, and miserably des-
! titute. A few ashes were shoulder
| ing on the hearth, and by this sat a
shivering, starving mother and her
child. 4c a
"Mother, mother, won't papa come
home pretty soon, and bring Newell
a nice cake 2" said the boy.
"I hope SO. Oh, if he only can sell
one of the pictures p 1t was pitifuI,
the sob in the woman's voice, the tone
half hopeful, half despairing, in which
she spoke this. She was young and
very pretty still, even with her pale,
pinched face and the sorrows that
looked out other large, blue eyes.
There was no great force of charac-
ter in the face, it is true. You felt it
was not one to meet calmly, defiantIy,
the great trial hours of life, but it was
sweet, womanly. and oh, SO very sor-
rowful!
The boy, of some five summers,
was not like his mother. The tone
of his face, from the broad forehead,
to the small, full mouth, was strong
er and deeper. Even his large hazel
eyes and brown hair were his faith
ers.
And then to think of the husband
and the father, with his sensitive es-
thetic nature. and his proud, high
spirit reduced to this! Oh, Lucious
Brante, it might have been weakness
and sin, but it was hardly strange
that you had gone out from the old
chamber that day, with these words
in your heart, "Stccess o2 suicidew
The boy drew up closer to his moth
er, and she put her arms tenderly
about him, but she did not speak tor
fear the tears would come. With all
his rare gifts, the artist father had
never painted so touching picture.
Another hour went by, and there
was the quick ring OBJECT on the old
staircase, and something in the sound
which gave new spring of hope to
the hearts that beat low by the dying
ashes.
The door burst open, and Lucius
Brante rushed wildly in, and threw a
heavy purse into his wifes lap. Was
the man mad? For he clasped her
and the frightened child one moment
in his arms and threw them up, tri-
umphantly laughing and shouting.
while the tears ran down his proud
! face, as they would down the face of
little child.
"What does it mean, Lucius. speak
to me ?" gasped the young wife, shak-
ing from head to foot. -.
81 have saved you, Helen, Newell,
| Thank God-thank Godi There is
a thousand dollars in that purse. Oh,
! it seems as if l must be dreaming, as
if this great, sudden gopd could NOT
be trueD
"And who was it bought them.
Lucius 2" asked thr wife through her
! glad tears.
''The mans name blessings on itD
was Watkins. He bought four of my
pictures, selecting them from all the
others in THAT collection, and paid me
two hundred and fifty dollars apiece!
He was plain ordinary-looking sort
of man too, apparently not much of
coDnoisseur in paintings either. But
I could have fallen down at his feet
and worshipped him.
papa; papa, did you bring ..your
little boy the cake?" and the soft
cheek of the child was pressed up to
his fathers.
sNo DEAR" gathering him to his
heart, "but papa will get you dozen
now: and Newell and mamma shall