Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1873-07-31

refuse to grant what he would deny
to no other mantle prayer of Jo'
siah Keep.
So he lay there, with the tide OF
his FIFE going out, and the lights burn
ing low, while the storm shouted
fercely outside. and death and that
young girl watched by the sick man.
"Bessie," he called at last-and she
was at his side In a moment.
sHow sick you do look, father"
smoothing the iron-gray hair with
one hand, and looking at him, her
small, ssllow face full of a great pity
and grief, although Bessie Keep had
no idea of the unseen presence just
now crossing the threshold.
"Bessie, poor little Bessie, what
will become ofyou?" said the dying
man, looking with craven tender
ness which it seemed must have
turned stones to pity, on the little
girl.
Whatsoever his faults had been, he
had loved her, the last of his family,
the delicate, clinging, helpless child
who still of all the world olung fast to
him in unwavering faith and tender
ness.
"Ah, never mind me, father, dear.
| shall get along well enough if you
will only grow better"
Tears strained themselves into the
child'S eyes; she put her cheek down
to her fathers, and wondered that 1t
felt so cold, and drew the coverlet
closer around him, and the storm
Numbered on, outside, and the wind
Tapped white banners of snow thro'
the air, and Josiah Keep lay dying,
dying, dyingl
Suddenly the child lifted her head.
81 hear something, father, that is not
like the wind" she said; cit sounds
like horses feet" and she sprang to
the window.
There, close at hand, toiling thro'
the beating wind and driving snow,
she saw wagon with two occupants.
The men, worn out and half-frozen,
sprang from the wagon just after Bes-
sizes joyful shrek, that reached them
above the bowling of the storm
"They are here! Oh, father, they are
here!"
A man little past his prime, strong
and hale, with white hair about a
face which never left any one who
studied it adoubtof the heart beneath
it, was Benjamin May.
He came up now to the bedside,
and with his first glance at the face
lying there, the face dropped, and
drawn in the ashy pallor of death,
Benjamin May forgot all the chill and
WEAKNESS which had possessed him.
"My friend, / have come to hear
what you have to say" he answered,
bending tepderly over the dying man.
Josiah Keep looked up in the face
of the man he had wronged so vitality
more than score of years ago. De-
spite the cheerful, kindly counten-
ance, there were lines there which he
lad helped to carve.
"Do you know me?"
Benjamine May looked at the
ghastly face. Something familiar
struck him in the sharp features. His
memory half cleared up, yet he shook
his head. "No."
81 am-Josiah Keep"
The listener covered his face with
his hands q moment. "Ah, dear
God!' he said, but not lightly, even
in the shock and horror of that mo.
ment.
81 have sent for you, Benjamin
May, to hear whether you will look
upon me, lying here, and say you for
give me for all the evil | once did
you and yours. / want Gods mercy
now, and it seems to me l cannot lay
hold of any hope for that until first
had yours.
1t was an awful moment for Benja.
min May. All his life long he bad
carried the fire of one bitterness burn
ing down deep into his soul. And
now the wrecked hopes of his early
manhood, the fair, still face of the
young wife that he had laid down in
her grave, feeling that Josiah Keep
was her murderer, rose up before him
and his heart throbbed a moment
with the old fierceness of its youth.
1t was but moment. Then he look
ed again on the face of his ancient
enemy, and the fearful craving of
those dying eyes was something he
could not withstand. 81 forgive you
the wrong" said Benjamin May, TAX
ing the cold hand in his, "and by so
much as Gods mercy is greater than
mine, may he also forgive YOU"
Then there came swift shrek, as
of a heart suddenly broken, a swift
shrek along with the last words of
Benjamin May. "Ab, father, you
are not going 10 die, to die and leave
me in this dreadful world all alone
all alone!'' moaned Bessie Keep.
The dying man lifted his head
"There is nobody to whom l can
give the child, BENJAMIN. Promise
me that You will not leave her here
to perish, that you will take her away
with you, and place her in some or
phan asylum-promise me quick, be
fore | de-"
And Benjamin May looked at the
small, thin figure, at the sallow face
within its cloud of bright, brown
hair, aud the awful anguish stamped
upon it moved his soul to its depths.
His sons had grown to be men, his
one little daughter had followed her
mother home, leaving him a memory
of soft blue eyes, and sweet smiles
dawning and fitting among dimples,
to haunt all his after life.
A great pity and tenderness for this
child, orphaned, friendless, beggared,
came over him. He put out his arm
and drew her to his breast-he laid
his hand on the bright floating hair.
"Josiah," he said, 81 will take the
child to my home-to my heart