The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1875-01-30

Ter and more heavy. Two years had gone
since Paul had written Oh how dark
and drear Mary remembered the sRPd-
ows and forebodings Of that first sleepless
night. Two years without q word, and
then came word that stunned her. She
found it In q newspaper. The American
ship Fides, which had sailed from Canton
for Borneo, had not been heard from, and
fears were entertained that she had been
lost in typhoon which swept over the
! Chinese sea with terrific force shortly after
! she had sailed.
Wesks. .mon&ha, years-and no more
from Paul. That the ship had beeR lost
was now known And could any Of her
crew have been satedl Old sailors TO
whom the question was put, shook their
heads sadly. Not many men could be
saved from q ship that went down in a
typhoon FL E s
known. men who had thus far held aloof
came b snille upon Mary Archer, and to
/ seek her smile in return. She was known
to ho as good and true as she was beauti-
/ iul, and men of sense knew that she would
do her part towards making an earthly
| heaven Of the home over which fortune
might lead her to preside.
Among them was John Lettrell, a man
several years older than Mary, and man
uf wealth He offered her home, and
asked her TO become his wife but she had
20 heart to give him. The months and
the years rolled on, and it was known that
the ship Fides had been long at the bot
tom IF the sea, and not word had been
heard from any of her crew. That they
had all been lost was beyond doubt.
In time Mary's mother fell sick and died
and Mary was left alone with her crippeled
brother. She kept the little cottage, but
it was not all her own. There was mortg-
age upon it, and upon Mary the mortgage
lay heavily. Percy, the cripple, could eat,
but he could do no work He was a con-
stant care, and he repaid his sister IN love
when he could repay her in no other way.
She found work at dressmaking and SO
she labored on, praying for strength to
perform her duty to the living and to the
dead
Years, years, years, with little of sun
shine, with much Of gloom, and with much,
very much of care. and labor.
Years four-a and-twenty since that well
remembered night when Paul went away
SO resolute and so hopeful. And Mary
Archer was now forty four. The care and
the labor had made their mark, but they
mad not detracted from her beauty. The
freshness Of bloom were faded, but the
ripeness Of her true wOmanly nature, in
faith and resignation, had come with a
beauty that cannot fade-the beauty of
goodness and Christian devotion.
But it was growing dark without. Percy
had been veIy sick, with need Of more
care and more medicine. The interest Of
the mortgage was two years due, and the
calculating usurer, who had it, had fore
closed and sued for possession. The cottage
could not be much longer her home. of
herself she thought not at all; but what
would become of her helpless brotherl
In this strait John Lettrel came 70 her
once more, and offered both herself and
her bro'her a comfortable home for the
rest of their days. What could she tell him.
Only that she had no heart to give him.
And yet he pressed his suit. He would
teach her to love him in time And he left
her weeping, with the indecision that had
grown from the one weak spot-her low
er. He told her that he would come again,
for he thought he saw her way to hope.
Mary, dear, whispered Percy, as she
bent over his couch, and smoothed his pill
low, why don't you accept the home he
offersi Mr. Lettrell is a good man. o, my
sister not for my sake not for mine-but
your own
Hush, Percy! Not now-not now. o,
my poor heartl'
And she went out of the little sitting
room, and sat by the window where she
had sat long, long years ago, while the man
she must ever love, either living or dead,
walked on his way the great city, to go forth
upon the sea. The grand words Paul
Winship had then spoken, sounded again
i'll her ears; she saw him again, as she then,
put the blue ribbon about his neck, and
kiss the little locket and then hid it away
in his bosom, close TO his true heart. 1t
was her gift her hair in that locket-and
If the lifeless form had sunk in the sea the
precious memorial of her love had gone
down Herewith. Her hands were clasped
and her face lifted heavenward.
"No, no, no-John Lettrell-never. l
will be true to him as he has been to me-
She turned from the window, and saw by
the clock in the corner that midnight was
near She was upon the point of arising
when she heard a step upon the sidewalk
the step of heavy man, and nearer, un-
til it had stopped at the gate. A pause,
and then the gate was opened, and pres
emily rap upon the door. She had no
thought Of fear. A stranger, probably,
who wished direction on his way She
took up the lamp, and went to the door,
aud she saw by the Pickering hight, mid
die aged man, large and strong, dressed in
the garb of the sea.
"Does Mrs. Archer livel" the man asked
in a voice scarcely audible.
miss Archer lives here, sir.
1T is late know, said the man, after
a long pause, ''but have walked out from
the city, and as came this way, and saw a
light in the window. ventured to stop, as
| had an errand to do"
The man had the odor Of the sea about
about him, and Mary was not afraid. There
was something to her sacred in these habli-
ments-and she bade him come it.
He followed her into the sitting room,
but he did not sit down in the proffered
seat, nor did he remove his hat. 1t was a
chill autumnal night, and he wore his pea
| jacket buttoned close up.
"You said youhad an errand, sirl" Mary
at length ventured.
Eyes, yes" said the man with a start.
He had been looking from the shadow Of
his hat rim. "Yes-I have an errand. II
vas given to me years ago. At one time
for long s;me-I thought should new
er bring it; but late has oeen kinder to me
than dared to hope. You know-none
should konw better-that there are morta
dangers on the deep. was wrecked Al
others have been before, and have beer
since. Twas cast alone upon a raft, upoI
an island, where savages were for long year
my only companions. Taught them man!
useful things, and they were kind to me
OF gold and precious stones | gathered
great store, useless there, but to me o
great value, should ever again find m,
native land. The time came at length