The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1876-05-24
THE DAUGHTERS SACRIFICE.

Mary Goldthwait was sitting by the we'll
filled CRATE in her fathers drawing-room.
1t was on cold evening in winter, and
the wind howled mournfully around the
street corners and through the marrow
lanes and alleys. Mary was a pale, slim
girl, but possessing beauty which even
the most fastidious could not have ques-
toned. Her hair, which was of a deep,
golden hue, shed light from the soul
which only could have emsnsted from a
source of purity and worth. she had seen
eight and twenty years of life, and yet she
remained a maiden beneath her fathers
roof. A close calculator of pbysioguomy
would have said that Mary had some secret
heart grief that made her look so pale. So
she had, though perhaps no one on earth
gave herself knew all her heart secrets.
She had lost a beloved mother when she
was twenty, and since that she had seen
one brother and an elder sister laid away
in the tomb. She sat now with her small
hands clasped over her bosom, and the
ewes turned downward till the long lashes
lay like golden pencilings upon her
cheeks.
Near her, in his great arm chair, sat her
head was white, and whose face was deeply
furro~ed by the hand of time. There were
some kind marks upon his features, and
some hard, cold ones, but now ne looks
troubled and very unhappy.
"Msry," he said, in continuation of a
conversation already commenced, "for
eight and twenty yearE / have found q
been met and answered. Your good has
been my highest aim and your peace and
happiness my only Joy. You are advanc-
ing In years, and soon your father must
leave you alone. But II can not leave
yeu at the mercy of the cold world. Now
good home is open to you and you must
accept 1t. Men might call me selfish could
they know all my motives, but am sure
you will not. A crisis has come-a vol
csno has grown up beneath my feet. In a
few short days it must overwhelm me in
utter ruin, If j be not saved. Mr.. Smith
has asked me for your hand. He has seen
you at church and watched you narrowly.
He loves you. He is wealtby-more
wealthy than your father was. And he
holds notes of mine-notes to the amount
of hundred thousand dollars"
"But your name is not alone on these
notes2" gasped Mary.
"No-only the first four; but am hold
en- tor the whole. Yet the quarter part Of
that is more than sufficient to ruin me-"
equivalent"
''Yes. Or-I must say, he has not said
so. But he knows my situation and know
ing il, has asked for the hand OF my child.
Ah, Mary, IL 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 ruip. You have even rejected
suitors whom have favored; but do not
think you have rejected better man than
Mr.. Smith,"
Alb, that old man had forgotten one I
He had forgotten bright-haired youth
who laid his heart at Msry's feet. But
that was long years sgone, and bis mind
went not back so far.
ssNow what shall / tell Mar. Smith,"
"My heart is all broken and torn" she
said gazing sadly at her fathers face, shut
my hand Is free. Tell Mr.. Smith this.
Tell him 1 will give him my hand to save
my father, and forget not to tell him that
my hesrt is not in the trade, for would
not deceive him."
"Oh, you will love him, Mary. He has
promised that you shall have all you can
ask for, and know he will be kind"
81 have said that will marry him." tue
fair maiden returned, "and so you may to- j
him. But you will only cruelty deceive
him did you tell him no more. Tell him
nv 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
evening. tor so he wishes. know you
will be happy; he viii make you one OF
the best OF husbands. He Is rich-Yery
rich"
'In what, my father?"
The old man started at these words, for
they were spoken very strangely.
s'1n the goods of this world, and in honor
and manhood" he replied.
Aaas, 49, uot u ...4 ..u.Ler, % SO ID