The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1876-11-11

"He is going out West" Ethel said
abstractedly, reaching for tea-urn of i'm
maculate brightness, that stood on the tol
shelf of the dresser, thereby disclosing
white dimpled arm, round and muscula
with health and healthy exercise.
Without you ?" Mrs. Strong looked "
with start, adding hastily: =" Precious
child what are you going to do with tn,
best tea-urn? I'm sure we have no com
pany~ n
Ethel hurriedly replaced the article, ant
vigorously wheeled out small deal tablC
to hide her agitation.
Without you, Ethel?" repeated he
mother.
No, mother, not unless father and yo,
refuse to let me 60"
Ethel, Ethel, how can we spare you T
There's Biddy Coyle, mother" ven
tured Ethel. "She is good steady girl
You might hire her for nothing, for she
needs a home"
"Ah she could never fill your place
child" Mrs. Strong choked down sob
"And Ethel, We have not dollar to spare
for your outfit.
Ethels countenance fell.
Your fathers health is failing too
Ethel, John is overburdened with work
poor fellow ! and could find no time to hcI
me. o, Ethel, Ethel, don't add to oul
burdens by leaving us now !"
Mrs. Strong sat with her hands claspeC
despairingly in her lap, and Ethel dropped
down on low cricket at her mothers
feet, and cried bitterly.
"Don't cry, Ethel" said Mrs. Strong
laying her thin hand on Ethel's nutbrowr
hair, "The night is always darkest before
dawn. You have been faithful daughter
and God will reward you for it; if not il
this world, in the next"
But Ethel refused to be comforted. She
was one of the earth earthly" and longed
for taste of this worlds joys, unstable
though they are. She loved her hard
working parents-she loved the sturdy
brother, who, in return, idolize ed her, but
she loved Henry May also, and her tender
womanly heart clung to him, as the drown
ing cling to some frail plank that beari
them to life aud safety.
$50, mother, 1 cannot go !" she sighed
after fit of passionate weeping.
"Not for little while-a year or so
perhaps, if Henry will wait. We have nc
money, and we cannot borrow, for we owe
too much already. Biddys wages would
have to be paid, and you could not &c
without clothes"
Ethel made no protest, and Mrs. Strong
sadly took up her work. She loved her
daughter, and desired, above all things, to
see her happily settled in life. But cir
cumstances were against her, as they are
against many who sit in the shadow of ILL
fortune and patiently wait for some
brighter day to dawn.
The Strongs had already been thrifty
people, but in an evil hour, Ethels father
had indorsed for friend. The friend al.
seconded, and Mr.. Strong was obliged to
mortgage his farm-a proceeding that
promised poverty and rigid economy for
many years.
"Poor Ethel" sighed her old worn
father, when the evenings conversation
was repeated to him; "my child's happi-
ness is dearer to me than all the money in
the world but the Mays are proud peo.
pie, and Ethel cannot 60 among them like
a beggar."
So Ethel's fate was settled. But she
did not murmur, for she understood her
duty too well to rebel against her parents
in word or deed.
She was up with the lark the next morn.
ing, aud at an early hour Henry May was
at the lawn gate. Years after, he renem
bered Ethel, as she came steadily down
the green path, the sunlight kissing her
nut-brown hair, and flush on her round
cheeks.
"Well, Ethel "--he laid his brown palm
on EthePs dimpled fingers-"yes, or MOI"
so, Henry, Henry" Ethel sobbed,
dropping her face on his hand, "you will
not go" Hcnry's lips tightened under
his glossy beard.
Do not tlame me too harshly, for it is
my duty to stay at home" cried Ethel,
lifting her pale face to his.
so love must give way to duty, Ethel.
If you love me, think you could find
some argument to convince your parents
it was right for you to CO."
DO not doubt my love" she pleaded,
for that would be harder to bear than
any sorrow. For | shall love and este EN-
you above all men while life lasts
"Then goodbye, sweetheart" said
Henry, kissing the rosy face that would
be marked with many line of sorrow be.
fore he looked upon it again, and God
keep you until we meet again"
Months went on. Henry May, at his
labor on some lonely coast survey, or in
the heart of some western wilderness, kept
place in his heart for the little girl,
working aud waiting among the Vermont
hills.
Meanwhile, troubles were closing in
around Ethel Strong. Sickness came and
the sturdy young brother was laid beside
the Strongs in the old church,yard. His
mother followed her youngest born before
many months, and left Ethel to comfort
the poor old father, whose lifework had
been so hard and cherries.
If Ethels heart ached, no one knew it.
If her woman's heart craved husband
love, or the tender caresses that might
have kept her heart young aud buoyant
no one knew it. God had dealt hard with
her in many ways, yet her faith in Him
never wavered, and her feet never faltered
as she administered to the wants Of the
frail old father, who lived in the light o.
her smile.
BY Ethels management the mortgage
was paid off, and prosperity once more
crowned their labors. Yet Ethels life.
work was not done. She resolutely pu
aside all her girlish dreams, and refused t
send her lover tho answer he longed foI
with such ccaselcss longing.
-Four years had gone by. One balm,
evening Ethel sat on one Of the shad,
porches sewing diligently. Her fathe
dozed in au armchair at the window
while n robin, swinging on a bough abov,
Ethcl's brown head, burst out into gusl