Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1878-11-01
wine for those who need it, :

U1AA0 AL VLOS0 WIZ AANS~
''You used to drink Jack"
:'Yes; but it never did me any good" ?
"And do you think it ever did you any
harm %
"As for that will not say; but l will
tell you what can say it aaecer shall do
me any harm! 1 know it has harmed 9TH
ers who were as strong as am. By the
way, Charley, isn't Mary Granville here"
"Yes," said I.
do you know her p
turned away my face and pretended
that heard something at the window.
Il have seen her," replied, when had
composed myself. ''She plays the organ
in our church,
'.She and 1 were schoolmates,' pursued
Stanton, s'and speaking of wine brings her
to my mind. De=you know anything OF
her early life ?''
Nothing answered.
'sPoor Mary never think of her with
out nv resolution of total abstinence
growing stronger and stronger. When
we were school children together, her faith
erwas the richest man in Berryville, and
she and her brother we're the happiest
the happy. Mr.. Granville was in the habi
of drinking wine. and the habit grew on
him until he could not live without lis
brandy. He was of social disposition,
and in time it came to pass that he was often
grossly intoxicated. Of course under such
circumstances, one of two things must
happen; the man must reform, or he must
sink. Mr.. Granville did not reform, and
ere many years he died drunkard's death,
leaving his family in poverty and suffering.
Thomas the son, who was four years older
than Mary became very dlssipated; at the
age of eighteen he was killed in street
fight in New ork.
Mrs. Granville survived her son but
few months, absolutely dying of broken
heart. Poor Mary thus left fatherless and
motherless without brother Or sister, at
the age Of fifteen, was forced to earn the
bread she ate, and nobly has she done it.
If you know her Charley, YOU know one of
the grandest women that ever lived. But
what is the matter? Why bless me you
look as pale as alghost.''
struggled with myself, and told Jack I
had swallowed lot Of cigar smoke. /
arose and opened one of the easements,
ami stepped out upon the balcony, where
the fresh air partially restored me to my
former self.
At a late hour Jack departed for the ho-
tel, and when had retired to my chamber
I paced to and fro until long past midnight.
l could no longer misunderstood the mo-
tives which had actuated Mary in rejecting
my hand. She knew that was IN the hab
it Of using wine, and on that evening when
last we met she must have discovered that
1 had drank enough to bring the false flush
to my cheek.
20, my God calculated as sank into
d chair, I wonder not that she feared to trust
trust her life in my keeping. She had suffered
enough from the accused cup. The night
of sorrow had been long enough upon her.
She would be more than mad to takea hus-
band whose opening pathway of life led to
the pit into which the loved ones of other
days. had fallen"
found no difficulty in answering the
question; why didshe not tell me the whole
truth She had shrunk from wounding
my feelings. | knew how sensitive she
was, and knew that size had been afraid
of offending me. Perhaps she thought me
proud and headstrong; and perhaps she i'm
agined that 1 might look upon her course
as the Offering Of her hand in considera
ton of my renouncing the wine-cup, and
that might spurn such an offer.
On Friday, Jack Stanton left me, and
on Saturday evening called at Mary's
boarding place. Mary herself answered
me, and saw her hand move quickly to
her heart.
MARY said 1, speaking very calmly.
for had a mighty strength of will to sup
port me, 81 have not come to distress you.
l have come as friend, and humbly ask
that you will give me an audience for a
few minutes
She went into the parlor, and followed
her. closing the Goor behind me; and when
we were alone she set the lamp on the ia
BILE and motioned me to seat. "No,"
said l. II will not sit down yet. Give
me your hands, Mary"
i Mechanically she put forth her hands,
and took them in my own. There was a
wondering look upon her face and slight
flush had come to her pale cheeks.
''Mary," 1 continued speaking slowly
and sOftly-and I knew that moisture
was gathering in my eyes-s'you must an
swer me one simple question. Answer it
as you please, and cake my solemn assur-
ance that L only ask it for my good. Tell
me-Do you love me?' No, no-Do not
take your hands away yet. Answer me if
you can. Fear not-O. fear not; for
would rather go forth into endless night
than do you wrong. Tell me, Mary-Do
you love me?"
Il cannot speak falsely" she trembling
whispered; "for my own peace perhaps, 1
love you too WELL"
'sLlsten to me one moment" added
drawing her nearer to me; land when I
have told you what have to tell you, you
shall be the judge"
She did not free her hand; but she gazed
up eagerly into my face. and her eyes
beamed with hopeful light.
'You know John Stanton 20 I said.