Western sentinel. [volume] (Winston [i.e. Winston-Salem], N.C.) 1856-1886, 1879-02-20
Il will do yctlr errand

l y
s'Oh, ii is no GRAND. ] am SO
sorry to trouble anybody"
Mr.. Grey saw what was wanted,
and saying he would be hack d.
rectly, vanished for his rubber snit.
The rain drove into their faces,
and the wind howled through the
dark night like the minister of a
thousand storms-not for poor
ftshcrwoman, perhaps, but for one as
good and fair ae Edith Wiiloughbv,
he should not have hesitated mo
ment. When they game upon the
beech the waves fairy leaped into
their faces, and Edith shivercd and
chung, half-terrificd, to her COM
panion, in spite OF herself.
81 believe you had better return
now, and leave it to me-" Mr.. Grey
said.
"No, we are almost there.
should never forgive myself if did,
she answered, catching her breath
as she spoke. at is only you l am
worried about"
81 am glad to he able to help
yon," he said. And l think he
spoke the truth.
Inside the cottage poor Grace
Pooley lay on her hard bed trying
to breathe on a little longer, if go
the good God might serd some good
friend before she died, to care for
her orphan boy.
When the door opened her eyes
frightened, and she raised up lit
tic.
"The Lord bless ye for coming
| know lie will !" she said as Edith
threw off her wet covering and went
towards her.
"rhis is only one of the board
ers who came with me-" she said,
in reply to the woman. question
ing look. 81 should have come TO
day. had | known you were worse. .
She sat down basidc the bed, and
Anson Grey, watched her as she
spoke in low, tender voice to the
greatful woman. Among the words
which he could distinguish WAS a
promise to see to Jamie and when
the old woman who seemed to be
nnrse came up to administer some
thing, and in y half whisper asked
Edith to pray with them, he began
tn think Inc was in another world
And it was another to him, truly.
Surely she would never do that
But she did. Knccling upon the
bare floor, clasping her white hands,
she sent mp such n prayer for help
and strength as Anson Grey had
never dreamed of hearing before.
After night Anson Grey knew
where his heart was, but for his life
he dared not approach Edith. She
seemed an Unreasonable distance
from such as he, but he cherished
the memory of her prayer as the
one glimpse into heaven for which
he should thank God all his life.
Edith's mother was gay woman,
aud such she meant her daughter to
he, though for her lite she could
not keep her from ftrreting out, ana
helping also, an innnmcra5le num-
Der OF forlorn, poverty-strickcn
people who had no earthly claim
upon her, as they went their FASH
ionable rounds. 1t was mortifviny,
even exasperating, bur she was
powerless to prevent it. They were
to be off again soon, Anson Grey
heard bnt he would have missed
seeing, had ne not accidentally met
her, as she was hurrying mp the
beach towards their boarding house,
Oh the very day they left. He conld
not let her go without telling her
wlnt was III his heart.
"May | speak to You moment !''
he eaid, stroptiy, stopping her.
s'Certainly."
As the word left her lips, she saw
what his speaking was going to be.
"Oh, not that, Mr.. Grey 20
Somehow he took courage from
the qnick paling OF her lips.
"Yes, that. Hove you, and want
you for my wife"
81 am to be married Christmas. %
He turned and was leaving her,
when something made her speak.
"Mr. Grey 20 3is
dc faced her again, and she saw
how white and stern he looked.
"Had | been free you would not
have asked in vain"
Fer days and weeks afterwards,
Anson Grey hugged the memory of
her look, rs she said those blessed
words, TO his heart, caring more for
that than for the love aud carcsses
of any other.
Christmas came, but death came
With it, and Editb's lover went his
long journey, leaving his affianced