The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1880-02-27
Susie's Gift.

suited IN an aHectlon OF the eyes that
threatened 20 grow serious.
This was his last term of school, and if
he passed his examination creditably, he
was to have place in Solomon Grants
store, with wages that would not only
take care of himself, but greatly help his
mother.
His mother was widow, and Georges
love for her was sort of passion of devo-
tion.
He was very fond of Susie Hale-but
Susie was only nice girl to him-a dear,
sweet, good girl, such as any fellow
| would like; but his mother was the lady
to whom was due his love, his care, his
uttermost duty.
The plans he made in life were all for
his mothers sake.
What if this growing dizziness about
him was to increase until all was dark?
What if he must be no help to his moth
er, but only a burden on her forever?
His scholarship had been so fine that
his tutor hesitated to reprove his now
| continual failures; and George said moth
| ing of the increasing darkness around
him to his mother, for he felt that it
would break her heart; nothing to teach
| er OF schoolmates, for it seemed to him
| that his grief would be nothing to them.
But one afternoon the crisis came.
No one who was present that day-not
even the smallest child-will ever forget
the look of wild despair that swept over
George Graham's face, or the gesture of
helpless anguish with which he stretched
out his hands, as if to seek among them
all some friend, as he cried:
"God help me, I have been going
blind, and nowI cannot see one figure in
my bookr'
There was silence after this; and
there came no sound but the audible
beating of George Graham's tortured,
despairing heart.
Then the master sent away others, for
school hours were nearly over, and tried
his best to comfort his stricken pupil.
The words of the teacher entered his
ears, but they did not reach his heart or
kindle his hope.
As soon as he could he went away. He
did not go straight home. How could
he face his mother and tell her what he
must tell her now?
He sat down on a bank little removed
from the roadside, a bank which over
hung q swift, deep, yet narrow stream.
An awful temptation came over him.
To be sure, to die would be to leave
his mother to fight her battle of life
| alone; but also it would relieve her from
the heavy burden he must needs be to
her if he lived
The river rushing down there below
invited him with his murmur.
| He bent forward over the stream.
Then he drew back, for longing came
over him to go home first and see his
4 mother just once more.
s'See here! What am I talking about
Do 1 not know I shall never see her
| again?"
And girls voice, soft and tender, an
unexpected voice, answered him:
''Yes, you will see her again. Surely
you will see her again.
The boy turned his face toward the
| sound.
Glow did you come here, Susie Hale?''
| he asked.
Don't be angry, George" the gentle
voice entreated t'I waited for you. I
could not go home until had told you
how sorry I was, and tried to comfort
you. You must take heart and try to be
cured. I have known people who could
not see at all to be helped. and why not
you? At least you must try"
An evil mood was upon George Gra-
ham, and he answered harshly:
''Where is the money to come from,
if you please? 1t has been all mother
could do just to live, and she struggled
on with the expectation of my being
able soon to help her. She has no
money for experiments. There is moth
/ ing for it but for me to rest dead
weight upon her han Is or-die.''
"You believe in God, George Graham,
and you will not defy him. If he means
you to bear this, you will bear it like a
man, and not try to get rid of the bur-
den. just now, it seems to me, you
ought to go home. Would you like your
| mother to hear this from some one else?'
He rose slowly.
''You are right" he said, s:and you are
good girl. Goodbye, SUSIE"
She did not try to go with him; she
followed him only with her eyes.
His mother met him at the gate.
When she took his hand in hers the
poor fellow felt that she knew ALL She
was very quiet and self-controlled.
'Your tutor has been here" she said,
''and has told me. My darling, why
have you sat in the darkness, and shut
your mother out from any share in your
trouble?"
''Oh, I couldn't tell you, mother" he
sobbed, ST couldn't. 1 thought it would
break your heart"
Meanwhile, Susie Hale had gone home
full of an absorbing purpose.
Somehow money must and should be
raised to try what skillful occulist
could do for Gearge Graham.
Susie was the orphan niece of Solomon
Grant.
She knew that she had modest little
fortune of her own, hut it was all in her
uncles hands, and without his consent
she could not dispose even of her small
income.
But would he not be persuaded to let
her have enough of her own money to
accomplish her desire?
She asked him, using her utmost DOW
er of persuasion to touch his heart, but
he refused with peremptory decision.
Susie had in the world one treasure, a
diamond ring, which had been her moth
er's, with stone, white and clear as
dewdrop.
This must, she knew, be worth hun
dreds.
1t was her own.
She had meant to keep it all her life.
for her mothers sake, but surely this
great need of George Graham's justified
her in parting with it.
She had one friend in whose good faith
and judiclous management she felt i'm
pllclt confidence, and to him she sent her
mothers ring, with the request that he
would sell it as speedily and on as good
terms as possible, and remit her the