Democratic messenger. [volume] (Snow Hill, Md.) 1869-1973, 1881-12-31

All eyes tuIHeu WIFI curiosity anu
surprise upon me; but cared not. The
mans hand with the weapon fell to his
side.
"His boy, Herbert, is sick and ying,
l repeated, "and he calls for his father;
and the doctor says if he does not see
him he cannot possibly live."
/ shall never forget the look of agony
that came III the place of the anger
to the dark face of Herbert's father.
"My boy-dying and here p
He had been beside himself with
drink, but the shock of my words had
sobered him, and taking my hand, he
led me from the place. Once out in the
street / tried to leave him, but he held
me tight.
''If my boy lives it will be you who
have saved him." he said. "You shall
come with me"
"Such a pathetic scene as it was when
the mother, hearing steps, came to the
door and saw her husband l cannot
think of it now without tears.
What my beautiful lady said to me
when, in few words he told her all,
will not now repeal, but l never shall
forget.
A couple of hours later the doctor de-
clared that the danger was past; the
boy had had his desire, and, his de-
delirium quieted, he had sunk into
slumber.
So it was that I, Polly Evans, saved
two lives.
Mr.. st. John, true to his word, never
from that time touched another glass of
the soul-destroying liquid, and Herbert
grew and thrived from his childhood
(Which his mother told me had always
been delicate) into as stalwart lad as
ever gladdened parents heart.
Twelve years have passed since then,
and am Polly Evans no longer. But I
will not anticipate and tell just yet who
lam.
That night, when through Gods prov
idence | was instrumental III doing the
good He put in my way, was the turning
point of my own life, too.
''You must stay with us, my child"
Mrs. st. John said. "Henceforth your
home is in this house, which but for you
would be desolate indeed. / can never
repay to you the benefits you have given
to me, but ell that is III my power l
shall do. Your real name is Mary, you
tell me. / had sister Mary once, and
l love the name. Mary, will you be
willing to let me do what can to make
You happy, useful woman ?"
was put at once into school. OF
course l was ignorant, and had much to
unlearn as well as to learn; but hard
work accomplishes wonders, and two
years ago received my diploma with
kindly words fron my teachers that
brought thrill of pride to my breast,
for felt that with that in my hand 1
could at last reach the ultimatum of my
longing, and go forth into the world
and work for myself and be independent.
One day, when thought we were en-
tirely alone-Mrs. st. John and myself
in her cosy boudoir, broached the
subject for the first time.
was little prepared for the effect of
my words. | knew that she loved ME, but
how well not till then. But though she
pleaded, yet | was firm, for had dis
covered during the last few months
something within myself that forced me
to be so. But, oh it was hard, indeed,
to resist those tender, earnest tones.
"Mary, do you not know that to see
you leave my roof would break my
heart? You do not speaks there,
then, no way in which can induce you
to give up this idea that has gained such
hold over your mind ?"
"Of course there is" cried a rich
voice at the door that brought the
blood in torrent from my heart to my
checks, as, pushing aside the curtains,
the son of the house entered. His eyes
met mine, and mine fell. A joyous
light sprang INTO his handsome face
(that face that had long known L cared
for with more than a sisters affection).
"Ask her to stay as your daughter,
mother"
AS stood there blushing crimson
though had died for it could not lift
my eyes, for 1 knew that their express
sion would betray me-a soft hand took
mine.
'Can it be possible, Mary, that you
care for my son? / had not dared to
hope for this I knew Herbert loved
you, but never dreamed that you had
a thought for him that was not merely
sisterly." (Ah, my short sighted bene-
factress y "Will you indeed stay, Mary,
as my daughter"
"And my wife" another voice added,
while a strong young arm embodied me.
And l staid, and here l still am, no
longer Mary Evens, but dignified Mrs.
Herbert st. John. Herbert often calls
me "Polly," for love to hear my old
name spoken in his tender tones, though,
indeed, perhaps it might be as well to
say that everything to me is music that
comes from his lips.