The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1883-03-24

agreed with the doctor, that if the pool
young widow could be brought to feel al
interest in this child, it might be the means
of giving her new life and strength. But
they had to do great deal of talking to
convince Master Paul it was his duty tc
give up the child-the {" White Violet" as
he declared her to be-
But, by the time Mrs Esterton had been
talked into desire to see the child, Paul
had become convinced of his duty. He
acknowledged himself ready to sacrifice his
selfish desire for baby sister that the
child might have bright future. No small
sacrifice, either, for loving lad who felt
his right to own the one he had found and
saved.
So, when the Easter bells were ringing
gaily and the sun was brightly shining,
Paul was allowed to carry the baby to the
rich widows house. He would yield the
infant to no nurse, however, and they had
to usher the youth and the baby both into
the young mourners presence. Mrs. Es-
terton was delighted; the touch of baby
fingers, the sound of baby voice broke
up the fountains of her sadness, and she
wept wildly for time, and then made little
Paul tell all the story of his finding.
"And please, ma'a am pleaded Paul, in
conclusion, " won't you be willing to let
her be called Violet? I think God meant
it, seeing that [ was hunting Violets and
found her instead "
And Mrs. Esterton, in her Joy, assured
the boy that should be the baby's name,
and that he should see and love and play
with the little Violet whenever he pleased.
As the years went by the little child
grew in beauty and grace, and the strong
est friendship existed between Violet and
Paul.
The little girl lived in luxury, received
the best education, was trained in all that
goes to make fine woman of the world.
Beauty and wealth and grace were hers.
Little Paul Morgan grew from boyhood
to young manhood, battled with poverty,
had his hopes and sorrows and disappoint-
ments, through which Viola cheered and
comforted him. And at last, when his
gentle mother expressed the one great de-
sire Of her life, that Paul should enter the
ministry, he consented, though, without
doubt, nature had designed the boy for an
artist.
Fifteen years later and another Faster
day is dawning.
But the world is in better mood than
on that chill, rough day so long ago.
On all hands the grass is green, the trees
wear decided hazy veil of opening buds,
and the golden sunshine wraps all the world
in warmth and hope.
All the air is filled with the melody of
church bells ringing forth merrily the
good news that The Lord is risen indeed. y
Mrs Esterton's handsome rooms were
filled with bloom and fragrance; through
the open windows ffoated in on the sun
shine delicious odor of Violets, and in
the distance could be seen the flowing
shining river, where the sunbeams and little
firty breezes worked the sparkling surface
into fretted gold for the time being.
Sweet balsamic odors arose from the
budding trees, and there was really de-
cided tint of lavender on the already ver-
dant lilac bushes by the window.
Violet Esterton was the fairest blossom
that bloomed in all that wealth and ele-
gance. Her chiefest charm, at present,
was the youth and freshness about her.
No thoug Int of care had ever crossed the
low, broad brow; no knowledge Of sin had
ever shadowed the brown eyes,
She was as pure and perfect, as guileless
as the delicate, dainty blossoms whose name
she bore, whose hue she loved, and whom
she called her guardian saints.
She was tall and slender, and even as a
mere child in her earliest teens was
looked upon with wonder and admiration
for her beauty.
Her skin was like the snow-banks from
which early Violets spring; her lips had
caught the crimson from the sunset clouds
that illumined the lonely woods and dells
whence she had come. Her eyes were soft
and diamond-bright like the dew-drops
that nightly nestled in the Violets pure
hearts. She was pure and beautiful, deli
cious and tender as the fragrant, dainty
Violets-her god-parents.
And Paul Morgan had come to say
adieu to his little woodland treasure. Every
means had been taken to discover the Sc
cret concerning this woodland waif, but as
years had gone by and no light been thrown
upon the past, Mrs. Esterton had become
quiet and secure in her possession.
No concealment had ever been practised
about it. Violet knew all there was to
know.
Many summer day had Paul and the
child spent in Van Dacres wood and in
Vulnerable were the times Paul had had to
show her Just the spot where he had fan
cied white Violets were blooming and
found instead the sweet human blossom.
To Violet, Paul was everything-guar-
dian, friend, protector.
She had pretty imperious way of
claiming him, rathering than seeing that
he had found her!
And he was wholly her humble slave
from that hour when she had locked her
tiny hand about his finger as he carried
her to shelter, life, warmth, comfort and
home. From the time Paul gave her to
Mrs Esterton he had been chief compan-
ion and playmate. Sometimes Mrs. Ester
tons fashionable friends would demonstrate,
and ask did she think it just the thing to
allow poor boy, boy of no especial class
or caste, to associate so freely with the little
girl, and might she not be contaminated in
thought, speech, or manner, by so low a lad.
"I cannot fail to ever remember" she
always answered, that he has really the
best right to Violet. He found my treas
ure, and 1 assure you Paul is not low, nor
vulgar, nor uneducated. Violet is wholly
safe with him. He worships her, and SO
does Bruno! She is as safe with one
faithful friend as the other!"
And so the boy, with dog-like fidelity,
had worshipped and guarded her for fif-
teen or sixteen years, and had come now to
bid his charge farewell as he started off to
finish his studies.
"See, Violet; 1 have brought you this,
and have favor to ask"
"What is it, Paul ?" and the dark brown