The Dickinson press., 1884-02-02

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misery ifyou do not rescue me. Mr..
Ambrose has asked me for vour hand.
lie has seen you many times and loves
you"
And Mr.. Ambrose makes my hand
the price of your safety?"
No. he has not said 80; but he is
aware of my situation, and knowing
it, asks the hand Of my child. It
seems TO me as if God had kept you
tree to a your old father from ruin.
brose"
my heart was broken long ago."
Mary answered, looking into her faith
er's face. II will.marry this man for
your sake, but he must not expect af-
lection, for | have none to give. Tell
him this that he may not he deceived"
II Will bring him here tomorrow eve.
nlng, for he is anxious that the interview
shall be over"
MIR. Meredith was relieved, the fear of
disgrace was removed from him, and he
reJolced in the prospect of a prosperous
marriage for his daughter.
On the following evening Mary again
sat ny the drawing-room fire. She was
alone now and calm, and her face was as
pale as Partisan marble. The outer door
opened and she heard the sound of
heavy footsteps in the hall. Once more
d image OF Felix arose before her;a
cold shlvsr passed owe her and unbid-
den tears trembled in her ewes. but by
a great effort she subdued her agitation
before her father and the man about to
buy her with his gold entered the draw
lng-room. Mary arose and extended
her hand; it Was as as cold as ice, but it
did not tremble. She Glanced at MIR.
Ambrose and saw a man OF medium
height with brilliant dark eyes; the
neatly trimmed beard concealed the
lower part of his yisage. He greeted
her politely and then took a seat. A
short time was spent in conversation,
but gradually a silence fell upon them,
| which was becoming oppressive when
the visitor broke she spell.
"Miss Meredith" he said in a soft,
low tone, "you are of course aware of
the object of my visit here? Pardon me
if | speak plainly"
Mary looked up, but made no reply,
MIR. Ambrose's voice was so kind and
gentle that she thought he deserved a
wife who could love him.
"Your father has told me you have
no love to give me, but that you will
marry me. ]. too, once thought l should
never love again. but the sight of you
has dispel:ed the illusion. Let me tell
you nay. story. Long years ago l loved
a beautiful young girl, and she returned
my affection. | was young then, and
did not dream that Fate could crush out
my souls dearest hope. That fair girl
was my all. my very life, and 1 had not
q thought OF the future separated fro n
her. Her father was a wealthy mer-
chant and I his poor clerk. When I
told him l loved his daughter he spurped
me from his door and ordered me never
to entec it again. Oh, who re-
side myself can ever know the utter
midnight of my blasted hopes! Crushed
and broken l fled in my despair. In
the whirl and excitement of business
l strove to forget my sorrows. Fortune
singled me out as her especial favorite.
My widest speculatiops were successful
and money accumulated as if by magic.
Thus eleven years passed. | returned
to the scene of my unlappiness and
saw you. Need | say that all the old
love surged up in my heart again?
Once more l asked the old merchant
for his daughter" the speakers lips
trembled; ne extended his arms as he
continued-'and he consents at last.
Oh, Mary! will you now be mine?"
Mary cast herself into her suitor's
outstretched arms. Afterall these wears
Of misery Felix was restored to her!
"Felix Trafford!" gasped the old
man as he started to his feet. "Felix
Trafford, my old clerk!"
"Yes, sir; the same. Do you 1etract
your promisew
"No Felix. no. Take my Mary and
forgive her father"
The happy sutton led Mary away to q
seat and sat beside her, as if he feared
he might lose Der again.
Let us" he said, "forget all the past
but its joys and look to the future for
what true love can give us. lam now
content, and you my Mary, are you hap
py in the restoration of your lover?'
"Ah!" she replied in a voice full of
deep emotion, "happiness is too poor a
word to express my great joy!"-Phila-
delphia Call.