The Portland daily press., 1884-11-27
Betty's Good Deed.
BY A. 4. M.

you had best start early for it looks likely to
be squally toward night"
Betty Brandon laid away her knitting,
ing from the cottage door down over the
rocks to the sea, tossing dull and gray as the
clouded November sky above. Betty had
always lived by the sea she knew it in all its
moods: and once she had thought she loved
It, but those who know it best are too often
aught, alas! to fear its cruelty.
Tomorrow will be Thanksgiving Day,
Betty. All, if your father and Jamie were
but here, what glad day it would bep'
SIT seems as if we had little left to be
thankful for now, mother'
There was a sob in the girps voice.
81 know, dear; but we must not say that.
The Lord knows best what TO give aud what
to take, and He'll care for us still, though
we mayn't be able to see His hand in our
trouble. You must call at Mrs. Cameron's,
Betty, and ask her if she'll not spend the
day with us tomorrow. 1t will be lonely
day to her without her VIII. Ours is not the
only lonely house in Fairhaven since the
Beatrice sailed.
'''ll 90 now, mother, and be back in time
fer tea,' aud with a brave effort at cheerful
ness, Betty sooght hat and shawl, kissed her
mother goodbye, and set out on her walk
along the beach to the village.
''If your father and Jamie were but here,'
That echoed through her heart. Yes, the
sea was cruel. 1t had taken them away, aud
it would never bring them back-so people
said. But Betty almost thought it would 1t
looked SO kind sometimes. She would never
give up hoping.
1t was dreary day like this, she remem-
bered, when they had sailed four years ago.
The "Beatrice Brandon was named for her.
Captain Brandon was both master and own
er, and he had taken his vessel on her first
voyage. His only son was with him, and the
crew were all Farhaven men. They meant
a two years. voyage 1t had been four years
now; and it was ''hoping against hope" the
fishermen said to dream that the Beatrice
would ever be heard from. They shook
their heads sadly when she was mentioned;
for they had their own sorrows Mrs. Bran
don had truly said that hers was not the on
ly desoate household In FarhaVen.
The neighboIs had their own troubles in
deed, but they we're very kind to Mrs. Bran
don and Betty. Only the little cottage and
a strip of land remained to mother and
daughter. Mrs. Brandon took washing and
sewing for few families in the village, and
for summer visitors, by such means gaining
scanty support
When Betty rang the bell at Squire Thorn
dykes handsome house, the servant told her
that Mrs. Thorndyke and her daughter were
out, but that they had left word for her to
walt.
1t was already quite late when they re-
turned. Miss Beatrice Thorndyke's little
namesake was favorite with her, and ma
ny were the iayors which reached the Ban
den cottage from the 'house on the hill"
"rm sorry to have kept you waiting.
child" said Miss Beatrice, coming iD. 'But
wished to pay your mother and to put
few things in your basket to help out your
dinner tomorrow. FL keep you no logger,
for fear it will be growing dark now before
you get home"
The dark day was fast changing into dark
er twilight when Betty set out for home. Her
basket was heavy, for Miss Beatrice's lavish
hand had loaded 1t with all kinds OF good
things. The walk before her was long and
lonely, but she would have known each step
of the way as well by starlight as by sun
light, and she felt no fear.
About half way from the village to The
Point she had to pass the light house on the
shore. When she reached the place it was
already quite dark, and as she drew near she
saw with surprise that the lamp was not
lighted. Donaldson, the keeper, lived a'one
in his little tower. a was always faithful
10 the discharge of his duty, and though he
often rowed over to Brant Harbor ofsan after
noon, he was sure to be back in time to at
tend to his light. Betty thought he must be
Ill, and she tried the door. II was locked,
and the lower room was dark. She knew he
must be away from home. And now, for
the first time, she noticed that storm was
rising. The great waves beat against the
rocks with wild roar, and almost suddenly
it grew so dark that she could hardly see the
path. Lightning began to fash in the west:
while the thunder mingled its heavy reverb
berations with the roar of the sea.
The lamp was not lighted! And there
were the cruel rocks over opposite. One ves-
sci had been wrecked on them since Betty
could remembers schooner which was
dasha1 In Of coy1la u0inO
down to death within sight of shore. She
could have lighted the lamp herself had
there been any entrance to the tower. Many
an hour had she spent with the old keeper,
and often she helped him trim and light the
lamp.
Hark! what was that sound? Betty liz
tened with beating heat. 1t came again,
again; and she knew it was the signal gun
of vessel in distress. A crash of thunder
made her start, and by the lurid fame which
followed she saw plainly for an instant the
form of a vessel not far from shore, and ap-
parenty driven toward the rocks. Betly's
only. thought now was Of what she could dc
for its aid. 1t flashed upon her that she bad
seen pile of driftwood and light stuff on
the shore, near the tower She would make
bonfire! If the captain knew the coast
the light might be guide. A. least, il
would be sig nthat his signal was heard.
As qucklEas she could, working in the
darkness, she heaped some of the fue
among the rocks. Fortunately she bad ;
bunch Of matches in her basket that she ha(
bought in town. But her fire would 10
statt. She caught off her straw bonnet fo
kindling. II smouldered. smoked-at last {
blaze! Frantically she piled on the dry STUFF
till the shore was lighted up by the fame
The ships gun kept booming or, but Bet,
fancied it had a new sound, "a tone of rec
ignition and hope. She must leave her bea
con now, to do its work of love as best il
might alone, while she sought new aid
Sbe threw on last armful, and set out Oh