St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-07-22
RUTH'S DEVOTION.
L Selfish Love That Almost De-
strOyed Her Life.

years. was stricken helpless with par
HlySiS.
Ruth was Just 90 when her mother died.
md others besides her father thought mel
face the fairest one for miles around. She
had the bluest of eyes, like patches OF sum-
mer sky. and hair that was the color OF corn
silk. and nestled i'll little baby curls all over
her head-rebellious hair, that would never
lie straight under any coaXing. but klnked
I'M i'm tanples that were full OF sunlight.
Her skin was white as milk, her cheeks
like the heart of a blush rose, and her smile
showed the prettieSt rows OF pearly teelh
ever saw.
She devised little dainty dishes to tempt
me to eat; she put saucerS OF flowers on my
table that l might cheat myself INTO fancy
ing l was outdoors, as their perfume crept
ont on the Air: she assured me, petted me,
loved me. till even my misfOrtunes seemed
blessings drawing us nearer together.
And when she was all the world TO me. all
that saved me from misery, John Hayes
asked me to give him Ruth for his vile.
could have struck him dead when he stood
before me. a young giant III strength, WIN
his handsome, sunbumt face glowing with
health. and wanted TO take away my one
blessing, my only home child.
II will be true son toyou, MI. Martln,
he said, earnestly. Il VIII never take hutl
from here: but let me come and share her
life. and lift some of the burdens from her
shoulders"
I laughed bitterly. l knew well what
such sharing would be when Ruth had a hlis-
band. and perhaps children, to take her
time and her love from me. But | was not
harsh. | did not turn this sutton from my
house and bid him never speak TO Ruth
again. much as l longed TO do 1t. worked
more cautiously. | let him go from me TO
Ruth: and when he left her, and she came
back to me all rosy bushes to tell me, with
dropping lids and moist eyes OF her new
happiness. / worked upon her love and upon
her sense of duty till she believed herself
monster of ungrateful wickedneSs to think
of leaving me or taking any divided duty
upon her hands.
The loving. tender heart yielded to me,
and John was tearfully dismissed. Through
the warm autumn months, when the corn
ripened and was garnered-when our crops
were blessed and the little bank-fund was
increased by the price of the farm produce
Ruth grew very quiet and Subdued. She
was not sad. having always CHEEKY word
and a pleasant smile for Inc, but the pretty
roSe-tint left her round cheeks, and L no
longer heard her singing at her work. When
l read the best pages in my books to her |
could see her eyes fixed dreamily on some
PARKWAY thought, her work lying idle, till
she woke with start at my fretful queS-
tionS.
The winter came in early that year, and
before Christmas everything was frozen up
tight and the cold was intense. We piled
up coal in the stoves, listed doors and win
Il, :, ID, i Il 5l,nxx IL Il
loved the result; but there came one cold
day-one Friday-when it seemed no Goals.
no listing could conquer the cold. Children
froze on the way TO school that day and were
found, stiff and stark, leaning against the
fences. Food froZe on the tables.
On this cold Friday Ruth hurried through
her work i'll the morning, making my room
the warmest place in the house, covering
my armchair with soft woolenS and moving
it near the stove. l would have it face the
window, for my glimpse of outdoor life was
too precious to resign: but L was not. as
usual. near it, for Ruth said there might be
a draft.
When all was done indoors 1 saw from
my chair Ruth, with a scarlet cloak and
hood thrown over her, going TO the well
with an empty bucket. She stepped along
quickly over the hard, frozen ground, and
was admiring the trim little feet and the
dainty figure, when | saw her slide TO the
two steps that were above the well walls and
fall. She had slipped, and she lay doubled
up between the two wooden steps and the
rough sides Of the well, as if she could not
rise. Two or three times her hands clutched
the lower step and she raised herself half
way up, only to fall back again, as if her
limbs would not support her.
4 n l,,alr -
move to aid her. Oh, the agony of it. To
know she was hurt. unable to rise, and
helpless as a log. / screamed and called for
help. Silas was somewhere, could not tell
where, and | called loudly for him. i could
see, after time, that Ruth, after her frantic
struggles, was growing drOwsy with the
death-sleep of cold. The scarlet hood
dropped more and more, till it resteu against
the well-side, and the blue-veined lids closed
overher eyes. The sight called from me
such cry of agony as L thought must be
heard for miles.
1t was heard. A moment later John
Hayes, painting and eager-eyed, burst open
my door.
ssWhat is it?' he cried. 81 heard you
calling on the road"
Ruth! Ruthr' 1 screamed. ''She is
freezing to death by the well.''
He stopped to hear no more. Out upon
the hard, slippery ground, down the steps
with swift, rapid strides, and then L saw
him stoop and lift the little scarlet-cloaked
figure in his strong arms and come swiftly
back, bending his face down over the sense
less one on his arm, while hot tears rained
down his brown cheeks. He put her on a
lounge near my chair and then dashed out
for snow.
Rub her, rub herr he said. 81 am 60
ing for the doctor and my mother"
Before it seemed possible he could have
crossed the lots to his home his mother was
with me, and lifted Ruth away from the fire
to the bed The doctor came, and the two
worked till my heart sank with utter hope
lessness. before the blue eyes opened again
or the breath 1luttered through the pale
lipS.
But it did at last, and John joined me in
a feryent Thank Godr'
But Ruth had broken her leg, and we
knew that she must lie helpless for MANY
weeks before she could be our own active.
bright girl again.
DO not grieve So" he said, gently. She
will live"
Thanks to you.' I said. .'Oh. John. if
she gets well she is yours. Give her your
strong arm for life. John, instead on nv
h6lplessness. / see to-day where my selfish
love has nearly cost her her life"
''DC yCG mean tilat??" John asked. with
a little trembling III his voice; do you really
mean that?"
Il do. indeed. Let her stay here. John.
will not be burden on your purse. for
the house and farm and all have saved
are Ruth'S, but let her give me what time
andlove she can spare from you.'
But he had to wait until the banns were
called in church three times, though he
came to us that day, caring for me with the