The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1886-01-28

cleared the tea-table John Trowbridpe
wont once more to the village.
DIR. Reynolds, the only physician
there, Harry's fast friend for years,
was in his Office when the farmer en-
tered.
There it is!'' said the visitor tri-
umphantly: you are sure it is worth
the money!
Perfectly sure. And Mrs. Trow-
bridge wishes me to invest the sum
obtain in piano2'
''Bless you, no! that's nv part of it.
You see, the poor little soul tries to do her
best, but she amt fit for her hard life.
It there was any other home for her
ID send her away, though Id rather
miss the sunlight. She's as dainty as q
butterfly, and yet she has no fine lady
! ways either. But she bankers for q
piano, and she shall have one, Earnest, -
and the old mans eyes filled, cher own
father gave her that gimcrack, and I've
seen her kiss it often, but when I asked
her to give it to me, because I needed
money, she put it in my hand with a
kiss. and told me 1 was gladly welcome.
She's a good girl, if she amt much of
hand at work.
"She is not very strong,' and Ernest
Reynolds stifed sigh as he spoke.
Then, with quick change of voice, he
added: Il am going to the city to-
morrow. ! will sell the cross and buy
the piano."
But when the farmer was gone
Ernest Reynolds took strange LIBERTIES
with the jewel he held in charge. He
slipped ribbon through its ring and
hung it over his own heart. More
than once he touched his lips to. the
hard, glitter'ng stones. Whispering:
"Essie, little Essie!''
The next day he had it valued bv q
jeweler, and bought a piano with the
sum named; but the cross rested still
upon his heart as the bill of the sweet
toned instrument was paid.
1t would be a vain task to describe
ESTES pleasure when the piano was
! brought to the sitting-room. She cried
| and smiled at the same time, and her
| earnest thanks brought moisture to the
old farmers eyes.
He knew nothing of the wonderful
power prisoned in the slender fingers.
SCARED with rough work. He had no
tender young soul. But he did know
that Essie could sway him as she willed
by the sounds she drew from the Won
drous keys; could bring tears to his
eyes or smiles to his lips; could lift him
to alteration by her stirring hymns, or
carry his heart to the foot of the cross
by the pleading power of her voice in
prayerful song.
She knew soon and well that her de-
sir6 was no pain to the kind, old man,
but that, while it was rest and iov to
her, it was q comfort to him.
Rut the pressure of'poverty was COM
ing closer and closer upon the farm.
Acre after acre was sold to meet actual
daily needs, and the wolf drew verv
close to the door of John Trow-
BRIDGES house. With stern pride he
hid his wants from his neighbors, but
Essie knew of privations and self
denials that wrung her own tender
heart.
Like burst of sunlight there came to
her two offers. One to be organist at
the village church, one to take q class
of music scholars in the seminary, five
miles from the village. Twice a week
a carriage would be sent for her, and
the salaries were more than double the
income from the farm. Neither John
Trowbridge nor Essie knew that DR..
Reynolds, by quiet, unsupported influ-
ence had brought about this happy
result. No one knew that he had driven
the principal of the seminary over on an
evening when Essie was pouring out
her whole soul in music, and held him
spell-bound for two hours on the farm
house porch.
But they did know that a strong
armed Irish girl could be paid to do
the work of the house out of Essie's in
come, and that q trustworthy man was
found to take the teamwork on shares.
John Trowbridge began to realize
that there were women of some value
in the world who possessed but small
share of bone and muscle for actual
hard work. For scholars came all the
way from L., the market town.
seven miles away, to the farmhouse,
Concerts were given for charitable
purposes, and Essie was engaged at
goodly sums to play. Strangers came
to the village church to hear the
wondrous voice and playing of the
young organist.
And while the comforts of the farm
were multiplied by ESTES generous ex-
penditure, while tee rooms gradually
lost their bare, dismal look, by addi-
tions of furniture and ornaments, while
flowers blossomed on barren spaces,
and the farm itself was more fully
stocked, Essie was ever the same.
The same in respectful love for Har-
rvs father; the same gentle-shy wom-
an, modest as a violet. Yet not the
same as the months sped by, and tho
sorrow of widow-hood lost something
of its keenest pain.
John 1rowbridge wondered little
when the piano had filled its recess for
q whole year, why Ernest Reynolds was
so much interested in the old man.
rheumatism. He had always been an
attentive physician, and had never ne
elected the father of his dear friend,
Harry Trowbridge. But of late he lin
gered long whenever he called, and Of
ten dropped in, unprofessionally.
Essie learned to know his step, and
her shy eyes would brighten when she
heard it. Harry had told her of MANY
noble traits in the doctors character.
and in the village she had heard of his
gentle charities, his conscientious dis
charge of every duty, his Christian in
duence where pain and the shadow of
death crossed his daily path.
Ever shyly distrustfuf Of herself she
did not dream of winning the love of
thus hero of her husbands boyhood.
this generous friend of the afflicted.
this honored member of noble profess
sion.
She had given her first love, true and