The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1892-12-17
A CHRISTMAS STORY.

BE did not notice them at first. They
we're such tiny footprints, and there
were places where tho wash Of the
waves had half efaced them. And ne
was man distraughtwith trouble, his
brain maelstrom Of anguish and hot
anger against the man who would turn
him out Of his home on the morrow
and leave his children without roof to
shelter them.
All, that was where 1t hurt. His
children. He was a strong man, equal
to meeting the bullets of fortune, and
able to make his way up again. if he
had to begin at the very lowest round
OF the ladder. lie could endure priva-
ton and overwork. His wife was young
and capable, cheerful and willing. But
the childrenl
He had been watching their play for
the last hour; their happy, careless
play, SO unconscious were they Of com.
ing i'll, until he could endure the sight
no longer, and hadrushed out into the
gathering night. How little they
guessed that soon they were to leave
their comfortable home, the home he
had toiled so hard to make, and striYen
so hard to save.
He had slipped into this strait so
easily. That was always the way. Hap
piness and comfort were only to be
wrested from fate by herculean effort.
Poverty and misery waited on the
beck OF a finger. In the beginning he
had needed little money to provide
the necessary implements to cultivate
his place; to whom should he SO natur-
ally apply as to his wealthy neighbor,
Judge Van Asteyne, who made BUSH
ness OF loanlnp money, and lived on the
bluff overlooking the sea he had
given mortgage on his place as secur-
ity, and how was he to know, what
people limited freely now, that the rich
man had long coveted his own little
strip Of land which adjoined the judges
extensive grounds? Then had come
the dreadful seige Of scarlet fever which
had attacked his household, and little
Annie, narrowly saved from death, had
been left cripple.
His heart softened at the thought Of
his crippled child; and it was this re-
membrane of her that stirred him to
an, interest in the tiny footprints that
went'on before him, t3,
They were not like his Annie's, those
even prints of light and nimble feet.
His heart ached anew as he remember
ed the last time he had borne her in his
arms to the beach, and the strange trail
tho poor little lame foot had made.
dragging in the sand. This child had
a narrow, shapelytoot, and in some Of
the prints there was the distinct mark
OF tiny French heel. Why was it
that there was nowhere any sign Of a
larger footprint. to guidethe little baby.
ish feet2 Why did the little footsteps
go on and on, neverin any place return
ing. Who was there in all the town
that would trust little child to wan
der alone on the sands, with the tide at
the turn and night coming on?
The answer brought throb Of awful
triumph. Who but the people living
in the great house on the bluff? The
Judges little Annie-the petted darling
of fortune, upon whom he had SO often
looked with jealous eyes, comparing her
position with that Of his unfortunate
little one. If he should turn back at
this moment to the home where sat his
sorrowing wife with his hapless child
rem what blame could attach to him il
on the morrow the tidings Of Judge Van
Alsteyne's terrible loss /. should be
brought to him?
GLOW did it concern him if fate was
about to deal to this man who had so
persecuted him a blow more deadly
than this that had been leveled at him
self2
He looked back toward the great
house. There lights in all the rooms.
Even at that distance he seemed to'see
figures rushing to and fro and the signs
OF unusual agitation and excitement.
The next instant he rued the loss OF
even that moment OF waning daylight,
and, bending low to make sure OF the
direction OF the little footprints, ran
swiflyon.
Once, twice, thrice, he knelt in tho
gloom and searched for the dim impress
sions he was following, and the last
time he felt cautiously with hisfngers
on the cold, wet sand TO verify the tes-
timony Of his eyes in the failing light
At length he seemed to hear faint
cry in tho distance around q rocky
point. Thesound lent him new strength.
A few rods beyond the point there was
a run of clear water. often mistaken for
an inlet Of the sea: He and others ia
miliar with the coast knew that 1t was q
stream Of fresh water, flowing down
from the mountains and sinking in the
marshes back OF the bluffs in this local
ity, only to pierce the cliffs at an un-
known depth, below the water level,
and to bubble forth afresh where the
sea laved their base. at high water
stream and ocean merged into one, but
at low water the stream rippled forth
TO Join the sea, And at the place where
1t welled up from Its underground pass
ages there were dangerous quicksands.
One misstep and the frightened child,
cropping on in tho night, would meet q
horrible death, swallowed up in mo-
ment. by the greedy suction OF the
sands.
There was q fiutter Of a white garment
on narrow split Of sand, bordered on
one side by tho advancing tide, on. the
other by the stream, with its treacher-
GUS bed and crumbling banks. He
shouted to warn the child OF danger,
and the waves drowned his cry. Con-
fused, exhausted, terrified at the great
breakers that rose with laundering
roar and fell again to dash themselves
over the sand in foaming sheets that
Tapped her feet, she stumbled in tho.
direction Of the quicksands; andit was
on the edge OF the crumbling banks of
sand that Richard Mansfield caught her.
He was stranRelY happy and LIGHT.