The Olneyville times. (Olneyville [Providence, R.I.]) 1887-1917, 1914-12-04

the shore. He was pale and gaspins
for breath.
you saved mel" cried Burnham
gratefully. but you"
II am hurt internally, seriously"
painted the other painfully. "Quicki
listen! my side struck a rock when
jumped. but am glad saved YOU"
But, man" but just here the
stranger closed his eyes and lay nerve.
less. Only once he revived.
Il am dying" he breathed feebly.
Promise me-my brothers widow
in the satchel." and passed away,
grasping Burnham's hand in a convus
sive clutch.
The next day Burnham started for q
distant city. He carried with him the
satchel belonging to the man who
had saved his life. A change had
come over him. The first strong inn
preston of his new life was the sight
OK the peaceful farm life. 1t fingered
like picture. The second was graft.
tude for the man who had given up
his life to save his own.
His thought ran rapidly. Sud
denly, thrillingly this outcast found
his existence directed into new chan.
nels. He had seen that his rescuer
was buried. Then he had opened the
satchel and inspected its contents.
From that moment Mark Burnham be.
came Eli Walters.
For he felt ii a sacred trust to take
up the life of his rescuer where the
latter had lain it down. In the satchel
he found little hoard of about two
hundred dollars. There were also let.
ters and papers. An appeal had
reached Walters from his brothers
widow, whom he had never seen. He
had decided to go to her, relieve her
necessities and devote his years to
care for her and her little family.
Burnham found the Walters family
destitute, indeed. He had assumed
the identity of a relative they had
never seen and was accepted as the
real Uncle Eli That hard heart of
his softened like wax as he employed
the 5000 to bring cheer and comfort
where there had been despair and suf.
fering. The widow was sickly and al.
most an invalid. There were five lit
tie children. Within a week the chill.
dren were grouping about him as
though he were a real father, and the
widow was filled with gratitude and
hope.
For the first time, one day, Burnham
saw Ida Worth. She had been i'll for
month and called while he was in
the house. From the first, her earnest,
patient face attracted him. He learned
that she had practically supported the
widow and her family for several
months, but illness had come and she
was now as poor as themselves. She
said the doctor had prescribed a rest,
country air, but that was beyond
her attainment.
I'm going away for a day or two"
Burnham told Mrs. Walters that eve-
ming. MY dream-I will make 1t
true!" he pledged himself fervently.
Two weeks later Burnham conveyed
the Walters family and Miss Worth
to their new home, a lovely country
cottage. He had used his own money
to give to the widow a surety Of pro
vision for the rest Of her life.
Il am going away" he said to Ida
a week later.
He noted that she changed color
and her lips fluttered, and he won.
dered why.
Il must tell you what the others
need not know" he continued sadly.
Il am not the uncle OF those children"
and he told her all.
Then you are even a nobler man
than / thought" burst forth Ida inn
petuously.
Il am an ex-convict," and the rest
Of the wretched story came out.
You have nobly redeemed your.
SELF" breathed Ida. "Oh, do not go
away, they need you. We love you!"
Her hands had now rested In his
own. He looked into her eyes, fear
somely, and then with a rare thrill.
She swayed towards him, and he knew
that his fond dream had come true.
Copyright. 1914, by w. G. Chapman)