The herald., 1915-02-25
He was pale and gasping

the shore. he was pale and gasping
for breath.
You saved me-" cried Burnham
gratefully, but you"
Il am hurt internally, seriously"
painted the other painfully. Quick!
listen, my side struck a rock when l
jumped, but am glad saved you"
But, man" but just here the
stranger closed his eyes and lay nerve
less. Only once he revived.
II am dying" he breathed feebly.
Promise me-my brothers widow
in the satchel" and passed away,
grasping Burnham's hand in a convul-
sive clutch.
The next day Durham started for a
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 i'm
preston Of his new life was the sight
Of the peaceful farm life. 1t fingered
like a 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 Durham be-
came Eli Walters.
For he felt 1t a sacred trust to take
up the life of his rescuer where the
! latter had lain 1t down. In the satchel
: he found a little hoard of about two
hundred dollars. There were also let
reached Walters from his brother 8
/ 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
a 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 day or two,
Burnham told Mrs. Walters that eve
ming. MY dream-I will make il
true!" he pledged himself fervently.
Two weeks later Burnham conveyed
the Walters family and Miss Worth
to their new home, 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
week later.
He noted that she changed color
and her lips fiu'tered, 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 mar
than / thought" burst forth Ida i'm
petuously.
Il am an ex-convict," and the res
Of the wretched story came out.
You have nobly redeemed your
SELF" breathed Ida. "Oh, do not e
away, they need you. We love your
Her hands had now rested in hi
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)
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