The Lights and Shadows of Real Life Part 45

And then the poor half-conscious girl, covered her face with her hands and sobbed aloud.

"Don't do so, dear sister!" Alfred said, pressing up to the bedside, and drawing his arm around her. "Don't give way so! You won't have to stand at the counter any longer. I am Alfred--your brother--your long lost, but restored brother, who will care for you and work for you as you have so long cared for and worked for him. Take courage, dear sister! There are better and happier days for you. Do not give up now, at the very moment when relief is at hand."

Anna looked her brother in the face for a few moments, steadily, as her bewildered senses gradually returned, and she began to comprehend truly what he said, and that it was indeed her brother who stood thus before her, and thus appealed to her with affectionate earnestness.

"O, Alfred," the almost heart-broken creature, said--as she bent forward, and leaned her head upon his bosom--"Heaven be praised, if you are really and truly in earnest in what you say!"

"I am most solemnly in earnest, dear sister!" the young man said, with fervency and emphasis. "Since I saw you this morning, I have signed my name to the total abstinence pledge, and I will die before that pledge shall be broken! And that is not all. I met Charles Williams immediately after that act, and have had a long interview with him. He confessed to me that he had often felt that he was much to blame for having first introduced me into dissipated company, and that he now desired to aid me in reforming and a.s.sisting my mother and sisters, if I would only try and abandon my past evil courses. I responded most gladly to his generous interest, and he then told me, that if I would enter his and his father's store as a clerk, he would make my salary at once a thousand dollars per annum. Of course I a.s.sented to the arrangement with thankfulness. Dear mother! Dear sisters! There is yet, I trust, a brighter day in store for you."

"May our Heavenly Father cause these good resolutions to abide for ever, my son!" Mrs. Graham, who had followed her children up stairs, said, with tearful earnestness.

"He will cause them to abide, mother, I know that he, will," Alfred replied.

Just at that moment some one entered below--immediately after quick feet ascended the stairs, and Ellen bounded into the room.

"O, I have such good news to tell!" she exclaimed, panting for breath as she entered. "My husband has joined the reformers! I felt so glad that I had to run over and let you know. O, aint it good news, indeed!" And the poor creature clapped her hands together in an ecstacy of delight.

"It is truly good news, my child," Mrs. Graham said, as she drew her arm about the neck of Ellen. "And we too have glad tidings. Alfred has joined them also, and has got a situation at a thousand dollars a year."

Ellen, who had always loved her brother, tenderly, notwithstanding his vile habit of life, turned quickly towards him, and flinging her arms about his neck, said while the tears gushed from her eyes,

"Dear brother! I have never wholly despaired of this hour. Truly, my cup of joy is full and running over!"

It was about eleven o'clock on the next day, as Mary and her mother sat conversing by the side of the bed upon which lay Anna, now too ill to sit up, that a knock was heard below. Mrs. Graham went down and opened the door, when an elegantly dressed lady entered, calling her by name as she did so, at the same time asking for Anna and Mary.

She was shown up stairs by the mother, who did not recognise her, although both voice and face seemed familiar. On entering the chamber, Mary turned to her and exclaimed--

"Mary Williams! Is it possible!"

"And Mary Graham, is it indeed possible that I see you thus!"--(kissing her)" And Anna--is that pale, worn face, the face of my old friend and companion, Anna Graham?" And she bent down over the bed and kissed the lips and cheek of the sick girl, tenderly, while her eyes grew dim with tears. "How changed in a few short years!" she added, as she took a proffered chair. "Who could have dreamed, seven years ago, that we should ever meet thus!"

In a short time, as the first shock and surprise of meeting pa.s.sed off, Mary Williams, or rather Mrs. Harwood, entered into a serious conversation with Mrs. Graham, and her daughters, in reference to the past, the present, and the future. After learning all that she could of their history since their father's failure, which was detailed without disguise by Mary--Anna was too feeble to converse--Mrs. Harwood turned to Mary and asked suddenly--

"Do you know this cape, Mary?" alluding to one she had on.

"O, yes--very well."

"You worked it, did you not?"

"Yes."

"For what price?"

"Two dollars."

"Is it possible! I bought it of Mrs.--for French, and paid her for it fifteen dollars."

"Fifteen dollars!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mary, in surprise. "How shamefully that woman has imposed upon me! During the last two years, I have worked at least one hundred capes for her, each of which brought me in only two dollars. No doubt she has regularly sold them for French goods, at from ten to fifteen dollars apiece."

"No doubt of it. I, myself, have bought several from her during that time at high prices, all of which may have been worked by you. I saw you in her store a few days ago, but did not recognise you, although your appearance, as it did several times here before, attracted my attention. I had my suspicions, after I had learned from Mrs.--who you were, that you had wrought this cape, and from having overheard you ask her for an advance of six dollars, as the price of three capes, was pretty well satisfied that two dollars was all you received for it. I at once determined to seek you out, and try to aid you in your severe struggle with the world. It was only last evening that I learned from my brother where you lived--and I also learned, what rejoiced my heart, that there was about occurring a favourable change in your circ.u.mstances. If, however, your health should permit, and your inclination prompt you to do so, I will take care that you get a much better price for any capes that you may hereafter work. They are richly worth ten and twelve dollars apiece, and at that price, I have no doubt but that I can get sales for many."

"Bless you, Mary! Bless you!" Anna said, smiling through gus.h.i.+ng tears, as she rose up in the bed, and bent over towards her old friend and companion. "Your words have fallen upon my heart like a healing balsam!"

Mrs. Harwood came forward, and received the head of Anna upon her bosom, while she drew an arm round her waist, and bent down and pressed her with tenderness and affection.

A better day had truly dawned upon this ruined and deeply afflicted family. Mrs. Harwood and her brother continued to be their steady friends. For a year Alfred remained in his new situation as an efficient clerk, and at the end of that time had his salary advanced. During that period, Mary, and Anna, whose health had become measurably restored, employed all their spare time in embroidery, which, at the excellent prices which, through the aid of Mrs. Harwood, they were enabled to get for their really beautiful work, brought in a handsome addition to their brother's earnings, and this enabled them to live in independence, comfort and respectability. As for Ellen, her husband had become truly a reformed man, and provided for her comfortably.

It is now nearly two years since this happy change took place, and there is every appearance that another and a still happier one is about to occur in reference to Anna. Charles Williams is seen very often, of late, riding out with her and attending her to public places. The reader can easily guess the probable result. If there; is not a wedding-party soon, then appearances, in this case at least, are very deceptive.

THE RUM-SELLER'S DREAM.

"HOW much have you taken in to-day, Sandy?" asked a modern rum-seller of his bar-tender, after the doors and windows of his attractive establishment were closed for the night.

"Only about a dollar, Mr. Graves. I never saw such dull times in my life."

"Only about a dollar! Too bad! too bad! I shall be ruined at this rate."

"I really don't know what ails the people now. But 'spose it's these blamenation temperance folks that's doin' all the mischief."

"We must get up something new, Sandy;--something to draw attention to our house."

"So I've been a thinkin'. Can't we get George Was.h.i.+ngton Dixon to walk a plank for us? That would draw crowds, you know; and then every feller almost that we got in here would take a drink."

"We can't get him, Sandy. He's secured over at the--. But, any how, the people are getting up to that kind of humb.u.g.g.e.ry; and I'm afraid, that, like the Indian's gun, it would cost in the end more than it came to."

"Couldn't we get a maremaid?"

"A mermaid?"

"Yes, a maremaid. You know they had one in town t'other day. It would be a prime move, if we could only do it. We might fix her up here, just back of where I stand, so that every feller who called to see it would have to come up to the bar, front-face. There'd be no backing out then, you know, without ponying up for a drink. No one would be mean enough, after seeing a real maremaid for nothing, to go away without sh.e.l.ling out a fip for a gla.s.s of liquor."

"Nonsense, Sandy! Where are we to get a mermaid?"

"Where did they get that one from?"

"That was brought from j.a.pan; and was a monkey's head and body sewed on to a fish's tail,--so they say;"

"Well, can't we send to j.a.pan as well as any one? And as to its being a monkey's head on a fish's tail, that's no concern. It would only make a better gull-trap."