The Lights and Shadows of Real Life | Page 8

beautiful flower, and even though his mind had become, in a certain degree, degraded and debased by intemperance, there was in it a quick instinct of protection when any thing approached his child.
Slowly and thoughtfully, with her eyes bent upon the ground, did Mary Bacon pursue her way homeward; and she was not aware of the approach of footsteps behind her, until a man stood by her side and pronounced her name.
"Mr. Green!" said she, in momentary surprise, pausing as she looked up.
Mr. Green was a farmer in easy circumstances, whose elegant and highly cultivated place was only a short distance from her father's residence. He was, probably, the richest man in the neighbourhood of Brookville; though, exceedingly close in all money matters. Mr. Bacon would have called upon him for aid in his extremity, but for two reasons. One was, Mr. Green's known indisposition to lend money, and the other was the fact that he had several times talked to him about his bad drinking habits; at which liberty he had taken offence, and retorted rather sharply for one of his mild temper.
The colour mounted quickly to Mary's face, as she paused and lifted her eyes to the countenance of Mr. Green. The fact was, she had been thinking about him, and, just at the moment he came to her side, she had fully made up her mind to call upon him before going home.
"Well Mary," said he, kindly, and he took her hand.
Mary's lips quivered, but she could not utter a word.
Mr. Green moved on, still holding her hand, and she moved by his side.
"I'm sorry to hear," said Mr. Green, "that your father is in trouble. I learned it only an hour ago."
"That is just what I was coming to see you about," replied Mary, with a boldness of speech that surprised even herself.
"Indeed! Then you were coming to see me," said Mr. Green, in a voice that was rather encouraging than otherwise.
"Yes, sir. But father knows nothing of my purpose."
"Oh! Well, Mary, what is it you wish to say to me?"
The young girl's bosom was heaving violently. Some moments passed ere she felt calm enough to proceed. Then she said--
"Mr. Dyer has a mortgage on father's place for three hundred dollars, and is going to sell it."
"Mr. Dyer is a hard man, and your father should not have placed himself in his power," remarked Mr. Green.
"Unhappily, he is in his power."
"So it seems. Well, what do you wish me to do in the case?"
"To lend me three hundred dollars," said Mary, promptly. Thus encouraged to speak, she did not hesitate a moment.
"Lend you three hundred dollars! returned Mr. Green, rather surprised at the directness of her request. "For what use?"
"To pay off this mortgage, of course," replied Mary.
"But, who will pay me back my money?" inquired Mr. Green.
"I will," said Mary, confidently. "You! Pray where do you expect to get so much money from?"
"I expect to earn it," was firmly answered.
Mr. Green paused, and turning towards Mary, looked earnestly into her young face that was lit up with a beautiful enthusiasm.
"Earn it, did you say?"
"Yes, sir, I will earn and pay it back to you, if it takes a lifetime to do it in."
"How will you earn it, Mary?"
Mary let her eyes fall to the ground, and stood for a moment or two. Then looking up, she said--
"I will go to Lowell."
"To Lowell?"
"Yes, sir."
"And work in a factory?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Green moved on again, but in silence, and Mary walked with an anxious heart by his side. For the distance of several hundred yards they passed along and not a word was spoken.
"To Lowell?" at length dropped from the lips of Mr. Green, in a tone half interrogative, half in surprise. Mary did not respond, and the silence continued until they came to a point in the road where their two ways diverged.
"Have you thought well of this, Mary?" said Mr. Green, as he paused here, and laid his hand upon a gate that opened into a part of his farm.
"Why should I think about it, Mr. Green?" replied Mary. "It is no time to think, but to act. Hundreds of girls go into factories, and it will be to me no hardship, but a pleasure, if thereby I can help my father in this great extremity."
"Is he aware of your purpose?"
"Oh, no sir! no!"
"He would never listen to such a thing."
"Not for a moment."
"Then will you be right in doing what he must disapprove?"
"It is done for his sake. Love for him is my prompter, and that will bear me up even against his displeasure."
"But he may prevent your going, Mary."
"Not if you will do as I wish."
"Speak on."
"Lend me three hundred dollars on my promise to you that I will immediately go to Lowell, enter