Juliet signal. [volume] (Juliet [i.e. Joliet], Ill.) 1844-1???, 1863-12-15

brave, bright. irreDressible spirit full of
OF childlike faith, that the ruthless tread of
pain had only pressed into sweeter fra
GRANGE.
1t was thus. the song still trembling On
her lips, that she opened the door to Char
lie Knowles.
Mis- Grey, believe. ! called on lit.
tie matter of business. I saw you at Mr..
Knowles Office this morning, where your
manuscript had the honor of being reject
cd. l fancied, from what be told me, it
might be more in our line than his.
| am connected with the Era. Would you
allow Inc to read it2'
Ce rtainly, SIR taking it from the little
drawer where it lay, neatly wrapped in
brown paper.
When shall 1 call at your Office,
sir 2
NEXT week, l think say on Thurs
day. and the young man bowed himself
out.
Thursday it rained when she called on
Friday the office was closed. % Saturday
the knob turned obedent to her touch, adj.
hitting her into the small room, half-fIled.
1t seemed to her, with men, mostly young,
engaged in animated conversation. No
one observed her entrance.
Say, Knowles said one, who wrote
that story you gaue US this week? Quite
a new FEATURE
Yes. What do you think Of it? l be.
lIeVe you voted fiction and original poetry
out Of this enterprise
'Women's stuff! 1 did. But this is a
great thing, great. I'd have sworn it was
yours if you hadn't announced it with
such flourish of trumpets.'
You give me credit of modesty. Thank
you.
But who is it Anybody we know or
have you unearthed a new genius?'
Melicent. her hand still on the door,
growing alternately red and pale, waited
breehless Tor the answer. It came very
quietly from the centre of the now silent
group.
10 the words of Carlyle, the writer
thereof is of that singular class who have
nothing to say
That's so; but you haven't told his
name
Haven't I?'
At this point slight shabby young man
with reporting book under his arm turn
ed and caught sight of the little maiden
who was about making good her retreat
He said something in lew voice. than
spoke aloud:
Time we are going, Hammond
The others looked round, and preseptlV
one after another fed past her down the
stair.
Mr.. Knowles came forward, coloring
slightly, stammered an apology of which
Melicent lost the drift, recovered himssIf
and proceeded to business.
Her story was highly satisfactory. On
account OF limited space he haG cut il into
serial OF three or four numbers, and had
sent the first part to press immediately.-
When that vas published, could she furn
lsh another, longer, say six or eight numb.
ers, or to 60 through the campa irn: after
that he couldn't tell what their REQUIRE
ments would be.
He detained her some time in copyersa.
ton, and Melicent went home with a gen
eral Impression 49, 80: . .he election in Nov
ember was the ultimatuu of all plans am
projects human or divine.
With the incubus of dobt lifted from her
eountenanee, she began her work Tery
hopefully.
The second tale was written and pub
llshed, and Melicent sat amopg her papers
trying to commence another. She was
weary with that peculiar WEAKNESS which
writers know 50 we'll Her brain seemed
quite empty. She wondered vaguely if
anything was happening anywhere that
could be made story of. She wondered
if there were really any lovers 10 the world
nOw-if she sOuld ever 30 far believe it as
to paint another love scene-if she should
ever realize again that there was such a
think as actual pain or actual joy.
There were people moving along the
street through the gray November after
noon, but they seemed like nothing but
phantOms. spectral and dim. She wished
she COLD lie down and sleep away this
strangeDess, and wake up to the glad ia
miliar feel or real morning. But sleep,
she began to think, was one of the lost
sleep as used to fold her softly
under the roof o. the old farmhouse when
the autumn winds ratified the loose case
ments, and she slept on unheeding. Or if
she could hut 60 out on the old bills and
feel the north wind beating against her
cheeks. Her eyes flooded with sudden
tears. She tossed them off She would
not cry; she was only tired OF heing shut
W In her good. A friends face would
MIR. knowle's-she bad not seen him for a
week. lie had been very busy getting in
the election returns, and numbe-less things
beside, and, after all, Fremont was defeat
ed. How disappointed be must be, he had
30 set his heart on it. She would like to
see him feww minutes; she was half a
mind to 90. FOOLISH She had not the
shadow Of an errand.
A rap at the door started her from her
muslng. She opened it to Mr.. Charlie
Knowles.
He had never called since that 6rst time
when he came to ask for her manuscript,
months before.
Good evening, Mr.. Knowles
Good evening, Miss Grey. Why don't
yos exclaim, You are the last person |
thought of seeing2'
You are the last person though Of she
answered, arcbly, glanciDg hastily about
her tiny room, half doubling if il were
proper to ask him in.
He caught the meaning of her glance,
and exclaimed, in a tone of playful entrea-
~:
Please invite me in. l haven't the
shadow Ofan errand, save the plain, uu-
vanished purpose of seeing you.'
She smiled and held the door wide for
him to enter. She drew her simple rock
ing-ohair before the fire and resumed her
seat by the window.
i believe / got lOnesome-what you
women call blue
Did youP looking wistfully in his
face. You are very much dissapoin-
ted
In the election 2 Sufficiently SO, sup
pose. / thought six weeks ago we should
certainly carry it. Well, we are defeated,
and the universe doesn't seem to have
crumbIed yet. Did you observe any stars
displaced last night-anything wrong in
the planetary systemF
Melicent laughed.
Then you are not in despair =