New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1870-09-11


from him, and coolly passed his arm I'M
der hers. Poor sister Anne thought she
would sink into the earth.
$50 away! Please to go away, slr!'
she cried, half fainting. II don't know
you! don't wish you to follow me !"
"But really can not be so ungallant as
to let you walk alone" said the young man
pertinaciously. "Pray let me see you
home"
81 have no home r' cried sister Anne, in
an agony of fear
ooh ho" cried her companion; $50
that's it. Let me offer you one, then
Ohw murmured the poor girl, ''if
Stephen Basque was only here!'
stWho calls for Stephen Basque ?" said
passer-by, suddenly catching the words,
sI-I'' cried sister Anne, rushing to-
ward the new conner. ''Do you know
him."
"Why, sister Anne, is it possible that
this is you?" cried Stephen himself, wind
ing a protecting arm around her. "What S
the row."
"That man-that man = sobbed sister
Anne. pointing to respectable looking
fat, old gentleman, who had just stopped
attracted by the scene.
Stephen marched up to him instantly
'What do you mean, sir, SAID he, by
insulting this lady,
"Me ~ exclaimed the man. Il never
saw her before in my life.
'.Oh, it isn't him. cried Anne, who
by this time had recovered her senses :;
then looking around for the true delin-
quent, it was found that he had vanished.
Stephen, of course, offered his apologies
to the bewildered old gentleman, and eX-
planned the mistake; then making sister
Anne take his arm, he burst through the
little crowd that had already formed
around them, and marched up the street.
Il knew you were in the city, he said
to his companion, as soon as they were
clear of the throng; ''the editor of the
Aloe related to me a CURIOUS interview he
had with you to-day. Where are you
staying:"
"Nowhere, said sister Annie, red with
shame.
"Why how is that"
II have no money. | expected to be
paid for my poems, and the poor child
sobbed bitterly.
THAT, indeed, was expecting much
SO you really wrote those delightful
poems: Why, sister Anne, or filbert, you
are genius.
That's very little good to me, if I
can't make money" said Hilbert, still
sobbing.
Not by poetry. certainly. But has it
never entered your little head that there
is a style of composition named prose?
People always pay for prose.
Sister Anne lifted her head. There was
CLEAN Of hope in this.
'Do you think l could write prose-
she said, timidly.
IF you tried hard think you might.
I know very respectable old lady who
keeps a nice boarding house in Fourth
avenue. You shall go there tonight. In
the morning I shall see if | can not get
some newspaper to give you an engage
ment to write some pretty country
sketches. You can call them Dried
Leaves, or some other vegetable title, and
they will be sure to succeed.
Sister Anne said nothing, but gratefully
pressed Stephens arm; and that night,
when she was installed at old Mrs Brit
tons boarding house, she blessed the
young fellow with virgin prayer.
So after all sister Anne staid in New
York, and set up for herself. Stephen
got her an engagement on the weekly
Gong, and very soon some sensation be
gan to be created by her series Of sketches
entitled ''LicheNs, under the signature
of Matilda Moss" She Was paid Cor
these tolerably well. and had the triumph
of writing home to her family that she
was now supporting herself.
Afeer she had been six months in the
city, and had been asked to Miss Ran
sacks literary soiree, and actually was on
the eve of publishing book, Stephen
Basque came into her room one day with
dancing eyes.
..Filbert :" he cried ~ want you to
come and pay visit with me. -
"Where 2" said Filbert, raising her head
from her desk. on which she was writing.
''At ladys," answered Stephen, with
an exultant smile.
What lady',:' and sister Anne felt a
foreshadowirg of evil.
"Well Filbert, the fact is. I'm going to
be married, and-why, Filbert, what's the
natter
Poor Filbert was as pale as death. She
bent her head over her desk, and her
had loved the Young fellow silently for
two long years, and now he was going to
take another to be his darling, 1t was
very hard for her to bear.
Gilbert are you ILL., cried Stephen,
lifting her head gently.
mo, no. she cried impatiently
shrinking from his touch, 1T was only
pain produced by stopping so long. L
am ready, Stephen: let Us go and see your
bride And sister Anne rose with a
steady countenance, and proceeded to put
on her bonnet.
"You will not have to 90 far" cried
Stephen. with strange, Joyous twinkle
in his eyes. she is waiting round at my
studio
Come p said sister Anne, marching
to the martyrdom with sublime resolution.
Tell me, Stephen, is she pretty"
"Lovely as the dawn
'!Young:"
about seventeen
Clever"
"Well, yes. She is rather silent. how
ever, but she looks intellectual.
May God bless YOU and her" cried
sister Anne, clasping his hand convul-
siveiy as they reached the door OF the
studio.
"Amen" answered Stephen fervently,
returning the pressure.
The door opened and they entered The
room was empty.
She is gone, tired Of waiting. per
haps, murnured poor Anne, with sigh
| OF relief.
sNo, she is behind the curtain" an
swered Stephen, stepping up to the RED
merino curtain That hung across one side
| of the studio. NFilbert allow me TO pre-