Dodgeville chronicle. [volume] (Dodgeville, Wis.) 1862-current, 1871-05-12

"You'll come and make us that visi
in the summer. Vesey"
Il don't know. Perhaps so.'
"Of course you will
"To be sure" added Darrell. III shall
come for you myself"
They were gone at last. She turned
away. .
"But, Mr.. Hayes Vesey -
She had forgotten his existence.
~ am afraid | am rude" And she
put out her hand. "Good night; but
indeed, may confess now that ! have a
wretched headache, and-and-." That
was all she said. The. play was over.
The spring and early summer wore
away One letter came from Darrel-a
letter such as he might have sent to
any chance acquaintance, full of hints
of gay doings here and there-nothing
more. One little note Vesey wrote to
his mother to say she could not make
the promised visit Darrell had said
nothing in his letter of coming for her.
"And tell Darrel'-at the close of her
note" that l am saving any amount Of
gossip against writing him some. day."
But the "some day. never came. Alb
sence, like strong light, brings out
hidden defects, and Vesey knew now
that he was man Selfish and vain, who
had played with her heart. He had
had held it in his hand, weighed and
measured it and her, and had cast both
aside as worthless. She thought of it
with burning cheeks. #..
With another winter came the Wins
lows. If she had dreaded it, if she had
feared for herself, would it have been
strange? But the spell was broken.
Looking back, she wondered.
Outwardly the old intim ICY was re-
sumed. Darrell came and went as he
had come and gone the year before.
But to Vesey it was only shell-a hol-
low, heartless thing, that never had
been frienship, and could never now be
lieve. Paul, plodding along day. after
day in the round Of his duties, saw, as
though great way off, Vesey and Dar-
rel flying up and down the icy streets
to the tinl1le of silver bells.
One night Vesey, glowing in crimson,
with white chrysanthemums in her
hair, passed through the hall. The outer
door was wide open. Paul stood outside.
The wind, raw and wet with the breath
of the sea, caught her hair-at the silk
en- ruffies of her dress.
ooh, is it you? But you are coming
in p
She little knew how the words temp
ted him, how the vision tempted him,
as she paused with clasped hands under
the gas-light, and with the warm bright
room beyond.
"I can not; | am waiting for your
father. There is family at the lower
end of the town starry"
The words checked him. r." Thank
you, not tonight he said. He had
longed to meet her again, like this
alone, and face to face. But her light
manner, her dainty dress, angered him
tonight. He had come from such a
different scene. Only woman of the
world, after all, he thought. And yet
so sweet, so bitterly sweet, he owned,
when he had turned away and plunged
into the cold and darkness. Darrell was
waiting for her in the drawing room.
"You're like poem tonight, in all
that ruby red-like an Eastern song"
"Thank you," Vesey said, dreamily.
"I couldn't imagine you in gray" he
went on, half to himself, cor in any
thing somber, or worn, or poor He
had begun to study the girl in earnest
now. =" Yes, you are made for the rarest
and best, Vesey to shine in satin and
diamonds"
"Is that ALL" she asked, wistfully.
"All ? Is that not enough? 1t would
satisfy most women |"
But tonight it did not satisfy her.
Down at the beginning of the long
long street was a black, low-browed
house, like many others here, with a
shop in the lower story, or, more prop
erly, two, since one window was occupied
by Matchmaker, and the other dis
played pins, and needles, spools of cot
ton and such wares. Above them were
two or three with slanting sides, where
a deformed girl, pitfful looking sight
to look at-lived with her mother, earn
ing enough by sewing to put break into
their mouths and scanty clothing upon
their back-no more. Vesey employed
them; from pity, mostly, since her work
could have been better done elsewhere.
She stepped out Of the sleigh here at
dusk one night and ran up the stairs, a
roll of work in her hands She had to
wait moment, so she sat and talked
with the girl, who was young like her
self, and yet not like herself at all. 1t
made her happier in the happy lot that
had sometimes wearied her. 1t made
her thankful for her strong young life,
which she had never named among her
blessings, and it shot gleam of pleas
ure through the girls dark days.
1t was poor room with paper torn
and soiled, of many patterns, upon the
walls, with the bare boards of the floor
yawning, rising and falling uneasily !;
with the dim light struggling through
uncertain windows that peered from
under the caves like eyes from over
hanging brows. A low voice in con-
tinuous murmur fell upon Vesey's ear.
1t seemed to come from the next room.
What is that p
'Thas IN ?' The girls pale face grew
bright. " It's the minister, Mr.. Hayes.
He comes and prays with mother, now
she's sick"
The voice ceased. She heard his
steps upon the stairs. 1t was but sec
OnQ-ne cOuIu nOG nave reacneu bne
street, when a shrek came from the
room he had left The girl sat like one
paralyzed. Vesey threw open the door.
A swift line of light ran all adown the
bed. It burst into flame, in the
midst of which the sick woman strug-
gled. The overturned candle at her
head told the story. Itwas an instinct
there was no time for thought
which made Vesey drag the square of
carpet from the floor and press it down
upon the flames. They shot out into
her face. They seemed to catch away
her breath They licked her arm