The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1871-11-25
OCTAVIA HADLEIGH'S STORY.

0CTAVIA HADLEIGH'S STORY.
Where and how shall begin III I'm
like Canning's kniie.grinder, | hare u
story to tell; but to live thing and ia
relate II are so different
wonder if the humble moth, safely
sheltered beneath the projecting greenery
Of some household cabbage, ever feels a
thrill OF envy when the gorgeous butter.
fly, with wings all ablAz0 with velvety
maroon and gold, Alights close by him 2
II 80, the moth must feel Just rs felt
when COrnelia Bydexter sat in our poor
little parlor that November day, with her
chains and rings, and looped.np draper.
les OF cashmere, and primrOse.COlOred
kid gloves buttoncd with links o! gold
1t was rather hard; for could 70.
member the old days when COrnela and
went to school together, and wrote
her compositions for her, and looked out
the hard words in the French dictionary.
There Is no republic like school, and
Cornclia was thankful to be allowed to
sit next to me then; and now she actual.
ly presumed 10 patroni2e me-nO, not OK.
aCily that, either; for Cornelia Bydexter,
notwithstanding her lack Of brains, was
IAN honest, waTm.heArted sort OF girl.
But the poor are sensitive; and although
was pleased to see my old sChoOl.maiC,
the pleasure was not unmiXed with Bit
terness.
Yes, We zero poor and the fact stared
mo In the face wherever vcntured TO
look. Tint we had been rich was no
manner Of consolation The room was
filled with lll.assOrted relics Of furniture
that had once been splendid in rosewood
shine and CLEANS Of satin and broCatellC.
The carpets, now worn threIdbare, were
of royal velvet aud Administer, and the
whole apartment bore vestiges Of that
shabby gGntility, that poor pretenco Of
newnCss and freshness, which Is more
pathetic by far than the undisguised
front of poverty. was tired of arrang.
ing the curtains so that the darnGd spots
should fall In the inner folds, was weary
of putting glued chairs in tho leastused
corners, and setting mGnded china vases
In the shadowy hooks OF mantle and Ia.
BILE Where was the use? Did not every.
body sec through our miserable devices
We were poverty.strickon, and there was
an end Of H.
And yet poor papa sat there In that tor.
lOrn, seCond.rato little room like Wis.
count In his reception chamber. Dear
papa ever since his paralytiC stroke he
had seemed to believe in himself to n de-
gree could not possibly attain to, and to
Imagine that the world also put faith in
him. Nor would we have had II other
wise. And dear mamma, who could not
lOOlSaught else thHn lady In spite Of
mended laccs and oIlurned silks, never
told him Of the daily contests with unpaid
butcher, dissatisfied baker, and clamor
Ously insOlent CandlCstlCk maker And
Jeanette and |, just ut the age when lie
ought-aCcording TO all we had read and
heard--tO wear It's sunniest aspect, grew
up In the shadow, crying softly to our.
selves when II was bittGrest to endure In
sllenCe-iOr II was part Of our domestic
creed to keep all the dlsngreeables from
poor papa.
Yes said papa, nOdling his head as
he sat In gorgeous Turkish dressing
gown by the window, his slippcred feet
ON an embroidered ottoman, and one white
blCuutI IIbCI lllsCIlCu bStWCCu llC lugGh
Of the book he had been reading all the
morning-"yes, you arc quite right, Miss
Bydexter; Octavin is growing very
pretty"
And could feel myself blushing scarlet,
between my delight Mt receiving com.
piment from papa and my embarrass.
inent ut feeling all the family eyCs-Alss
Bydcxter's inCludGd-turned upon me.
ats u shame she should be shut up
hcrGl" said Miss Bydexter, in her soft
soprano voice, "whCn all the world isget
ting ready TO enjoy itself. Come, OCtavia
what do YOU say to going with me to New
York this winter ?"
"Wiie," said papa, lOItly-somehow the
manner was just as natural TO him MS the
air he hreathed-"why don't we send our
little girl TO New York? Miss Bylcxter's
kind offer ought not to be sighted, and II
really would DO great advantage, social.
" speaking, to the child"
Visions Of broadway seen through the
sunshine oil December day, Of the Finh
Avenue and Central Park, Stewards and
Delmonico's, Of brass bands and lighted
bathrooms, shot dizzily across my brain
for the instant, as q hungry man dreams
Of unlimited food. | felt the burn of the
kindling lightsin my eyes rs looked from
papa to mamma. And then cOmmon.sensc
Tor moment frightened Off her throne
came back to me, and knew how i'm
practicable, not to say impossible, thu
plan was. But Jeanette utter little rap
iurous cry ...
"Oh, Octavia, wouldn't it be nice 1
we only had the money y
"Yes-if" mamma answered, with tha
soit, moonlight sort Of smile she has at
times. But you know, my dear"
But papa would not allow her to finish
the sentence. A deep, mahogany color
ed flush mounted to his forehead, and
saw his brows meet darkly.
UIi Octavia wishes he said, ~ cat
very easily draw a check upon the banl
for her expenses
Mamma brcathed quick and short
Jeanette opened wide her honest blu
eyes. . a.,
"Il would be delightful y said Mis-
aCornelia Bydexter, to whom ono or twt
hundred dollars was no more than the.
would be to the lilies OF the field, VIII
etoil not, neither do they SPIN AM
IL. N.,ay,y synrtV 1unt1 lho