Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1871-04-01
Gales aud Sketehes.
WILL SHE RIDE OR WALK?

The spring and early summer wore
away. One letter came from Darrell. 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 Tesey wrote his mother, to
say she could not make the promised visit.
Darrell had said nothing in his letter of
coming for her. "And tell Darrer-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. Absence, like a strong light, brings
out hidden detects, and Vesey knew now
that he was man selfish and vain, who
had played with her heart He had helt
it in his hand, weighed and measured i
and her, and had east both aside as worth
less. She thought of it with burning
cheeks.
Among the mountains, in the summer
she gathered strength and life again; fol
both had seemed to fail Perhaps it was
the heat The summer had opened like
| the tropics. With another winter came the
Winslows. If she had dreaded it, if she
had feared for herself, would it have been
strange But the spell was broken. Look
ing back, she wondered.
Outwardly the old intimacy was resumed.
Darrel came and went as he had come and
gone the year before. But to Vesey it was
only shell-a hollow, heartless thing
that never had been friendship, and could
never now be love. Paul, plodding along
day after day in the round of his duties,
saw-as though a great way off-Vesey
and Darrell flying up and down the icy
streets to the tinkle Of silver bells.
One night. Nesey, glowing in crimson,
with white chrysanthemums in her hair,
passed through the hall. The outer door
was open wide Paul stood outside. The
wind, raw and wet with the breath of the
sea caught at her hair-at the silken ruffles
of her dress.
"Oh, is it you? But you are coming in ?'
She little knew how her words tempted
him, as she paused with clasped hands
under the gaslight, and with the warm
bright room beyond.
Il cannot, am waiting for your father.
There is family at the lower end of the
town starv-"
The words choked him. 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 different scene. Only
a 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 dark 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," Nesey said, dreamily.
| couldn't imagine You in gray" he went
on. half to himself '.or in anything SOM
ber, or worn, or poor" He had begun to
study the girl in earnest now. "Yes you
are made for the rarest and best, Nesey;
to shine in satin and diamonds
Satins and diamonds Nesey remem-
bered the man she had left at the door.
He was out in the winter night among the
hungry and naked now, she knew. She
had caught his halt-uttered sentence. And
she was made for satin and diamonds
''ls that all?" she asked wistfully.
"All?N Is not that enough? 1t would
satisfy most women"
But tonight it did not satisfy her
Down at the beginning of the long street
was black, low-browed house, like many
others here, with shop in the lower story,
or, more properly, two, since one window
was occupied by Il matchmaker, and the
other displayed pins, needles, spools of
cotton, and such small wares Above
were two or three rooms with slanting
sides, where deformed girl pitiful OBJ
iect to look at--lived with her mother,
earning enough by sewing to put bread
into their mouths and scanty covering upon
their backs-no more. Nesey 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, roll of
work in her hand. She had to wait a mo-
ment, so she sat and talked with the girl,
who was young like herself, and vet 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 a CLEAN
of pleasure through the girls dark days
1t was poor room, with paper torn
and soiled, and of many patterns, upon
the walls; with the bare boards of the
floor yawnng rising and falling uneasily;
with the dim light struggling through un-
curtained windows that peered from under
the caves like eyes from overhanging
brows. In one of these windows, forlorn
canary in broken cage-a brown little
bird with ruffled, unkempt feathers
chirruped feebly, like moan. A low
voice in continuous murmur fell upon
Neseys ear. 1t seemed to come from the
next room.
''What is that?'
THAT P" The girls pale face grew
bright. "It's the minister, Mr.. Hayes.
He comes and prays with mother. now
she's sick" The light died down again.
The little room became all at once like
Il church, solemn and still, as the low voice
rolled on and on, like n river far away.
The girl laid down her work. Even the
bird forgot its moan.
The voice ceased. She heard his step
upon the stairs. 1t was but second; he
could not have reached the street, when Il
shrek came from the room he had left
The girl sat like one paralyzed. Vesey
threw open the door. \ swift line of light
ran all adown the bed 1t burst into =
flame, in the midst of which the sick
woman struggled. The overturned candle
at her head told the story 1t was an in