The weekly Shasta courier., 1873-01-25
CHAPTER ii.
MRS. ARDoRY's sENsIBILIrIEs.

MRS. ARDoRY's sENsIBILIrIEs.
Mrs. Ardory's sensibilities were too acute
to be disposed of in one short chapter
Mrs. Ardory sat, on the very day before
Christmas, at the window, looking over a
perfumed package of old letters, and talking
in her tragic way to friend who sat by
her. ,
Memories" whispered she in tone of
fathomless sadness. Memories. my dear
sad, sad memories-that stir my heart to
the very bottom Whenever | unite this
pink ribbon, and see these letters. all my
sensibiities are reused: memory is too much
for mel" Here Mrs. Ardory shed few
wellconsidered and appropriate tears. "Ah!
who can ever know-who can ever know the
bitterness have suffered?" Then, after an
interval of choking emotion, in which Mrs.
Ardory's eyes-and for that matter, her
nose, also-were buried in her lace handker-
chief, she proceeded, in a disjointed and fine
ly-pathetic way.
" Schoolmate, roommate, friend, shall
never see the more, alas !"
" Is she dead? Z" asked her sympathizing
friend.
"Worse! said Mrs. Ardory, looking out
from melancholy brows, and speaking in a
tone that made her friends flesh creep with
terror, horror, and even so many
other kindred emotions, Worse! thou
sand times worse!" Then, in an awful
whisper, /" Ran away from school at seven
teen-worthless fellow-married him, lost
all social standing and all her friends. Oh
my poor Laura, where, where are you to-day ?
What kind of a Christmas will tomorrow
be to you, poor, lost sheep?" "TCBs II
This was Mrs. Ardory with her friends.
Do you wonder that they said, and truly,
that Mrs. Ardory was woman of feeling
On that same evening, Mrs. Ardory sat
in the dining-room Of her family, waiting the
return Of her husband, when little ragged
girl came to the door. .
PLEASE, madam" said Bridget, she says
she must see you"
ASK her what she wants, Bridget; and
if she is tramp, send iiier right away at
once. My nerves will not bear any excite
ment." .-...
Please, ma'am, she says she is the child
of your old friend that used to be Laura
Bordan. and her mothers sick, and amt got
no home, and sends to know if You won't
come and take her into your house for the
night. She's turned into the street by the
landlord, and she's got FIVE children" = y
$" On, dear! what shall 1 do? Why.
couldn't have poor Laura here !; I'd die with
pity to see her and halfa-dozen poor chill
dren. couldn't stand it! My sensibilities
are so keenl Bridget, send the little thing
away. Don't let her come in. Oh! what a
dreadful thing it is to have such sensibili
ties! Poor Laura! how she must suffer
Tell her to go the Secretary of the Associa-
ton for the Amelioration of the Condition
Of the Destitute. Tell her i would send her
some money If my husband were at home.
Poor Laura A beggarr' And Mrs. Ardory
wept in sincere grief for her friend. and in
pity fol-. the poor generally. Old Mr.. Ardory
was so shocked at her grief, that be got up
and went out, and did not even return to
supper, which was served few minutes
later, when Mrs. Ardory's husband came in.
To her husband that worthy lady talked
most pathetically about her old friend, her
beauty, her intellect, and her unhappy mar
riage, and now this sad, sad denouement-
in the street sick, a beggar, absolutely beg
gar. Here Mrs. Ardory broke down and
wept. She declared that she would not be
able to sleep wink that night. Her sensi-
bilities were so delicate. The shock Of hear
ing poor, dear Laura in that way was SO
rude and sudden She hoped her sympa-
thies might never be. so severely taxed again.
She couldn't get over il poor Laura ii the
street ~s - ~ sfst-AiFi -t8AEs@ss
e And, at bedtime she couldn't sleep. She
said her sepsibilities were absolutely shat
tered. And then. too, her husbands father
was out, and she just Knew that he would
be home after midnight. and in a state that
would shock her more than.evers 1t seemed
that everything had combined to kill her.