Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1874-08-14

complaint. line Two were taking eafHeS
4 ly in the deserted room, when Worthing
/ ton Sydney came from the Office to thei
bench.
1 ''Well, mother,'' he said after bowling t
Effie. And the young girl arose, blushin
! deeply in her embarrassment.
; est down. said Mrs. Sidney, kindly
''Y GU see, do not want place here for
| friend, but I have business here, notwith
standing"
And Effie believed she must be dream
, ing when she was offered the position O
companion to Mrs. Sidney, at liberal sal
airy, and the promise Of European travel
''Can you come to me tomorrow - thu
old lady asked. II shall need your ser
vices in preparing for our travels"
And before the noon hour was over, Ef
fie was driving in Mrs. Sidney's carriage
to her boarding house, to prepare her be-
longings for an early start in the morning
''She is lovely, Worthington,' ~ said Mrs
Sidney to her son, as they drove home
ward, s'and the voyage will do her good
To think of her being in a factory Why
her mother was one of the Morstons OF
Providence"
cam l supposed to be overpowered p
laughed the young man.
s'But really, Worthington, she is Of good
family" said his mother, earnestly. 'sHer
father was Portland Ford. 1 know the
the family. Poverty never appals me, but
1 must confess I shrink from vulgar
blood. Miss Desmond is handsome and
stylish-leoking, but she is no lady. Miss
Ford is a gentlewoman-as the English
say, lady at hearth
Sadie was mortified when she heard to
whom she had been rude, but, after all,
there was consolation. Mr.. Sidney was
not going to Europe with his mother, and
black eyes might look more bewitching If
the soft blue ones were not near. She
knew that she was very handsome, and If
MI. Sidney resented the rudeness to his
mother, there were two years to undo the
impression.
Circumstances came to Sadie's aid. The
uncle who had paid for her education died,
and left her an income, small indeed, but
enough to save her from the necessity of
further work. She took a small house,
and an aunt came to live with her; and
here, with perfect propriety, she received
occasional calls from Mr.. Worthington
Sydney. But the ambition to be rich
which had just filled her heart gave place
soon to deep love for the young manu-
facturer, who never exceeded a gentleman
ly courtesy in his attentions. In vain she
exerted every accomplishment for his ad
miration-playing her choicest music, sing
ing her sweetest songs. In vain she chose
becoming dresses, and decking rare beauty
for his eyes.
Ever before him was the memory of his
mothers words, and involuntarily he
traced the little signs that told of cold
heart and utterly selfish disposition.
But over the water came to him letters
full Of the praises of the gentle companion
who had accompanied his mother.
"You would scarcely know Effie," the
old lady wrote, when she had been year
abroad; ''she has regained health, and
hers is that rare, delicate beauty that I'M
folds some new charm when least expect
ed. She is so modest and retiring that one
must watch closely to see how well educa-
ted and accomplished she is. Imagine my
delight to find she knew French as well as
did, and she has conquered italian in
wonderfully short time. Her music is the
rare. real music that comes from the heart
and the tears often rise in my eyes when
she fancies [ am sleeping, and plays for
hours as only true lover of the divine
art can play"
Sometimes there was a more formal let
ter, signed Etfie Ford, telling that Mrs
Sydney was not well and wrote by her COM
panion's hand. And after the formal in
PRODUCTION the writer would detail the
consciously proving how she saw with an
artists eye the beauties Of scenery she de-
scribed, or took a quiet, humorous view of
passing events.
He would scarcely own it to himself, but
Worthington Sydney watched for the let
tiers from the companion" with deeper
and deeper interest, sending friendly an
swers that told of his gratitude for Effie's
tender care Of his mother and pleasure in
her letters.
Two years passed, and Mrs. Sydney be-
gan to write of homecoming. She was
in Paris with Effie, and wrote to her son
''Do take holiday and come to escort me
home. [ have no friends who are return
ing to America at this time, and + do not
care to travel alone"
Guided that he really needed a little rest
and recreation, and he presented himself
at the hotel in Paris, much sooner than his
mother had dared to hope. She was alone,
when he was announced; but alittle later,
a graceful young lady entered the room,
whom he indeed scarcely recognized as the
fragile girl in deep mourning, who had
hidden him farewell two years before.
The pallor of illness, the shifting color
were gone, and in their place was the glow
of perfect health; the sad eyes were re-
placed by animated ones full of happiness,
and the fragile figure was rounded and
graceful. In her exquisite delicacy of fea-
ture, in the expression of refinement and
intellect, and in the perfect grace of her
manner, she appeared to Worthington to
far surpass the more striking beauty of
Sadie Desmond, who, two years before, had
cast her quiet loneliness into the shade.
Happy days flew by quickly in Paris, and
when Worthington Sydney told his moth
Ell the secret of his love, she opened her
arms to fold Effie there closely, calling her
''dear daughter"
And Sadie, when the bridal party re-
turned to B, knew in her heart that
in her rudeness to the plainly dressed old
| ladv in the factory. she had fnrfeited her