The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1875-07-01
aanoerson JnteQigenfet,
SENT BY EXPRESS.

SENT BY EXPRESS.
Marian Harlan was alone in the world-her
mother just buried.
She was beautiful, brown-haired girl, with
soft, shy eyes OF violet gray and rosy !irs COM
pressed to firmness beyond her years. For
after all she was scarcely seventeen, aud so
Deacon GRAY vas ta!ijGg her, as she SAT ny the
fire, spreading his huge hands over the Tardy
blaze, and asked:
eBut what are you goin' to do to earn your
bread and butter, child p
aI don't KNOW haven't thought. Mamma
had an uncle in New York, who"
eyes, yes-Pve heard about him be was
mad because your mother didn't marry just ex-
actly To suit him.. wasn't it" 49,,
Marian was silent Deacon Gray waited
few minutes, hoping she would admit him
into her secret meditations; but she did not,
and the Deacon went away home, to tell his
wife that ''the Harlan gal was the very queerest
creature he ever had come across"
In the meanwhile Marian was busy packing
her few scanty things into little carpet-bag,
by the weird, Pickering light of the dying wooo
Ere. ,c
"I will 90 to New York" she said to herself,
setting her small peary teeth firmly together
"Mv mothers uncle shall hear my cause plead
ed through my own lips. Oh, I wish my heart
would not throb so wildly! I am no longer
meek Marian Harlan, am an orphan, all
alone in the world, who must fight lites battles
with her own single hands"
Lower Broadway, at o'clock in the evening
What Babel of crashing wheels, hurrylng hu
manity, and conglomerate noises 1t was! MA
rian Harlan sat in the corner OF an express OF
fee under the glare of gaslight, surrounded by
boxes, and wondered whether people ever crazed
in this perpetual din and tumult. Her dress
was very plain-gray poplin, with 8 shabby,
old-fashioned little straw bonnet tied with black
ribbons, and blue veil, while hex only article
of baggage, the carpet-bag, lay in her lap. She
had sat there two hours, and was very, very
tired.
'Poor little thing!" thought the dark k-haired
Young clerk nearest her, who inhabited sort
of wire cage under circlet Of gaslights. And
then he took up his pen and plunged it into
perfect Atlantic ocean of accounts.
"Mr. Evans"
"Sir."
The dark-haired clerk emerged from his cage
with his pen behind his ear, in obedience to the
beckoning finger of his superior.
'I have noticed that young woman sitting
here for some time-how came she here? :"
Expressed on sir, from Millington, Iowa
arrived this afternoon"
As though poor Marian Harlan we're box
or a paper parcel.
"Who for?"
"Consigned to Walter Harrington, Esq"
"And why hasn't she been called forT
sI sent up to Mr.. Harrington's address to
notify him some time ago; expect an answer
every moment"
every odd," said the gray-haired gentleman
taking up his newspaper.
eyes, sir, rather"
Some three quarters of an hour afterward,
Frank Evans came to the pale girls side with
indiscribable pity in his hazel eyes.
"Miss Harlan, we have sent to MIR. Harrlng-
toms residence"
Marian looked up with feverish red upon
her cheek, and her hands clasped tightly on
the handle of tle faded carpet-bag.
"And we regret to inform you that he sailed
for Europe at twelve o'clock this day"
A sudden blur came over Marian's eyes-she
trembled like q leaf. In all her calculations
she had made no allowance for al exigency
like this.
"Can we do anything further for you z"
questioned the young clerk, politely.
eNothing-no one can do anything now !''
Frank Evans had been turning away, but
something in the piteous tones of her voice ap-
peared to arouse every manly instinct within
him.
ashall send to any other Of your friends ?"
'sI have no friends"
s'Perhaps can have your things sent to some
quiet family hotel?"
Marian opened her little leather purse and
showed him two ten-cent pieces, with smile
that was almost tear.
s'This is all the money I have in the world,
sir p
So young, 50 beautiful and so desolate !
Frank Evans had. been a New Yorker all his
life but he had never met an exactly parallel
case to this. He bit the end of his pen in dire
perplexity.
"But what are you going to do?"
II don't know, sir. Isn't there work house,
or some such place can go to until could
find something to do?"
Hardly. Frank Evans could scarcely help
smiling at poor Marian's simplicity.
'They are putting out the lights and prepar-
ing to close the Office" said Marian, starting
nervously to her feet.
"I must go-somewhere"
"Miss Harlan" said Frank quietly, "my
home is very poor one-I am only five hum
dred dollar clerk-but am sure my mother
will receive you under her roof for a day or two,
if you can trust me-"
sTrust you?" Marian looked at him through
violet eyes obscured in tears 'Oh, sir, I should
be 50 thankfulv'
"How late you are, Frank Here-give me
your overcoat-it is all powdered with snow
and"
But Frank interrupted his bustling cherry
checked little mother, as she stood tip-toe to
take off his wrappings.
'Hush, mother; there is young lady down
stairs"