Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-12-27
CHAPTER II.
MRS. ARDORY's sENsIBILITIEs =.

MRS. ARDORY s SENS1BlLITlES.
Yes, the second chapter will be about
them, too. Mrs. Ardory's sensibilities
were too acute to be disposed of in one
short chapter.
Mrs. Ardory sat, on the very day be-
fore Christmas, at the window, looking
over 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! When
ever unite this pink ribbon, and see
those letters, all my sensibilities are
reused; memory is too much for mo y
Here Mrs. Ardory shed few we'll con-
sidered and appropriate tears. "Ah !!
who can ever kDow-who can ever
know the bitterness I 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 handkerchief, she
proceeded in disjointed and highly
pathetic way:
Schoolmate, roommate, friend, I
shall never see thee more, alas +"
els she dead p asked her sympathiz-
ing friend.
"Worse |" said Mrs. Ardory, looking
out from under melancholy brows, and
speaking in tone that made her
friends flesh creep with terror, horror,
and ever SO many other kindred emo
tons. Worse, a thousand times
worsew Then in an awful whisper,
Ran away from school at seventeen
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 Christmas will
tomorrow be to you, my poor, lost
sheep?"
This was Mrs. Ardory with her friends.
Do you wonder that they said, and truly,
that Mrs. Ardory was woman of feel
ing?
On that same evening Mrs. Ardory
sat in the dining room of her family,
waiting the return of her husband, when
a little ragged girl came to the door.
"Please, Madam" said Bridget; "she
says she must see you"
"Ask her what it wants, Bridget;
and if she is tramp, send her right
away at once. Ny nerves will not bear
any excitement.
"Please, ma'am, she says she is the
child of your old friend that used to be
Laura Bordan. and her mothers sick,
aid ART 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
cob. dear /! what shall do? WHY.
I couldn't have poor Laura here: I'd
die with pity to see her and half-a-
dozen poor children. I couldn't stand
it /! Ny sensibilities are so keen.
Bridget, send the little thing away.
Don't let her come in. Oh what a
dreadful thing to have such tender SEN
sibilities Poor Laura how she must
suffer. Tell her to go to the Secretary
of the Association for the Amelioration
of the Condition of the Destitute. Tell
her 7 would send some money if my
husband were at home. Poor Laura
A beggar !" And Mrs. Ardory wept in
sincere grief for her friend, and in pity
for the poor generally. Old Mr.. Ardory
was so shocked at her grief that he
got up and went out and did not
oVcu ItCuEu W ouPP01, WuACu 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
marriage, and now this sad, sad denoue-
ment-in the street, sick, beggar, alb
solutely beggar. Here Mrs. Ardory
broke down and wept She declared
that she would not be able to sleep a
wink that night. Her sensibilities
were so delicate. The shock of hearing
from poor, dear Laura in that way was
SO rude and sudden. She hoped her
sympathies might never be so severely
taxed again. She couldn't get over it
poor Laura in the street.
And, at bedtime, she couldn't sleep.
She said her sensibilities were absolute
ly shattered. And then, too, her hus-
bands father was out, and she just
bnou tbot ho uould he home after mid |