Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-11-16
Calls and Sketehes.
AUNT RHODANTHE'5 MISTAKE.

IN the dining-room together. Bessie is
doing nothing, unless you consider an oc-
casional sigh employment; but Miss Rho
danthe Is knitting vigorously on long
gray stocking. Who is Bessie, and who
is Miss Rhodanthe ? Very different per-
sons you may be sure, or this story would
never have been written. And vet, when
Miss Rhodanthe Woodward was young
and fair, as tradition says that she once
was, she had not been so very unlike her
pretty niece. 1t is hard to believe 1t now,
as you look from the parchment and angles
OF the elder woman to the blushes and
dimples OF the girl. Yet, if you look
closely. you will see that the gray eyes of
the girl are identical in shape and color
with the cold, steely ones of the elder
woman. The features, too, if you trace
them line by line, making all due allow
ance for the shrinkage and hardening of
age. are line for line the same. When
Aunt Rhodanthe's hair was dark and soft
and plentiful, it must have waved over the
same white forehead. If you doubt still,
misled by the difference OF expression,
look at this old-fashioned ivory miniature.
and you will see Bessie's lovely, mischiev-
Gus face, with the dimpled smiles around
the red mouth, and the touch oc pathos in
the gray eyes, and the lovely curves of
cheek and chin and throat And forty
years ago that was Aunt Rhodanthe Who'll
now grim-faced, gray-haired, elderly
woman, with nothing bright, nor fair, nor
winsome about her. Ehea .fugacesi
Now and then Aunt Rhodanthe casts
sharp inqusitive glances at the listless
figure opposite to her. Once or twice she
opens her lips as if to speak, but snaps
them together suddenly again, and the
words remain unuttered.
Bessie" she says at last and Bessie
looks up with start
"Wake up, Bessie" says Aunt Rho
danthe, briskly, land tell me what ails
you"
A faint blush creeps over Bessie's face
as she replies,
Nothing ails me, Aunt Rhodanthe,
What do you mean P'' ri1
Aunt Rhodanthe frowns and clicks her
needles savagely for moment. Then
she speaks agains:
Nothing doesn't make girls cheeks
pale nor her eyes hollow, Miss Bessie.
Nothing doesn't make her sigh when she
thinks nobody hears her, nor set her lips
in defiant fashion if abody asks her
civil question. You might as well tell
me all about it, for shall find out il YOU
don't"
There's nothing to find out, Aunt Rho
danthe," Bessie said little drearily. I've
had rather hard winter, that's all. I've
been teaching, YOU know, since papa lost
his money last fall, and I'm not used to it.
| suppose am little run down"
Ralph Dormer has nothing to do with
/ An
peering suspiciously over her spectacles.
1.-The girls tell me that you have not seen
him since your fathers failure"
Bessie hushes deep scarlet now, and
her eyes flash.
AUNT Rhodanthe, what do you mean P"
she exclaims. "Dr. Dormer was nothing
to me, that should care whether he comes
or not. You have no right to think nor
say such things
Aunt Rhodanthe watches her grimly
for moment. Then her lips relax into
a smile, and she mods her head sagely
two or three times.
"That's right my girl. like your spir-
it. Take 1t that way, cover it up and
tell nobody, and you'll outlive it yet.
Ralph Dormer comes of bad stock-a
bad stock. | never liked him, never.
Your mother was crazy to let 1t go SO
far"
but. Aunt Rbodanthe,p expostulates
Bessie. breathlessly, "mamma didn't let
1t go; there was nothing to go. And as
for covering up'-why, Aunt Rhodanthe,
what makes you say such thingsp No
body ever said such things to me BEFORE"
Time they did," says Aunt Rhodan-
the, gravely. 'See you peak and pine
and dwindle and divine. and never say a
word to shake you back into health Iron
and qunine, that's what you want, men
tai and physical. No sugar coating nor
gelatine covering-the bitterer the better.
That's what you'll get, for I'm going to
take you home with me tomorrow, Bes-
sic, so you might as well go and pack
up.n
Home with Aunt Rhodanthe to the old
homestead where her father was born, but
which Bessie has never seen? Well, it
might have been worse, she thinks. Bet
terP Ah yes it might have been better
once, but never now. 1t might have been
better if Ralph had not failed in his ap-
pointment that one night-the very night
that Bessie knew first that her father was
ruined. 1t might have been better If she
had not written that short little savage
note, breaking off the engagement utter
ly and forever making no explanation,
only nclosing the ring which he had Civ
en- her only two weeks before, and set
ting him free from his plighted word.
Why had she done it? She has wondered
herself sometimes; she wonders vaguely
now. as she folds her dresses mechanical
ly and lays them in her trunk, smoothing
out the wrinkles carefully as she used to
do when her heart was in her wardrobe.
She can hardly recall the events and feel
ings of that evening. First her father had
come home TO dinner. looking sad and
grave, and had called her mother out for
a private conference. Then mamma had
come among them again, with tears in
her eyes, and had told them of the sudden
failure of the bank, by which nearly all of
papa's property was lost. They had all
been very quiet under the news, had
kissed mamma and cried a little quietly.
had been very tender and loving to papa
and to each other, and that was all. fhey
had talked about what they should do, and
somebody had said,
''Bessie Is all right, anyhow OF course
she and Ralph will bo married at once
now. don't suppose he is the kind to
hac oh n,.tf For t.