Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1876-07-29
THE BELLE.
A Watering Place Story.

upon the shady corner OF a watering
place hotel piazza killing time until the
dinner hour.
"Let us make BELLE" suggested
Arthur Lindsey. Let us take some
moderate girl and idolize her, one and
all OF us. Not ridiculously, but just
enough to turn her hea | and have oil
the other dear creatures dying Of jeal.
ousy."
Two days later a party arrived al
the hotel who were registered az
"Mr. Wolf, Mrs. Wolf, and Miss
Wolf, of O." and on the same
afternoon Lindsey announced. tri-
umphantly: "I've found the girl. No;
don't ask me what she's like. Nothing
startling, promise you, Just a pass
able sort of a ladylika nobody. The raw
material, that's all; and that's what we
want. A mighty pretty little foot she
had, though, peeping from under her
waterproof cloak. But plain, unmistak-
ably plain and unpretending, assure
you. Just the nondescript sort of thing
we require for our made BELLE"
In the inviting drawing room Miss
Irene Wolf made her debut, clinging
rather closely to the side of her mother
until the music struck up. Tho dance
began. The young and shy stranger
found herself introduced to q number Of
agreeable young men. Every one
seemed pleased with her. Everything
she said, everything she did, proved to
be just the happy word of the moment
or the. happy act. 1t has been such q
delightful evening"" she said to her
mother, when, after midnight, she still
fingered to talk over the novel event.
IL was silly girl to dread the begin
ming so much. How kind every one
isl"
As the season advanced, the triumphs
of the made belle lost none OF their bril-
liancy. Her success began to reflect
credit upon her makers. Every day she
seemed more lovely, every day more
worthy of preference. For is there q
cosmetic like praise? Is there tonic
like smiles
Irene Wolf, in her midsummer expe-
riencc, thought that watering place life
was an episode of paradise. But the
serpent always crawls into Eden. Aud
in Irene's paradise the intruder had, as
in Raphael's picture, a woman's face.
Miss Hammond thought it her duty to
contde to Miss Wolf . secret that had
been intrusted ~ Dick Wilhurst as
something which ne considered "too
good to keep"
Miss Hammond performed her self
imposed duty without trepidation. If
in the rivalry OF the season she had al.
lowed herself to feel bitterness, and if
malice lay in her motive, she was not re-
warded by the effect upon her victim of
her astounding revelation. In listening
to the humiliating tale, given in strict
confidence and without suppression of
any stinging detail, Irene remained
calm, offering no interruption or ex-
clamation. Her heart, indeed, beat vio-
lently, her color went and came. When
the whole story was ended she pondered
q minute, and said:
do you believe this, Miss n m
mond I hardly can. l think these
gentlemen-thesef friends Of yours-are
too we'll bred to have placed a girl, an
unoffending stranger. in such all igno-
minious position. Mol Do not trouble
yourself about this story. I feel sure
these young men have better hearts.
But, oh, the storm that swept over
that barred bit of palpitating mechanism,
the woman's heart, in the darkness OF
the night The pain, the tantalizing
torment, the bewildering doubt. Gould
it be true Let tho careful memory,
the calm Judgment, take up the facts.
Alas, the story was not without its cor
roborating proofs
The first night of anguish that sweeps
across tho pillow of a young girl robs
it forever Of oil the white roses Of which
girls pillows are made. Thenceforth the
softest is but ruffled linen on which the
head rests.
In the morning Ireno awoke-for at
dawn she caught ono miserable half
hours sleep-awoke, for the first morn
ing of her life, upon q fat, stale, un-
profitable world.
belle in fixing her blonde hair at the
glasss
The frst thought of tho child had
been this: "Oh, how wish could
tell mother |" but she reasoned with
herself: "No; it is better I should
bear it myself Aud father, dear
father, how he would resent this cruelty!
how much he loves bis poor little girl |!
he must never, never, never know"
The evening after Miss Hammond's
dutiful act Irene was beautiful-really
beautiful for the first and, perhaps, last
time in her life. She came down into
the drawing room array. d in an excel
lent Paris dress for her mother, whose
maternal instinct had been aroused to
the perception that Irene's costumes
were not in the style of those worn by
her companions, had purchased for hor
darling at an immoderate cost from one
of those fashionable modistes who fol-
low in the wake of the summer faring
gay world the very last importation of
draperied grace.
Irene came down into the drawing
room attired like q little princess; but
it was not that which made every eye
discover she was beauty at last. 1t
was the hectic rose leaf on her cheek,
the scarlet of her lips, the violet shad-
ow about her eyes. the mystical shadow
upon young eyelids that grief has at last