The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1876-04-28
Rejected Contribution.

The editor had folded up his exchanges,
just as the level light, glimmering
through his by no means Immaculate
"sanctum" windows, indicated that the
glorious orb of day, somewhat obscured
by fog and metropolitan smoke, was
about to disappear behind, not exactly
the western hills, but what came to the
same thing in city, the western roofs
and chimney tops.
Karl Rubens, the editor of the Weekly
Sinner, was a tall, bright-lOoking man
of thirty years, one of those individuals
whose very face and features indicate
that they are born to conquer destiny.
He had been very successful through
life, but it was because he had de-
manded success with a courageous per-
sisteDcy that would not be denied.
BrOwn-haired, with careless, wavy locks,
dropping low upon his forehead, and
dark brown eyes, verging upon black,
he was not handsome. Yet the eve
rested with pleasure upon his face, and
in his light editorial coat, somewhat
worn on the elbows, and shiny at the
seams, and the velvet cap, tasseled and
braided with gold, he looked every inch
a chivalrOus man. Or, we might phrase
it gentleman" did we not secretly be-
lieve the former title is far the Dobler
and more comprehensive of the two.
AS we said before, Mr.. Rubens had
just finished the perusal of his last ex-
changes, when the door opened softly,
and a beautiful young lady rustled in
a young lady whom he had met a score
of times in the gas-lighted drawing
rooms of Society" whose society he had
worshiped afar of, and whom he un-
consciously associated in his mind with
diamonds, pearly silks, and tulle dra-
peries, lOoped up with hot-house flow
ers.
He started up, coloring, and thrust
ing his scissors behind a pile of papers.
"Miss Ainslie ~
"Am | interrupting you, Mr.. Ru-
bens ?" she asked, softly.
"Interrupting me? Not the least in
the world; in fact, feel very much
honored by-by-please take a chair"
And Karl tipped heap of yet unscis-
sored newspapers off the nearest chair
and drew it eagerly forward. Blanche
Ainslie sat down, her pale blue silk
dress subsiding round her like the bill
lows of a sapphire sea.
Miss Ainslie was very handsome, with
azure eyes, and bright, chestnut thrown
hair, while her complexion, although
rather pale, was clear as ivory, and her
features were as delicate as if she had
been a Greek girl in the days of old
PraXiteles.
While Karl unconsciously noted these
things in his mind, he was marveling
inwardly what lucky chance had pro-
cured him this visit. Did she mean to
invite him to one of the soirees of her
uncle, the rich old broker, or was some
surprise party on the tdpis, too exclu-
sive for the ordinary medium of cards
or scented paper? For Mr.. Rubens
rather prided himself upon the entree he
was beginning to gain within the en-
cbanted portals of the towns society.
Almost at the same moment Blanche
looked up.
"You are wondering what brings me
here ?" she said, half smiling.
Whatever it was, l can but thank
the opportunity" Karl answered, with
prompt gallantry, although he could
feel the tell-tale blood rising to his
cheek.
"And may as well tell you the truth
at once" said Blanche, her voice falter-
ing slightly, and two red spots glowing
out upon her temples. "My Uncle
George failed last week-and we are 60
ing to be very poor"
"Failed p' echoed Karl. "Surely it
CesnnOb DC BOSSAOlG-dhb lGdbb-budb is,
had not heard of it ~
"But it is true, nevertheless Miss
Ainslie said; "and all the world will
know of it but too soon. And, Mr.. Ru-
bens," she added, in a lower and more
hesitating voice, al must do something
for my own support-either teach, sew,
play companion to an invalid lady, or
earn my living in some way not unbe-
fitting gentleman's daughter; and /
have concluded to try and write for the
papers,"
"Indeedm said Karl, not knowing
what else to say.
"Will you give me a chance in the
columns of the Sinner 2" she asked, with
a very evident effort ''I believe l could
write as good stories as some of those
that you publish and pay for"
Mr.. Rubens was sorely puzzled what
to say. How could he tell this pretty
creature sitting there before him, in the
halo of her youth and beauty and high
social position, that she could no more
hope to succeed as a sketch writer than
a man could expect to build a house or
construct steam engine without an
hour of practice or experience? Had
she been an aged, shabby, spectacled old
lady, or a middle-aged female, with cot
ton gloves and high cheek bones, it
would have been easy enough. As it
was, her blue eyes, shining wistfully into
his, seemed to paralyze the very nerves
of his tongue.
81 have got little story here" went
on Blanche. producing neatly-folded
racket, (which I have worked very
hard upon, and-if you would kindly
look at it, and give me your unpreiu-
diced opinion"
Certainly" said Karl, recovering his
self-possession, and bowing as be took
the packet.
'There are some verses, too" said
Blanche, reddening, ''and a little essay
or two, written as spicily as possible.
Shall I come tomorrow and get your
opinion ?''
"By no MEANS" said Mr.. Rubens, po-
litely. II will not trouble you to come
down to this Questionable locality.
If you will allow me to call and see
you@n
''I shall be so much obliged ~ said
Miss Ainslie, eagerly, and Karl knew
that she meant 1t.
Blanche AiBslie went away, leaving
an intangible little scent of ottar of roses
behind her-and the sun slipped down