The interior journal. [volume] (Stanford, Ky.) 1872-1881, 1876-11-10
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TWAS laring MONDAY without; Their
was Pickering freight within and boil
Iii the dissatisfied, moody face Of thu
girl pacing the room with a restlessnes'
which grew upon her as the long min
utes, marked by the bronze clock tick
ing cheeriiy upon the mantlepiece
wore away.
The freight rose and fell, nnt
touched with its ruddy larces th,
softly tinted walls, the pictures, rich il
their Rembrandt colors, the long
windows, with draperies of white ovel
blue. the carpet sea Of white, with ar
endless trail Of violets over it. and
islander with furniture upholstered il
blue damask, little inlsid tables, books
in rich bindings, piece or two o.
cleaning statuary, an open piano
with sheets Of music Uttered over it
CLEANED and glanced upon them all
and upon the tall, supple, moving
figure in their midst.
The face was a pretty one-more
than that indeed in its regular oval,
its small features, big brown eyes. that
had a stormy glow in them now, and
hair of that color which the Oldest
masters loved to paint-red-bronze
arranged high upon the shapely little
head.
A very fair girl, and a very fortu
mite one, as this worlds calculation
20. She was Rose Sherwood, mistress
of Sharswood Hill, young lady with
fortune and a will Of her own, with
an impetuous, generous, faulty nature,
and last, but not least, lover whom
she idolized as little higher than the
angels, and, seeing with love-blinded
eyes, considered little fairer than the
gods. Notwithstanding which, the
manifest ill.temper in which Miss
Sharswood was INDUCING that spark
ling wintry MONDAY was all upon thi:
incompatible lovers account.
A door opened and shut, a steT
sounded without tine room, and Miss
Sharswood stopped, her fingers closing
in a sudden tight clasp, the light OF
eager expectancy upon her face. II
faded even before the opening door dis
closed the conner.
"Oh, you, Rube,' said she indifier
emily. II thought you were like
everybody else-taking advantage o
last nights fall of snow. There is al
most a continuous jingle of distant
BELLS"
Everybody" repeated the gentle
man designated as Rube, with Sigh
smile, as he dropped into chair in thu
full glow of the blaze. "Ah, this il
comfort! observe you are not on
yourself, Rose, and wonder at it.
met little Monty with most doloroui
countenance as l came in. His glitter
ingsturnout was all hollow show,
suspect, with your presence refused.
81 did not choose to Co." answered
Miss Shaswocd, shortly. Then, witt
little constraint under an affection Of
carelessness, "Do you know who are
out today, Rubei"
Everybody, ! imagine. Mont
gomery, the Vances, the Chesneys
Fern and Madge Winter, of course
Miss Dunbar, / believe, and other
I'D infnitm. Each to his taste. FoI
my part, prefer this?'
Basking idolently in the warmth
he was watching her with an inexplica
BILE shadow upon his face, which gave
her an uneasy sensation.
"And-Clement? Where is he ?
The slight shadow on his face grew
more perceptible at that question.
Il have not seen Mr.. Clement Var
gray. Rose, are you waiting for him ?
She lifted her eyes, the fash of sud
den resentment in them.
"What if i should be! II you arr
meaning to take me to task, Rube, you
may spare yourself the pains. l have
the right to wait for him-for any one
choose"
"A perfect right" assented Rube,
otherwise Mr.. Reuben Drexell, coolly.
"Only, my dear Rose, are your sure
that il is wise y
"\yisel" She sat down; she had
been standing until then, the reflex OF
that shadow, as it were, glooming hel
face, visible dreariness dropping oven
her from head TO foot. whether il
be wise, or whether il be the climax Of
folly, it is all one. am waiting for
him. What is more, sent for him.
"You did !"
81 sent for him" she repeated, look
ing straight forward into the grave
eyes fixed upon her, the defiance back
in her manner, and giving infictiou to
her words. Il had the right. 1t is
time there Was an end to all this
dallying. There shall be IN end to il.
"Rosel"
"Does il shock you SO very much
my dear cousini 1t isn't according Il
les coavenances, but then | am not con
yentional. There are women, anC
..aN ana a. La a "a a