Whig and tribune. [volume] (Jackson, Tenn.) 1870-1877, 1876-04-22
TIE FORTUNE TEI.LRR.

Z
neither was the gentleman, Senor Espa-
mol (, who taught the guitar. The whole
city was alarmed by am account. of the
my steriOus disappearance OF beautiful
belle and hard working gentlemanly
young foreigner. However, when some
one had discovered that the last gave les
sons TO the first, an Inference WAS drawn
by some cool locker on.
MAY they not have gone together."
The mother ut once drove the sianderer
from her presence, preferrlng the idea
that her NiOlette was murdered. How
ever, before long penitent letter ali
bleltOd with tears, reached the poor old
lady, all alone in her Fifth Avenue man
sion.
Violette was married to Senior FspanOl.
The more one loves person the more fu
riOus does amy deception on her part
make one. \ less loving mother might
have forgiven. Stung 20 madness, this
one wrote a Terrible letter to the foolish
girl who had 50 hurt her.
The husband, a hot SpnIiartl, read it.
1t insulted him, aud he forbade his wife
ever To see her agai0. 70 do him justice
love, and no mercenary motive, had led
him on 10 elope with his pretty heiresS.
SO the gulf was fixed between the
only two Of the same blood who lived on
earth, and Senor ESpanOl began 10 give
lessons or the guitar for two instead OF
cue. Then for three, then for four, then
/ for five III he had lived little longer
il would have been for six. But the day
! the fourth child was born a countryman
who mistook him for rival stabbed him
\ In the back. lie apOlogized at length the
next minute, but the poor victim did not
! live To hear him through, but died trying
TO express the fact that the gentleman
was perfectly eXcusable.
And so ViOlette, who would have been
/ hnr aff.-tt had
he been less jealous, was left widow
with four babies, no money, and no ac-
eOmplishment sufficiently cultivated to
earn n living by. OF course she took in
sewing, and Of course day came when
there was very small prospectof supper,
and not even q dream of breakfast.
Not penny in the house, not a loaf of
bread in the closet, not dollars worth
of work to be got anywhere, what was
she to do? The poor little woman walked
up and down and cried. That did not
help her. She looked over the relies of
the past. They were pretty pieces OF
jewclry, worth nothing. Valuable things
had ali been sold long ago. She glanced
out of the window. A woman with a
very large brand new basket and no
shoes went begging from door to door.
The basket was worth two dollars and
Il half, the shoes could have been bought
for two. This singular circumstance
proved upon her mind. She began to
| take an interest in the ways and manners
Of beggars, as the awful expectation OF
\ beeonai-g one began to haunt her.
- Juld drown myself she said, "bnt
/ | could not very well drown four chill
tlren, like litter of puppies. -
| Then leaning her chin on her hands,
she watched from her lofty window an
/ other woman with a handkerchief over
/ her head, going from door to door.
Was she begging? 1t seemed not;
/ Once or twice she entered and stayed
/ some time. At last she saw her Mt her
own door, and heard her going from
room TO room. There was knock at the
door. She opened it, and the dark hair
under the yellow silk handkerchief, the
big black eyes, the rich complexion, were
I there,
'well - she asked, inquiringly.
''Let me tell your fortune, lady. on
ly charge twenty-five cents" said the
| woman.
my fortune is told, since l have not
twenty-five cents i'm the wOrld." said vi
olette.
The woman turned away.
"Stop a moment,' said ViC>9tte. "rell
me one thing: in this age do people pay
you TO tell their fortunes ?"
mo age is too old, said the woman,
To whom the world presented but one
idea. II just told an old lady's fortune
below. II was in the cards that she was
to have husband, tOo-her fourth. She
gave me u dollar. Look - She opened
II make money, l do" said she. "I'm
a gypsy. I'm seventh child. l see the
future. III take any little bit of jeweiry
if you haven't any money. Have your
fortune told?'' But Yiolette shock her
head aud closed the door.
Il cannot steal, and TO beg | am ashlm-
ed,' said she To herself. after il is
dark tonight I'll go out and tell for
| tunes"
Then she took two Hat Irons to the
junk shop, bought loaf OF bred and a
pint of milk, and fed her four children
she for whom nothing had once been
dainty enough, and who had once ridden
in her OWN carriage.
She put the children to bed and left the
key with 4 neighbor in case of fr ii
dread that haunts those many-StOried
houses like 4 ghost-and then, disguised
in veil, hood and shawl, went forth on
her errand. Ii was a crazy dream. She
had not courage to attempt fortune tell
ing. Ii was worse than begging. She
wandered along the streets, leaving the
ill-smelllng ones behind her, and comm g
ut last TO the pure, sweet homes of lux
ury. In the end she stood before heI
mothers windows There WAS IA light ia
luS bdStluSut anu NlltONHu lhS ltNC NAA
tains she saw table spread, and the
shadow of a figure she knew to be heI
mothers on the curtain, and there, draw
ing dow n the shade, was Martha, who
had nursed her when child.
Tears filed her eyes. 1t was Para
disc which she never hopei 10 regain
Had not her mother written:
"a curse on you. Never ditrken my
doors more, unless yOu wish to hear m'
utter il.
But here at least she had OF tile terror
of strangers upon her-she could beg ol
tell fortunes. She would tell fortunes
D Martha was superstitiOus, and alway
had dreams of matrimOny, and of tn
coming back of "a lover who had gone L
sea when she was in her teens, aid ha,
never been heard of since.
, She crept upto the window and tappe,
on the panes. In 4 moment Martha open
e ed the door.
Q The hooded figure h1w near her.
''Iet me tell your fortune?" she said
Bother said Martha. "Pm pas
" fortuncs.''
''What?" said Violette. ''Whh love
gone to sea?'