Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-05-23

before the week was out found that for the
first time in his life he had fallen madly in
love with girl he had only intended to
patronize.
Each day he spent with her he felt him
self growing better and happier, and he
grew to have more faith in women, watching
her. He had found truth and purity where
he had least expected to find it; frankness
and innocence in the midst of that corrupt
and worldly legislature, just as we may
sometimes find violets blossoming in the
darkest corners.
| Amber met all his advances timidly and
wonderingly, remembering humbly how
Dallas Graves, back where she used to
live, had pretended to love her in the past,
and had left her on account of her blind
father and her poverty, to marry an heir
ess older than himself even, thereby break
ing not her heart (such women as Amber
do not break their hearts), but breaking
her life up into bits of dull blanks, called
Mondays and Tuesdays and Wednesdays,
ETC., long, loveless. sunless days, that
had no kiss or smile in them for Amber.
Having grown used to being shocked at
home and abroad, she was not startled
very much when one of the Senators told
her (what Leslie had attempted, but never
dared to venture to tell her) that he had
wife living. She was only grieved, and
accepted it as her necessary fate to be dis
appointed.
In spite of her blind father, Leslie
Thorne loved her-in spite of his fellow
senators laughing at him, and calling him
"spooney on the little clerk;" and when he
received her tenderly reproachful note,
asking him why he had so deceived her,
and requesting him to cease his atten-
tons, he loved her more devotedly than
ever
Both went back to their homes when the
session closed in the Spring, he to his ele-
giant leisure, she to long days in musty
office, over her copy-books, at a less lucra-
tive salary than at the Capitol, her past
Winter only a brilliant memory with
cloudy ending.
A green May-day, Dallas Graves loung-
ing drowsily over book of paintings in
the open window-seat of his elegant apart
ments.. Outside the tulips famed bright
ly; the May wind came in heavy with
laburnums.
At the toilet near him, in front of the
big cheval-glass, his wife was making her
after-dinner toilet. Dallas watched her
listlessIy, although he had all these de-
tails by heart.
First, the spot of rouge, softened down by
the white on either cheek; next, the little line
of anthony under each eyelid; then a
diamond pendant fastened under each
thin ear; then that tall ruff and that broad
band of velvet with the diamond clasp to
hide her scraggy neck-how rounded and
lovely those shoulders used to look to him
in his counting days through the deceitful
pufings of white crepe and twlLe then
that little wisp of her own hair, let down
out of crimping-pin and arranged to
make the most of it. What lovely hair he
had supposed she had ! All those glossy
switches and ringlets she was pinning on,
or most of them Che was not quite imbe-
cile), he had thought grew there, instead
of being bought at Parker's.
Here his wife dropped her teeth into the
tumbler with crash, and put aside the
point-lace curtains.
"There goes that everlasting Amber
West again, this scorching day, in her hot
black dress Is it Il e, Dallas, that you
used to wait on her p
Dallas gives great start, and his book
falls from his fingers into the tulip-bed
beneath the window; but he only says
carelessly:
"Who told you that Mary?"
"The CASTOR girls; and more than that,
they said everybody in the city thought
you expected to marry her till you brought
me here"
"Tell the CASTOR girls to mind their
own business p said Dallas, petulantly.
"Oh, you needn't be so savage about it
it does not trouble me any. only thought
it on a par with your usual taste. She
looks forsaken enough, at all events"
Forsaken If there ever was mourn
full word that took you almost down to the
steps of Hades, it is that one word for
saken There is such wall in it of the
selfshness of human kind, the faith
lessness of those who are their brothers
! keepers
Dallas picked up his book again, but he
did not see the pictures; the flushed, tired
face Of little Amber West looked up at h i'm
from every page be turned. She had not
looked toward the house as she passed;
she had loved him as few men get loved
in this lower land, and was trying to. have
him think she did not love him at all. He
had loved this girl but this world croacds
us so, the present moment, the moog, are all