The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1880-10-01
THE GOLD.MAKER.

THE GOLD.MAKER.
MY life was very wearisome drudg-
cry in its earlier years. Now that am
wealthy and prosperous, and famous as
an author, 1 can scarcely recall, without
a little memorial shiver. as it were.
how used to toll alone in that dingy
fourth-story room of mine that over
looked a narrow downtown street,
writing with equal perseverance, and
the same set of often-mended quilts,
story, poem, essay, review-anything,
in short, for which the editors to whom
I sold my work would pay me half, or
even quarter its actual value. Like
the hero of Aldrich's lines:
IS Sad enough was sometimes,
Punched and harassed with vain desires,
ike
There was more excuse, perhaps, for
my yielding to the influence of that
chill, benumbing despair which used to
creep over my energies at certain
hours each day; for, besides being a
woman (and God knows what the words
Uonaa,s'' and "poverty' mean when
they are coupled togetherD Twas also
utterly friendless and alone. And I
think it was this solitude in which I
dwelt that made my heart yearn for
companionship and throb with sympa-
thy toward the pale, interesting girl
who occupied lodgings on the floor be-
low me.
She lived there with her father. she
told me, when spoke to her one even
ing as we met on the stairs. The words
we exchanged then were few and COM
monplace enough; but I liked the girl
immensely, even after that short inter-
view; perhaps because read in that
worn, jaded expression of her face
that. like myself, she worked for her
bread, and worked hard, too; perhaps
because of the truth and honesty and
intelligence that beamed upon me dur
ing those few moments out of her great
brown eyes. However this may be, I
thought often of Esther Dillon through
the weeksthat followed, and longed to
know more concerning her.
One evening an opportunity of doing
SO unexpectedly presented itself; I was
seated before my rickety timetable,
ink-bespattered and uncouth, engaged
upon some chapters of serial story in
which my heroine was e,s'aut from ex-
treme idleness and over-abundant
riches, and spent her mornings on a
crimson velvet lounge, and consumed
French bo,s-bosas, and went to ball or
opera every evening. when suddenly a
gentle knock, sounding upon the out
side of my door, reused me from the
composition in which I was buried.
rose and opened the door, wonder
ing whether the stout, elderly lady
downstairs had made a mistake about
the "collecting-day," or whether some
great htterateur had read my scribblings,
and come to pay me visit of congratu-
lation, or whether
There in the dusk of the outer passage
cleaned the pale, beautiful face OF
Esther Dillon. When, moment later.
she had entered the room, and while
she stood nervously pulling at the
fringe of the dark shawl wrapped about
her shoulders; I noticed that her face
wore an expression of anxiety and
terror, which at once thrilled me to the
heart with q feeling of intense COM
passion.
You are In trouble, exclaimed,
eagerly. "Can / do anything to assist
you?"
The sympathy of voice and manner
which accompanied my words, caused
her brown eyes to seek my own with
look of mingled surprise and gratitude.
Then, suddenly covering her face with
her hands, the young girl burst into q
violent flood of tears,
Her paroxysm of heavy sobs lasted
for several moments, and during its
continuance led her toward chair,
standing beside her when seated.
smoothing gently with my hand the
rich, wavy masses of her soft, chestnut
hair. Presently her beautiful eyes
again sought NY face; this time there
was q look OF entreaty in them, ex-
uuisitely sad and touching.
"You can assist me-" she murmured.
"You can allow me to remain here to-
night. Father has turned me from our
lodgings, and have nowhere else to
60"