The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1883-06-02


ladyllke, or derogatory, in your showing
lovely pieces of silk and lace and velvet to
ladies' and employing girls TO make them up
for them. If they are going to cut you for
that, they may cut me too l am going to
keep your books"
Laura, dearl"
eyes, really. I've been learning all by
myself 1 tried to have Trevor help me, but
he gave me terrible taking to do for such
vulgar wish"
Il don't think mamma can bear it."
Sorry. For she'll have to-"
"She will say | have depraved you"
"Well-poor mamma!-she can't say
you've depraved Trevor"
HE says'-and Teresa's great eyes gloom
ed-"that have injured him irretrievably,
and that when people ask who he is now the
answer comes, oh, his sister keeps shop!
so his little cane, and his little boots, and
his big manners, are OF no use to him. Per
haps it will drive him into doing something
useful"
well it's too bad. He used to be so sweet
fellow. But can't let you do this, Laura.
You-you are too pretty"
Laura shook her curly head; 1t certainly
was pretty LAS if that was any argument
when Teresa Eversley uses it." And she
pulled her sister to the mirror and pointed
silently. But Tara turned away. The tall
and stately shape, wrapped in its sombre dra-
peries; the faultless face dark and clear, with
shadowy eyes; the black and silken locks Of
hair-they seemed to belong to another per-
son, and not to the one whom Harold Van
Duysen had looked on with eyes of tender
ness. She turned away, a bitterness of soul
suffusing her eyes with deeper shadow. If
Harold Van Duysen's love had been so slight
thing as to be unable to bear the blow of
her having gone to work-if this were work
it was as well she knew it early. There
was gulf between them then, in their least
emotion, one never to be crossed and the
sooner she let the place that he had filled
become void, the better.
But she did not suffer Laura to take charge
Of the books. 81 can't see why" Laura
urged, pouting her pretty lips. "If you
don't let me, it only shows that you don't
believe what you say, and that you think
work is degrading, and won't let me be de-
graded"
ut is not that at all 4" said Teresa. ct is he
cause you are her own daughter, and wheth
er think it right on her part or not don't
want to pain mamma so much as l know it
will pain her And then she would really be
too lonesome at home without you"
So the months wore away, and Teresa sent
her forewoman to Paris for fabrics and fash
ions, and began her third year, feeling a new
interest in her business which was taking an
artistic character in her mind and giving
her, so far as successful an artists satisfac-
ton.
Trevor, meanwhile still kept his place in
the counting-room, more from the good ma
ture of the employer than because he filled
any requirement. cts abominable" he
said to his mother, that taking the place /
could in society, / should be hampered in
this way by Taras low-bred tastes and by the
want of Uncle Trevors money. When | see
the other fellows with their drags and tally
hos having the freedom of their clubs with
their opera-boxes; marrying the daughters of
millionaires-by George! it's enough to make
fellow take his own life"
And this awful threat overwhelmed Mrs.
Eversley who wrung her hands, and cried.
and begged her darling to remember he was
her only son, his fathers image, all the ioy
she had, the hope of her existence, and to
spare her to spare her to spare her! And
her darling answered, Good gracious, moth
er! Do have a little sense"
1t was surely desirable that his mother
should have some sense, for Trevor had hard
y any himself. Nor did he seem to know
how to find any pleasure except in rich
clothes and behind housekeeping horse
Il can't take You to drive, Laura, 5" he said
''for the fellows will ask what pretty girl it
IS, and when they hear they will say. oh
yes, the sister who keeps the shopp" He
spent the whole of his salary on his pleas
ures. The whole of it? Much more than
his salary, it seemed to Teresa, who looked
turtively at his goings and comings, and
realized, with her already better knowledge
VI lHO WOIiu, Wilht sOlut vi lueSS pleasures
must cost. Was he gambling in a quiet
way2 Had he begged of his mother her lit
tie revenue? Had Uncle Trevor suddenly
opened his heart and filled the young mans
purse2 That purse was evidently full. She
began to feel vague fear of she knew not
what. She knew what very soon.
Uncle Trevor waited upon her one morn
ing in her private room, and sat down with
his hat on. Taking from his pocket large
wallet he opened it with deliberation. ran
over its contents, and handed her, without a
word, bit of paper 1t was note for a
large sum, signed by T. Eversley, which was
upon the market and had been presented to
him for payment. That told the whole
story. 1t was a forgery-a cunning forgery
for it was the name of both uncle and sis
ter, and both names carried weight Her
heart beat so heavily against her side it
seemed impossible that il should beat again.
Her color fell; she could not lift her eyes
For him to ruin them all!
"Well?" her uncle said in his hard voice.
She still held the bit of paper, held it so
tightly that her fingers were white and her
nails blue. What was she to do? Her
thoughts ran swiftly as lightning runs. To
pay this note would ruin her. close up the
business return her to the tyranny of her
step-mother destroy all the hope that she and
Laura had had of independence, put them
back into their old slavery of waiting for
dead mans Shoes But not to pay it! To let
another soul beside herself know of the dis
grace of her fathers son; to let the miserable
boy suffer any more agony than the self
knowledge of his base act to let his poor
mother suffer such a shock, such shame,
such misery! 1t was all i'll second "Well?''
she said, her heart gathering its strength
again, perhaps l don't understand. Why
did you bring me my note? Have you bought
it? You need not have done that. Uncle
Trevor. 1t was very kind of you, but l am
good for it. This is day too early, you
see, and it's not very business-like to pay
your notes before the last day of grace; but,
SO long as you're here, l may as well take it
up"
"Do you mean to say" said the old man,
in a slow and terrible way, that this is your
note?'
Certainly I mean to say it," she answered