The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1883-08-23
HER PAINFUL DUTY.

Through the Elusive glitter of the
warm, golden July moonlight, the last
impression that Bertha Demorest re-
ceived was that of tall, graceful fig
ure vanishing through the dusky gloom,
while his goodnight words fingered
pleasantly with her:
Remember, Bertha, if you are not
at the picnic tomorrow / shall not care
fig for the whole affair. Don't forget
that you have promised me that you
will be there" p"
Il am not in love with him." Bertha
said to herself, as, returning TO the par
lor. she sat down in the tender dusk,
letting the curls droop over one slender
hand that supported her head as she
unused and dreamed. ''Of course / am
not in love with him." she thought,
feeling the warm blood flush to her very
temples at the word. Il have only
known him a month. / wonder if he
really cares so much whether or not L
90 to the picnic?"
She was fair little girl with bright,
blonde hair and heavenly blue eyes, and
Mr. Frank Gerome, the handsome young
engineer who had come to Westvale to
attend to putting in the machinery in
the great block of mills recently erect
ed, thought her the loveliest creature he
had ever seen in his life, and particu-
larly this evening, as he went home
ward to the picturesque old farmhouse
where he was temporarily living, and
whose majordomo was Mrs. Cornelia
Crawford.
Cornelia Crawford and Bertha DEM
crest were both women, but there all
analogy ceased. Bertha was seventeen
-Cornelia was forty; Bertha was fresh,
fair and a maiden-Cornelia, faded and
widow.
"a delightful evening, Mr.. Gerome, "
Mrs. Crawford gaily said as he came up
the steps.
Yes" he assented.
And then Mrs. Crawford edged her.
self little to one side.
Won't you sit down and enjoy the
moonlight a little while?n she asked
persuasiyely.
Thanks" he said Il am in a hur-
ry."
And rather dissatisfied with the in
different success of her attempt at So
ciability, Mrs. Crawford turned to an
other of her boarders, VINO was sitting
inside the window.
81 suppose he prefers cigar in his
own room to the society of ladies'" she
remarked.
''But maybe he is in a hurry to go
and see Bertha Demorest. They say he
is making up to her,"
Bertha Demorestr' echoed Mrs.
Crawford scornfully. "Why, she is a
mere child, with yellow hair and great
big blue eyes! Nobody could see any
thing in her to admire
''Well, you know there is no account
ing for taste. What | say is only what
heard, and l have heard that they are
engaged, or next door to il"
II don't believe word of it!'' Mrs.
Crawford said energetically.
THAT is as you please"
But whether or not Mrs. Crawford be-
lieved the rumor, the tidings annoyed
her; and when Mr.. Gerome had gone
out later she went upstairs, ostensibly
in her character of clearinghouse
keeper, to see that Mr.. Gerome was
well supplied with towels and fresh wa
ter, but really to prospect about a lit
tie.
She never looked for the good for
tune that befeI her. She had thought
it just possible that Mr.. Gerome might
have written or received love-letter,
and possibly laid the torn fragments
conveniently in his waste-basket.
But it was not scraps-it was an open
letter-yes, actually an open letter on
the table, the envelope addressed to Mr..
Frank Gerome, and the sheet beginning,
"My dear Frank-my dearest hus-
bandr'
AS if every muscle in her body was
suddenly changed to iron, Mrs. Craw-
ford became straight and rigid in an in
stant.
''Oh, my!' she gasped. Don't let
me Judge my fellow-creatures too rash
ly. Let me look at the signature. Oh,
dear! oh, my gracious! if it actually
isn't Your own loving wife, Julien Oh,
how faint it makes me! To think--to
think he is married man!
''How thankful am | never encour-
aged his sinful attentions! Well, Ber-
tha Demorest will have her own bold
ness io thank for this. | always knew
that girl would come to harm, with her
mouth always on a broad laugh, for
nothing in the world but to show her
teeth, just because they happen 80 be
white and regular-false teeth like as
not.
'Yes, it's my duty to warn that girl
my painful duty; but Cornelia Craw-
ford never yet shrank from duty"
All, if poor little Bertha Demorest's
skin had been less like a rose-petal, her