Daily Kennebec journal., 1884-05-06
1ales aud SkettIifs.
WAIT 4 LITTLE.

A picturesque old house in neglected
garden, a vine -wreathed window. and q
Young girl lying on the low cushioned
seat of its embrasure, hidden from the
room within by . rusty red curtain. She
would have been pretty if she had not
been SO pale and listless. Certainly the
! faint momentary smile which the shy con-
fidence of little gray bird in the wood
bine brought out was charming. The
girl was watching the little creature. She
had sheet of music in her slim fingers.
/ Her eyelids were red, as if she bad been
recently crying. So still was she that the
bird continued to adjust the dried grasses
of its nest without fear The balmy May
wind lifted the tendrils of soft brown hair
but did not otherwise disturb her inactiy-
ity.
For an hour she had sat there-ever
since her uncle, NJ. Bozarth had fallen
asleep upon his sick bed in the adjacent
chamber The girl had not been CRYING
for him-no, she did not love him. Even
| in sickness be was tyrannical, cruel as he
ever had been He kept his fiddle bow
upon the bed to rap her knuckles when
she did not wait upon him quick enough.
She was tired For three nights she had
sat up a greater part of the time. The
doctor told her NJ. Bozarth was going to
die. So she was full of dread and fear, but
not grieved or fearing the bereavement,
although when NJ. Bozarth was going she
would be all alone. She was an orphan,
and for the last tour years he had support
ed her, after fashion, and taught her
music She had beautiful voice-pure
and delicious. She sang when she was
hidden, and sometimes to please herself
in pleasing her landlord, Alan Dunleith.
He was handsome man. He had keen
blue ewes and smile that was very gen.
tie. He seldom spoke to her. but he came
across the garden sometimes OF an even
ing to drink a bottle of wine with Nj. Boz
arth, and listen to his adventures in France
and Italy. They talked about music, the
drama, and the old masters. Nj. BOZarth
was selfish and harsh, but he was no fool.
Two years before he had hired Mulberry
cottage, and he and Alan Dunlei'h had
always agreed very we'll. Only this girl,
Theresa, had been alone. NJ. Bozarth
was awav all day and most of the night.
busy with his musical engagements in tie
city. They kept a maid, whom the girl
would have turned to for society in her
extremity. but she was too cross.
The poor girl saw no kind face but Alan
Dunleith's. She had come to worship
that She dreamed of it at night, waited
from day to day until she saw it, though
the owner seldom gave her more than a
courteous Good evening, Miss Tessie."
But he always remembered to say "gOod
evening" again after she had played and
sang to him, and the smile he had turned
on her seemed kinder. And then she
would watch his stalwart figure going
down the garden, listen as he whistled an
air she had been playing, and wait for the
next visit. No one dreamed of all this ;
perhaps she did not realize it herself; and
it was not at all strange. The little grey
bird was very quiet building its nest, and
Tessie was extremely tired.
Suddenly she realized that she had been
DOING, for there were voices in the cham
Der, and she did not know when her
uncle had awakened, or when Alan Dun
leith had come.
mo, do not know what will become
of her when am gone," M. Bozarth was
saying. al have little to leave. But she
has her voice and her knowledge of music.
She must make her own way"
"A very perilous position for one so
lovely"
perhaps, Mr.. Dunleith; but it is too
late for me to make any provision for her
now She must take her chances the same
as | did"
But she is young girl, and a very
delicate one. Monsieur Bozarth 1t is very
different"
NJ Bozarth made faint, inarticulate
reply.
''Will you trust her to me? would
like to marry her." said Alan Dunleith,
after moment.
"Eh? Oh, yes. But she is so very
young
Il consider her youth but think | un-
derstand her. believe could make her
happy. Then you give your consent?"
Yes, yes" YEARLY.
What more they said Tessie did not
know. There was no lack of lite and en-
wide eyes and flaming cheeks for mo-
ment; then her heart beating in great
shocks, she slipped out of the window,
flung herself upon the turf of the terrace,
and disappeared among the rank shrub
berry of the garden-disappeare from the
view of the house. but not from her own
terrified consciousness.
Alan Dunleith marry her-her?
! She was burning hot to the tips of her
fingers with shame. Then as she read
her aching heart and knew the truth. she
uttered heart rending cry and sank down
uppn the grass, pale and faint. She buried
her face in the moss and violets
81 love him-I would give all the world
to be fit to marry! But he shall never
marry me because he pities me. Iwould
rather kill myself firstr with violence.
Then with pitiful cry
Il will run away. cannot-I will not
see him again ~
And actually the impulsive. morbidly
sensitive und undiscipliDed girl sprang to
her feet. ran into the back hallway.
snatched shawl and hat. and turned her
back on the only home she knew
! 1t was not so hard she had never loved
it. She went rapidly down the green road
until the stage overlook her. when she
sprang aboard with satisfaction. seeing the
chimneys of Mulberry cottage disappear
in the distance.
Tessie had passed about two years in
the city. Beyond almost immediately
I Saptinr a pn.n In hor rpcla tb.t ,L