The Washington critic., 1885-11-04
BESSIE.

maxwell " son, winch the steady Wnlr
Of 100 sewing machines could not
drown Where the presence feminine
can be found be sure the tongue fem
ininc will be heard. The superlntend-
ent of the room, understanding this,
did not attempt to enforce silence, so
pretty Bessie Lawton and Lizzie Tur-
ner, for whose machine Bessie basted
talked conGdentially in their corner of
the great room, and no one intcrfcrcd,
so long as fingers were busy as well as
tongues.
And this was what Lizzie said, Bcs-
sic's blue eyes being riveted upon the
quilting she was basting into folds:
81 saw her yesterday when ! was
going out to lunch. She was just
stepping into her carriage and Master
Charles himself handing her in. She
looks old, nearly 40 should say, but
they say she Is immensely rich, and
her dress was splendid, so suppose
her money goes against her age"
Did you hear they were to be mar
ricd soony"
BLESS me! Didn't I tell you that?
My brother is clerk in the slationer's
store where the wedding cards are be.
ing printed. They are to be married
in church on the 2ith. Mr.. and Mrs.
Charles Maxwell, and the card of the
brides mother, Mrs. John Potter.
Twelve! Come, we will go for n walk
for lunch hour"
mo, / am tired" Bessie pleaded,
and her friend left her, never needing
the sudden pallor of the sweet, young
face, the dumb agony in the great blue
eyes.
When she was alone Bessie stole
away to the little room where the
cloaks, shawls and hats of the girls
were kept, and there, crouching in a
corner, hidden entirely by huge
waterproof, she tried to think it all
out.
What did il mean? What did Charles
Maxwell mean in the long year he had
tried by every masculine device to win
her love? She had not been unmaid-
Cnly; heart and conscience fully ac-
quilted her. She had given her love,
pure, true and faithful, to the son of
her employer; but he had sought it,
dclicately and persistently, before he
knew that it was given him.
nv gpuhS 6iiib iiph eNhlhS lOl a.
living, had been daintily bred and
thoroughly educated her father hav-
| ing been man drawing a salary suh-
cient 10 give his only child every ad-
vantage. But when he died, and his
wife in few months followed him,
| Bessie had chosen u life of honorable
labor to one of idle dependence upon
wealthy relatives. Yet in the social
gatherings of these relatives, and the
friends of summer days, Bessie was
| still welcome guest and ii was at her
| Uncle Leonard's brown.stone house she
had been introduced to Charles Max
well. After this she met him fire.
| qucntly, and in her simple dress, with
her sweet, pure face, had won marked
attention from him. With the frank
ness that was one of her greatest
charms, the young girl had let her ad-
miTer know that, though she was
Leonard Lawton's neicc, she worked
for living in the dress s-making depart
mcnt of Maxwell & Son.
Then he had made her heart bound
with sudden, grateful joy by telling
her he had seen her leave the store
night after night, but would not join
her for fear of giving her annoyance
by exposing her to the remarks of her
companions. After this, however, she
often found him waiting for her at
some point further from the store,
and always so respectful and courteous
that she was glad of his protection in
her long walk.
But he was going to marry an heiress
on the eth, only week away, so he
had but trifled with her after ALL
Poor little Bessie, crouching among
the shawls and cloalis, felt as if all the
sunshine was gone from her life for
ever--as if her cup of humiliation and
agony was full to oyerilowing.
But the noon hour was over, the girls
coming in or sauntering from resting
| places in the work-room, and the hum
of work commenced again, rs il must,
whatever aching hearts or weary hands
crave rest
Bessie worked with the rest, her feel
ings so numbed by the sudden blow
that she scarcly heard Lizzic's lamcn-
tations over a sudden flood of "order"
work that would keep many of them
in the room until after midnight.
"Well have all day tomorrow If we
can finish these dresses tonight" said
one of the small squad of girls told off
for the extra work Miss Smith says
so. But these must be ready to deliver
in the morning"
Talk! talk talk! Whir! whirl whir.
Bessie folded and bastcd, working
with rapid, mechanical precision; hear
ing the noises of voices and machines,
feeling the heavy, dull beating of her
own heart and the throbs of pain in her
weary head, but speaking no word of
rcpining, eXcusing her pallid face by
the plea of headache,
1t was after II o'clock when the last
stitch was set in the hurried work, and
| the girls ran down the long, dark tlight
OF stairs to plOd home through driz-
cling rain, falling upon the remains of
| Il late snow storm. AS Bessie passed
| down the staircase she saw in the count
ing house her reCrcant lover busy over
some account books. But for the heavy
news she had heard that morning she
would have felt sure that this sudden
spasm OF industry was to furnish an eX-
Cuse for escoring her home at the
unusually late hour, but, If SO, Bessie
felt ii was but an added insult to his
dishonorabc conduct, and hurried on,
hoping he had not heard her step.
She had gone dozen or more blocks
from the store, when, passing church,
she slipped upon treacherous piece Of
ice and twisted her ankle, The sud
den pain made her faint for moment,
and She sat down upon the stoncwort
supporting the railing to recover her
self Beside her, not stones throw
away, II dark, narrow allcyway ran
along the high brick wall of the church
yard, and the girls heart sank with Il
! chill of terror rs she heard "A man !
voice in the alley say;
"Didn't you hear Il step, Tomg'
| "A woman, She's turned off some.
| where, He ain't come vet " was tho