The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1885-04-18

| back lustrous reflections from still heavy
folds. There were noble pictures on the
| walls; here ana there a statue cleaned
from niche pedestal; mantel was bank
| Of Marechal Neil roses another bedded with
1 lilies of the-valley. On tripod under bracket
light was a wide porcelain bowl, mantllng, as
with wine fit for the gods. with royal red Jacque
/ minots. One line of the octagon was sunken in
spacious bay window giving upon piazza
! overlooking the lawn, the town and the distant
/ river. In this sat five or six schoolgirl to
whom the chamber concert was novel delight;
Clustering shyly together upon ottomans and
4 cushions, little apart from the older guests,
they had iperhaps) unwittingly fallen into a
picturesque group. All were clad in white,
most of them in soft WOODEN fabric that lent
itself kindly to the curves Of the plant figures
Still, with the expression of clinging together
and resting in each others sympathizing pres
ence, they hearkened to the music with bowed
heads, motlonless as the statues in other re-
cesses.
AS still and rapt had been the attitude Of the
| girl who sat withdrawn far enough from the
cluster to include it as part of her accom-
| plished dream. The sweep OF a portiere gave
| the deep shadow in which she rested and drank
| her fill of beauty. Within it, her eyes shone
| starrily; her face was incandescent whteness
| that pulsed like northern lights Her companion
| had turned to her. with an amused smile his
| lips apart for the light answer he would have
| tossed to child. Countenance and purpose
changed with what he saw.
| An hour before. a young woman wearing a
badly-ftting country made gown of cream
| colored nuns yelling" and baggy gloves to
| match it, stood by Miss MARI under the chande-
| lier in the great drawing room.
| The graceful chatelaine named her to each ar
| rival MY friend Miss Wayne from Georgia.
and after one critical stare each new arrival de-
! cided that she was not worth a second. Her hair
! was brown, and profuse, and dry brushed
away from a thin face and bound in close knot
| at the back of the neck. the head fine,
albeit somewhat too full in the region OF ideali-
ty; but second or third stare would have been
needed to establish this. In complexion she was
| of dusky pallor; the gray eyes were partially
hidden by dropping lids and, except when she
was directly addressed, seem to study the bunch
| of crimson roses presented by her hostess with
the amiable intent OF lighting UP the half tints
Of the picture The outlines of form and limbs
had fiaccid angularity, which stood with
New Highlander for sickly immaturity.
| Her manner was not awkward, but it was i'll
| assured, testifyng want of familiarity with
| scene, or company, or both. Her sentences were
| so few that hardly any one had the opportunity
to discover that her voice was mellow, sweet;
| its intonatons varied and unconventional
Most adverse criticism is superficial, the pessi-
mist assuming as premise that subso blowing
never pays in sterile soil. To the cursory OBJ
| server the only remarkable thing about Miss
Wayne, from Georgia, was her Christian name.
| 'Orpah! Did you ever hear it beforeg" Miss
| MARI had said to her friend Tom Wiltsc, the day
her visitor came. 90 forgot that you have
never read the Biblel But you must have no.
| ticed the name in the Introductory rectative to
! 'entreat me not to leave thee-and Orpah kissed
| her mother in-law,' a singular circumstance in
itself. There was Ruth Wayne Orpahs twin
sister, but she died young" From the glimpse
/ have had of her should not put this one on
| the superannuated list"
| Tom Wiltses voice was what singing people
call, "a light tenor" and none better suits "a
society man. for conversational purposes. In tone
! it was always subdued, his enunciation was never
| hurried but pure and distinct. 1t struck across
1 ak. ol~,.I -
| terlocutor as a flute note between bell-strokes
| Miss Mari had purged her attire and ideas from
| provincialsm. The high nasal timbre of the
voice of the latitude she had not
she was happily ignorant. 1t was perceptible
| in the laugh that answered the CLEAN of Toms
brown eyes He is just eighteen, and doesn't
remember her baby sister. met Mrs. Wayne
with this, her only daughter at Asheville last
winter; found out that she was school friend
| of my mother and we became quite intimate.
| She is genuine lady, but widow and poor
beyond your ability to imagine. don't believe
| she has carpet or curtain in her house which
has been in the Wayne family (of course she
married her first cousin1 which has been ten
anted by Waynes ever since the ark coilded
| with Mount Ararat. There are three sons liv-
able age during the war; They are trying to
| scrape living out of the very much patrmonial
acres The mother fitted them herself for the
college, to which they never could afford to go,
|
lieve pited the girl at first as fellow burden
bearer, having been cursed with a ridiculous
| Bible name myself. Afterwards l was in
terested n in studying . her She he, was to
mentally and absurdly.. with a pond,
lily bnd l saw once that 'asad 'pokeN its head
! through the leathery scum of stagnant pool
| 1t looked so brave, yet so helpless. 1t had no
business to grow in such place, and the horrid,
ropy stuff clinging to it would probably keep it
| from opening. But it was we'll formed bud,
with the most pathetic pink and white rack on
one side, to let know the lily was really
| there"
The slight lifting of Mr. Wiltses brows de-
noted well.bred surprise and flattery-as tenn
| perate
81 beg your pardon for interrupting you to re-
mark upon the aptness of rhe pretty conceit.
But you so seldom drop into poetry, you know y
| THAT am weak enough to be immensely
| pleased with myself when do. l believe it was
out of gratitude to the one who suggested this
drop that invited her to visit me in June, when
| she would see the loveiest of New England viii
when Mrs. Waynes letter came to say the
child would be with me at the APP
pointed time, and | felt like the
basest of hypocrites when Orpah told me this
| afternoon (which she called evening" by the
way, that she had thought and dreamed of the
| visit all winter. / have no doubt they have
pinched themselves cruelty to afford her the
| ''outing."
She unpacked her trunk before she had been
| insbhe house an hour to show me her wardrobe,
and asked me, in such pretty, happy futter, if
her gowns, and scraps of old lace, and the fichus
hemstitched by mammals fingers, and the cash
mere wrapper mamma had embroidered and
made up according to ante beum fashion
! opening in front to show an embroidered petit
| coat, you know-woud do to wear in Darbury2
| 1t would have been funny if it hadn't made my
! heart ache. For she was so artiessly vain of the
poor little. Anticipated outfit! Event she were
not, they are so proud that wouldn't dare offer
to replenish' her wardrobe, dearly as should
| enjoy doing it. The Darbury sisterhood are
provided with material for ten days tattle.
am resolved on one thing. She shall have one
generous draught of happiness in her starved
life!
''She is like famished bee turned loose in
buckwheat field in my library. Her eyes wild
n. 4