The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1885-12-17
For Bessie s Sake.

@Eh OW 1t StOrfneO tDaL uay! u
~ rain was perpendicular at on
49, moment, horizontal the neXt
SSGS at the mercy of the wind. Th
streets were swift rivers. In som
places the water poured up an
out of tile shallow cutters and CON
pletely submerged the sidewalks
From the roadways of the grea
bridge sheer torrents came rushin!
down and the crowd that had takel
refuge in the bridge entrance coul'
hardly see the city hall or park. L
stormed steadily for an hour; then
in a slight abatement 1 came out o
the elevated railway staircase where
1 had been waiting, slipped up my
umbrella and walked brisk Y south
ward. At one of the east doors o
the postoffice suddenly ran against
Gertrude Haskell. Her appearance
was so striking that l exclaimed
aloud:
What in the worldY"
She was dressed in a thin brown
cambric, an ordinary midsummer
costume and wore a shabby black
bonnet. In one gloveless hand she
clasped an open letter evidently
Just received; in the other she held
a dripping red parasol which she
had not yet reopened. The rain
heat squarely in her face and she
did not seem to mind it. Her face
noticed then was pinched and
wore an agonized expression. l
quickly drew her under my um-
breIla and repeated my exclama-
ton, slightly modified.
"What is the matter, childr'
Her lips moved convulsively. 81
can't tell you here" she answered.
l knew forthwith that something
terrible had happened.
l had known Gertrude some sew
en- years and no formality was ne
cessary. l had not, however, seen
her for two months and over, so
that | was BY no means informed
as to her present circumstances.
"Where do you live nowf' L ask
ed. "The same placer
mo; not there-up in Harlem. l
can't 60 back now"
l thought she spoke wildly.
Come then," l said. "Pll let my
own affairs rest. Come home with
me. 1t won't take long. I'm still
in the square"
1 hurried her along back to the
elevated railway staircase, whence |
had so lately emerged, dragged her
up the steep steps and through the
station to the train. l remem Der
The gateman looked curiOusly at us,
Gertrude had such a white, drench-
ed appearance.
Twenty minutes later we had
reached my home and the privacy
of my own chamber. Fortunately,
l had little wine, which l forced
her to drink.
"Now," l said, "tell me all about
it. The sooner told the sooner l
know whether anything can be
done or not"
Gertrude was now less pale; the
wine had given her temporary
strength. She sighed heavily.
"Nothing can be DONE" she said
in q tone of despair. sit is about
Bessie"
$50 on" l said to encourage her
l had never seen Bessie; the giri
had always lived with an aunt in
the west. But 1 had heard Ger.
trude speak tenderly of this absent
younger sister and 1 had seen the
picture of pretty, piquant face set
in brown, soft curls.
She seemed to swallow some
thing, then resumed:
81 loved her-I think you know
this. 1t was the object of my life tc
work hard and save my money to
establish little home where Bessie
could come to me. l did not believt
she was happy out there. Aunt
Hester was often harsh. She le'
the child have no pleasure, nc
young society, nothing but hard
work. Bessie was net evil minded
she was not deceitful by nature. II
she grew so it was all Aunt Hes
ter's fault and she should suffer fol
it."
Gertrude had began to tremble
alarm has come to Bessie?"
asked reluctantly. "She is not
deadr"
cit might be better if she were,
but II cannot wish she were, ,"and
Gertrude broke into piteous, unre-
strained sobs.
"Still your sister," ] said softly
when her grief had somewhat ex-
pended its force.
Gertrude wiped her eyes.
Yes; always my sister" she re
peated. "And 1 must go to her al
once and BRING her back with me
1 must try to help her begin life
anew"
"You know where she is?'
81 shall find her"
She arose then from her seat.
81 have a good deal to attend to,
she said, ''before 1 leave to night
"To night" l ventured. ''In al
the stormY'
STORM said Gertrude lronical
ly. "What else will my life be unit
her wrongs are rightedY'
She left on the 8 o'clock train.
went about with her and tried t.
help her little, though there wa
not much for me to do.
During the next three or four
days l often thought of my absen
friend wondering what she had &C
complished, if anything-if she haC
found her unfortunate sister, an,
how bad matters really were.
On the sixth day I sat writing b,
my window in the sunlight; we wer
having fair weather once agaIT
clear, delicious atmosphere for Au
gust days. The door of my roor
stood slightly ajar and as l sa
writing some one pushed it wild
open and came Though.
Glancing ronnd | gave an eXcla
| nation of pleased surprise: