Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1886-02-24
FOR BESSIE'S SAKE.

How it stormed that day! The rain
was perpendicular at one moment. horl-
zontal the next, at the mercy of the
wind. The streets were swift rivers.
In some places the water poured up
and out of the shallow cutters and COM
pletely submerged the sidewalks. From
the roadways of the great bridge sheer
torrents came rushing down, and the
crowd that had taken refuge in the
bridge entrance could hardly see the
city hall or park. 1t stormed steadily
for an hour; then, in a slight abatement
l came out of the elevated railway stair
case, where I had been waiting, slipped
up my umbrella, and walked briskly
southwark. At one of the east doors
of the post Office suddenly ran against
Gertrude Haskell. Her appearance was
so striking that I exclaimed aloud,
''What in the world!'
She was dressed in thin brown cam
brio, 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 reopened: The rain
beat squarely in her face, and she did
not seem to mind it. Her face, I no.
ticed then, was pinched and wore an
agonized expression. l quickly drew
her under my umbrella and repeated
my exclamation, slightly modified.
"What is the matter. childP"
Her lips moved convulsively. II can't
tell you here" she answered.
knew forthwith that something ter
rible had happened.
l had known Gertrude some seven
years, and no formality was necessary.
had not, however, seen her for two
months and over, so that was by no
means informed as to her present cir
cumstances.
"Where do you live now?" I asked
1.-THE same placep'
''No; not there-up in Harlem.
| can't 90 back now"
thought she spoke wildly.
"Come then" said, I'm 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 ele-
waited railway staircase, whence l had
so lately emerged, dragged her up the
steep steps and through the station to
the train. 1 remember the gateman
looked curiously at us. Gertrude had
such white, drencled appearance.
Twenty minutes later we had reached
my home and the privacy of my own
chamber. Fortunately. I had little
wine, which forced her to drink.
"Now,'' I said, tell me all about
it. The sooner told the sooner /
know whether anything can be done or
| not
Gertrude was now less pale; the wine
had give her temporary strength. She
sighed heavily.
Nothing can be DONE" she said in a
tone of despair. lit is about Bessie. y
Go on, I said to encourage her.
had never seen Bessie; the girl had al
ways lived with an aunt in the West.
But I had heard Gertrude speak
tenderly of this absent younger sister,
and had seen the picture of q pretty,
piquant face set in brown, soft curls.
She seemed to swallow something
then resumed:
II loved her-I think you know this.
1t was the object of my life to work
hard and save my money to establish
a little home, where Bessie could come
to me. I did not believe she was happy
| out there. Aunt Hester was often
harsh. She let the child have no pleas
ure, young society, nothing but hard
work. Bessie was not evil-minded she
was not deceitful by nature. If she
grew 90 it was all Aunt Testers fault,
and she should suffer for it.
Gertrude had begun to tremble.
"Harm has come to Bessie2" / asked
reluctantly. "She is not-dead'"
1T might be better if she were, but l
Il cannot wish she were, and Ger
trude broke into piteous, unrestrained
sObs.
Still your sister, said softly,
when her grief had somewhat expended
| its force.
Gertrude wiped her eyes.
Eyes; always my sister," she repeat