The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-04-11

A TALK.
A STORY BY HARRIET PRESCOTT sPoFFoRD.

and all that, perhaps; but I know the woman
who wears the diamonds-at least I've had them
pointed out to me on her. 1t wouldn't be so bad.
you know. IL he hadn't been living a luxurious
life himself of riotous days and nights, as they
say, till he is completely worn out with his dissi-
patton by this time. Never was anything but
what they call q man about town, anyway. do
pity those Outerbridge girls"
Poor things, it's a Shame, a wicked shame!'
said Mrs. Louie, 'scant anything be done to save
what they have left and keep that out of his
clutchesr
"I don't suppose there can. They adore him,
you know, and believe In him, for all. He is just
the sort of man some women adore. l despise
the sort"
'And so do I. What q despicable wretch! And
such q sacred trust-his own young sisters, ms
dying fathers charge! How could he! On,
Flossy, it seems to ms the world out there Is too
full of wickedness to Notwithstanding must
happen-the way it did to the five cities OF the
plain. I can't he thankful enough that we are
shut in from it here. 1t makes me tremble to
think how superior Francis Is to all that KIND or
thing of that corrupt world. Perhaps he never
sees anything of it-he never mentions such
things, that | remember. I should feel as If the
slime of the serpent had soiled US all II such q
man slept one night beneath the roof here"
well. he isn't likely to come this way"
laughed Flossy. "Your life would have no at
fractions for him. And if he did you would all
be captivated by him. He knows how to win
the heart out Of your body"
"Stop a moment, Flossy. said Laura, VINO was
now sitting up in her hammock, with a white,
set face. l think it right to say to you, TO
Louie, to all the rest. that l know this gentle
man concerning whom such extraordinary state,
ments are made. know him very well. AND
there is not a word of truth In all or them. he
is the noblest, loftiest-"
Deer, dear" said Mrs. Flossy. Didn't tell
| you he could win the heart out of your oodyt
Here's a case in point. What was that-oh, my
| goodness, what was that3 Thunders And there
it is again! You don't sit out under these trees
in q thundergust and tempt Providence-
Tempt Providence to whats" asked Rosee al
though gathering UP her balls.
ITO nothing. so far as / am concerned, for go
in," said Mrs. Venning. II shan't stay out with
thunderbolts bowling about these hills. Ora
cious, what a fash! l should like to live In Cal
ifornia or somewhere where there are no thun-
derstorms; but there you have to have earth
quakes, and I don't know which is worse.
There's nothing true but heaven" she sang,
rushing after her flying silks and woods, ana
h~urrying away, followed by all the others. Fol-
lowed by all the others save Laura. She sat
| there still, careless of rain or wind. 1t the
| lightning chose to thrust its blade down among
| the trees and find her outlet it! 1t would be a
| good days work. For what was this story about
| Kirke Outerbridge that she had just been
obliged TO hear-KIrke Outerbrlage, in whom
the love of her life was bound, although neither
| Rose, nor Louie, nor Virginia, nor Julia, nor
Margaret, knew that she had ever met him.
| How should they, indeed, when it had been set
| tied between the lovers in Florida.
whittier Laura had journey with a friend
| the year before, that not unless his health
was thoroughly regained should love be
spoken of again between them-health seeming
then a far-off thing to Kirke Outerbridge with
his racking cough and aching side, his inheritance
from his gentle, early-dying mother. The storm
same down about poor Laura there, but there
was a worse storm in her heart-a storm OF an
| ger and disgust at the outrage on a mans good
name. of half a doubt. a pang of unwhispered
horror lest any of it might be true
a storm of indignant protest, of inn
| potent wrath, of self-contempt, of passionate
| appeal to love. But at last she rose intuitively
and went in before she was completely dreuched,
| aud except herself, and q vague trem0r now and
then of Louie's in relation to her, nobody there
thought anything more of Kirke Outerhridge or
| his sister. The interest of Mrs. Flossy Ven
ning's next story superseded that in their minds;
and at last she and her stories had gone to-
| gether, and other guests with other Characters
| tics had taken her place; and Mrs. Louie was busy
with her pleasant household cares, and her
care Of other people, aud Laura with the poor,
in whose SORROWS she lost her own-if it really
were a sorrow to love and be beloved, although
unknown to any. And so summer wore into
l 1utumQ, duQ TIC dut1iHn IutO WkuGclt ID COiu
and wild a winter as ever made the coming
| spring seem an impossibility and Q miracle.
A very different place from the lovely hillside
| home was the small city house in the dark,
noisy street, where che young girls kept the
| basement and one floor, and rented the rest to
I dodgers.
That one floor they had certainly made charm
| ing with the remnants of an old s~plendor that
| had once surrounded them-some beautiful tam
| ily portraits of clustered children, some old
i ,Jro pariaa yuh0co yaYv tarnigh was a charm
| books. screens, bits of china, nothing, indeed:
new, but everything suggestive of quiet beauty
and Of real comfort, although within close and
somewhat narrow bounds. "If anyone had told
us that we girls could have been so conteuted on
one floor, with screens and sofa bedsteads, and
dear brother in just a hall chamber, we never
should have believed it," Anna, one of the girls,
was saying to an intimate, in that coy twilight
time which tempts to open expression.
We'll. we shouldn't have been if he hadn't
| such an inventive mind; We owe the whole of
this pretty comfort to him" said Kate. I'VE
should have sold everything at once, and have
trusted to luck for mean new things-just fancy
or cheap furnished rooms. But he said they
would never bring a fraction of their worth to
us, and no matter what happened, we should
not be stripped of the things that had always
been about US, and that makes even
this place seem like home. There never
us since father died and left things so confused.
though brother says if he had lived everything
would have worked out well; but one misfortune
has followed on another ever since, and I'm sure
nobody else in Kirke's health would have had
the courage to do all that he has done. He
has so many ideas. too. Do you know,
he took Helena's old diamond necklace, it
was great. grandmother's, and in great, heavy
silver sittings; she never could have worn
it, Helena couldn't, and we don't go any
where now where any of us could wear dia-
monds; and he raised enough money on it to buy
this. house-he wouldn't positively sell it, be-
cause he says if his schemes work right he'll
have it back again-and he calls the house a gift
from our great grandmother, and says how
happy 1t would make her to know she was pro-
viding a home for us now; but we call it a gift
from our darling brother! He sent us all away
for a month at the seaside, and when we came
back he brought us here, and here were all our
pet things; everything moved, everything done,
every room in the house rented to respectable