Daily Republican. [volume] ([Wilmington, Del.]) 1874-1890, 1886-03-15

II BERTHA BRRToN.

II have not come to hinder you
go right on, my DEAR" Mrs. Smith
said, in her pompous manner, as she
settled her pOrtly form into the one
easy chair which the little room con,
tanned. r
She took out delicate, lace hand
kerchief and wiped her heated face,
for 1t was July day, and an extremely
hot one, too.
Constance Alvenworth had put heI
room in order, and had begun heI
days work, then had come the inter-
ruption.
1t was a room of tiny proportions,
with u single window; and seeing 1t,
after 1t was arranged for the day, nc
one would have dreamed of its capa.
bilities, for ii was kitchen, and sitting
room, and sleeping room, all combined.
There were few exquisite pictures
on the walls, small and not costly, but
chosen with purpose to give the tired
eyes something grateful and pleasing
to rest upon when raised from work.
One was a cluster of golden hearted
water lilies, so perfect in outline and
color that one could fancy their rich
fragrance floating out from the frame
that held them; then there were roses,
and royal colored pansies and violets,
and ferns, all lovely and refreshing to
look upon in hot day; while Ma
donna looked calmly down as if to in.
spire with pure and holy thoughts.
The CHEEKY crimson lounge in the
corner spread itself out at night for a
bed, and snug, little cabinet in the
corner opposite had an upper dra wer,
utilized as kitchen cupboard, where
a few dishes, and tins and jars held the
household stores; while small parlor
cooking-stove could be called in requi-
sition when occasion demanded.
The floor was covered with neat,
cool mating, there was lace curtain
at the window, looped back grace
fully, and just below it hung cage,
where linnet sung and trilled the
long day through. On the window
sill we're pots of geraniums and hello
trope. The fanciful little tides on the
chairs and lounge were done by Con-
stance when resting, if a change from
one employment to another can be
called rest. However, the work was
mechanical, and called in play the
slender fingers only, without taxing
the wearied brain; for Constance Al
venworth WAS writer, not famous,
not likely to be-still she wrote reada.
BILE little stories that. several noted pub
fishers seemed glad to accept, and the
remuneration, though small, afforded
her living.
To her friends Constance sometime.
quantity remarked that it was no
fame, but bread and butter, for which
she toiled: and the creations of hei
fancy that found their way into almos
every town in the country never car
ried suspicion of the prosiness of the
writer's life.
She wrote nothing improbable, moth
ing but what might have happened
and her pen-pictures of life in III
varied phases were of the passions
that sway the hearts of men ant
women, that have swayed them eve
since life began in the Garden O
Eden.
Love stories? Now, reader mine
don't hold up your hands in pious de
precation when answer-yes. Surely
it cannot be SO long ago that you hav'
forgotten some pleasant passage IL
your own lite-a passage which only
lacked ready pen and an imaginative
brain 10 convert it into veritable low
story, and quite as full of the tende
passion, perhaps, as were those fanci-
full creations of Constance Alvenworti
for that old story will be told just al
long us there live on the earth men an(
women; so, for the sake of all that il
puiest and best in human nature, d.
not condemn as pernicious a chaste
fifty written love story; and in sayinl
this we are pleading only for thos
that are pure in tone and healthful il
their tendencies.
Constance Alvenworth was behint
time with her sketch.
On Monday she had done the sweep
ing and dusling of her room, and
was such tiny nest of place,
needed to be made tidy, and she had
righteous adherence of dirt.
Tuesday it had seemed q duty t
call upon sick friend, and then, witt
two lady callers, who had no intention
of hindering her the least bit, but VIII,
came with the charitable purpose o
learning how she got along-a purpos
which took the form of various imper.
tinent questionable rest of the da,
passed and anxiety caused her a sleep
less night; then, rs a penalty for de
frauding nature of needed rest. tn,
morning found her with a nervou
headache.
So Wednesday proved to be los
day.
Thursday morning she arose early
The morning was clear and bright, tn
sparrows twittered in the old elm tina
spread its great, gnarly arms protect
ingly about her window. Her head
ache had vanished with the darkness
like thing of evil, and she resolve,
to make up for lost time. She hat
gathered her writing materials abou
her, an inspiration was upon her
thoughts came faster than she coult
clothe them with words, and, flushed
with interest in her task, she wa
really making successful effort, wheI
in walked her landlady, Mrs. Smith
and faint sigh came from the hear
of the young authoress at the intrusion
for she knew from past experience tina
her call would be long one, and will
that lady interpreting words and ex
CARNATIONS at random, writing was al
| impossihilitY. On Cnnstance's nerve