Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1888-01-18

QUICK IetL- Iney Wore JUST passing MR.
Ellingsworth's house, and father and daugh-
ter stood in the doorway No doubt Mr..
EIlingsworth had just come homo to tea. He
held his tall hat in his hand, while he waited
with his beautiful daughter to enjoy the soft
spring mildness. Jane Graves could see in
behind them. How could they bear to stay
outsidei She saw a white spread tea table glis-
tening with silver and rare china, soft tinted
carpets and pictures in rich gilded frames,
far prettier, she was sure, than anything
nature had to show. The girls face, as she
stood resting her white hand ON her fathers
shoulder, was as calm as the twilight itself.
"How has she deserved it all more than II
She was never tired in her life, and l never
lie down at night but my hands and feet
ache. See what she gets for being idle; see
what get for my ten hours work, every day
since was a child"
"Weve known each other pretty long, Jen-
ME, and-and"-he had pulled the grass all
all to pieces-"and spose you know how I've
Il mean how I've felt. l am doing n little
better now.n The young mans eyes bright
ened. ave got little money left me, and
you know I'm just made second hand"
"What is that TO me, TommieF she said,
impatiently Her woman's soul was longing
for the beautiful life of the rich, whose house
she was passing, and she felt, too, the admir-
ing glance Mr.. Ellingsworth had given to
her graceful figure. Why was this awkward
boy by her side to spoil the effectl
Tommie Bowler WINGED, but ducking his
round head to avoid the shsrp look he feared
was in the beautiful eyes, he vent on dog
gedly.
~ s'posed we'd been agoing together quite
a while, Jennie, and was goin' to ask you
when you was willm' to be married"
"Married-to your
All, Tommie Bowler, what were you think
ing of to want to marry girl who had such
a tone as that for youf
Tears OF shame started into his Dyes. 81
amt so low; never thought but What you
would before"
She gave him u lcok half curious and half
pitiful. He might as well have cried for the
moon. Could it be the lad thought that just
because she was pretty she could make his
home happy for hLm-hisi
"I'm not going to have hand at making
another poor mans home. People like us
had better be single; there's only half the
trouble that way, Tommie."
The broad shouldered young man, who did
not know what was good for him, fell back
from the woman his heart hungered for as if
he was shot. And she walked on, with hard
ly another thought for the foolish lover who
imagined they two could be happy together.
Why couldn't she be richl They had al
ways told her she was beautiful If she only
had a chance. They say men are fools over
pretty women, and that is the only hope a
woman has of winning her way. If she only
had chance.
A delicate gray mist foated over the river
below the village, and the green forests and
fresh meadows on the other side smiled
through it, like a fair woman through her
tears. A tired soul might have drunk in its
beauty and been rested, but Jane Graves cast
her eyes down on the dusty road before her
and walked along with set bitter curl on
her bright red lips, and did not once look at
the gift of Gods mercy to the poorest OF his
creatures. For her part she despised the
poor; she didn't pity them; great strong men
who submitted to be trodden on and ground
under the feet of the rich; whose blood and
muscles and quivering flesh were weighed in
the balance against few dollars of the spec
uators 1t was good enough for them as
long as they submitted to it. She didn't
plauIo tho rich: they were the only wise peo-
pie; she only envied them. They did well to
take all they could get and walk over as
many thousands as would fall down before
them. Oh, if she could only win her way to
their ranks. But the rich men do not come
into the weave room for their enslavers.
Suddenly she heard a step behind her; a
step she knew from all others in the world,
and the whole air seemed to tremble with a
new, strange, heavenly impulse.
"Good evening, Jane"
She turned with new, sweet shyness. 1t
was Curran, the agitator, who was beside
her. A soft flush was on her cheeks, a warm
light in hor eyes that had grown larger for
him in delicious surprise.
"Who is that young fellow who just left
your
sob, one of my lovers" she answered
coquettishly, dropping her eyes before his.
''He your loverln repeated Curran in his
imperious fashion. you're not for such as
he Jennie"
Her heart fiuttered in sweet fear at the
meaning She thought in his words. She was
trying to walk very slowly, but how fast
they seemed to pass the houses.
$50 told him." she said
"You did well, then" and he looked down
admiringly on the girl. "You are fine wo-
man. don't suppose you know it."
Jane Graves tried to look as if it was news
to her, and Curran went on. "Few women
are prettier. There are fine prizes for such as
you in this world if you will only wait" He
for distinction; a pretty face brings it to
wo1nenn
''What sort of prizesf And she trusted
herself to look up at him. How grand he
was, with his firm, strong face. If he only
had a touch of weakness in him that might
bend down to her.
Position, money, power"
mo woman cares for those" And she be-
1ieved it as she spoke, looking away over the
river.
"What then?' he asked, smiling. "Those
things are what all men are working for,
suppose"
"Women care for but one thing"
Sometimes the climax of character Is
reached only in old age, when storms have
wreaked their fury for lifetime on q SOUL
Sometimes it comes in childhood, with three
score years of decline to come after it. 1t
was at this moment that this girls life
reached its moral height. If she could but
have kept it,
''That is love-" she added softly. "It IS
their lives; they hope only for that; they
dream only of it"
Curran laughed, but gently, as he took her
hands at parting, pressing them perhaps I'M
consciously, yet no man can be wholly care
less to such beauty as hers.
at is only because women are more foolish
than men, not because they are more de-
voted, that they are able to make such abb
surd mistakes.n
She smiled on him as radiantly as a red
petaled rose unfolding its glowing heart to
the morning sun--the sun that gives every
thing and wants nothing, and stood half
turned watching his retiring form. The road
at this point passed near a deserted ruin,
once brick sawmill, which had shorn the
hills and valleys around of their pride, now a
favorite trysting place for lovers of moon
light nights like this would be. Curran was
lust entering under an arch, where once had
swung heavy oaken door which long ago
had served some shivering family for a
weeks firewood.
He went in and did not once turn How
cruel men are, Perhaps, she told herself, he
Is to meet there some messenger of the Great