The Wichita daily eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1890-1906, 1890-12-30
MARGUERITE BRAIDS.


seated in low rocker busily engaged in
sewing on peasants costume for fancy
dress ball.
A wonderfully pretty picture did this in
dustrious little seamstress make as she sat
in her leafy bower this perfect June day.
Her complexion was the clear pearly white,
softly tinted, so often seen in New Eng
lands daughters, her features were deli
cate and regular, with a mouth of sensitive
sweetness, as expressive of every emotion
as her large violet blue eyes, that shaded
from deepest azure almost to purple; but
her greatest beauty, her browning glory,
was her hair. 1t was not merely blonde
hair, faxen or yellow, but it was pure
golden tint that shone in each glittering
thread like FURNISHED gold. 1t waved in
thick silken masses off from her broad.
low forehead, and was gathered at the back
of her shapely little head in two great
satin smooth braids that fell to her very
knees.
Her figure as it bent over the swing was
tall, slender and graceful in every curve
and line, and she was as unconscious of her
own beauty as she was that there was any
merit in the laborious, self denying life she
| led.
Beth Thornton's father had been a re-
tired naval officer, whose half pay had bare
" sufficed to support himself and his wife
and child without having any surplus for
the inevitable "rainy day" The year before
our story opens he had died, and with him
his slender income, leaving his wife and
daughter penniless, save for the tiny cot
tage in which they lived
About this time Mrs. Thornton's sight
began to fail her, with the awful prospect
of losing it entirely without she submitted
to delicate aud costly operation.
This double calamity was a hard blow to
poor little Beth, then scarcely Is. Worst
of all was the know ledge that the terrible
misfortune which threatened her mother
might be averted if only she possessed the
money to pay for the services of a skilled
oculist, sum that appeared almost hope
less for her to raise by her own exertions
But Beth was sensible little girl, who
knew that tears and repinings would not
remedy matters or keep the wolf from the
door, so she bravelv set herself to work.
All of Der own girlish hopes and aspira-
tions were resolutely put to one side, and
not being able to find more congenial en-
ployment in the sleepy Berkshire village
where she lived she began her battle of ex-
| istence as q seamstress.
1t was something of trial and humili-
alton to her proud spirit to work as a SER
want in families where she had formerly
visited as an honored guest. but like the
noble, truehesrted girl that she was, Beth
went about her duties cheerfully and I'M
! complainingly, and tried bravely to stifie
all rebellious thoughts and regrets.
fr1f
efforts to keep down the unhappy memo
ries, but this glorious June morning as she
sat diligently sewing on Edith Bradford's
Marguerite costume for the grand masque-
rade ball at the Courtenays' they arose and
| triumphed over her. A little sigh escaped
her as she thought how hard it was that
she must be shut out from all such pleas
ures and gayeties so dear to young girls
! heart.
There's lots of good times in the world,
only | amt in EN-" Beth quoted with a
tremulous little smile. and she leaned her
head far back so that the tears, which had
rushed 60 her eyes at the doleful words of
poor Glory MacQuirk, should not fall on
the delicate fabric in her lap and spot it.
| And as she sat thus with her head raised,
her eyes-from which she had dashed the
| pearly drops--wandered across the valley
to where the gray stone turrets and gables
of Buchcroft, Philip Courtenay's magnifi-
cent home, rose in stately grandeur abovs
the lofty tree tops.
Beth had received an invitation to Mrs.
Courtenay's masquerade ball. which was
to be given in honor of her sons return
from Europe, where he had been for the
past ten years completing his education
by study and travel. II was not often that
she cared about going to the neighborhood
parties to which she had invitations, even
had it been possible for her to have done
so, but this one she did long to attend
most earnestly.
Could it be on account Of handsome
! Phil Courtenay? Beth asked herself in
sudden terror. And the thought made
her pulses throb, as somehow he had
made them do more than once during
these past few weeks since his return-and
be Edith Bradford's loverl
Just at that moment Miss Bradford her
self came up the piazza steps, looking so
fair and elegant in her pearl gray tailor
made walking suit and her jaunty En-
glish toque, with the blue plume curling
over her golden hair. which was the exact
shade of Beth's long plaits.
Isn't it too provoking'" she cried, q
little frown of impatient displeasure in
| her pretty face, as she sank down in a
willow rocker beside Beth. Even Gaillard
cannot match my hair for those Mar
guerite braids! What on earth shall / dc
about it, Give up my character or stay al
homer"
Beth was instantly relieved of the sharp
little touch of pain the recollection OF
Phil Courtenay had given her by the sound
| of Edith's voice.
Il should not let such little thing a:
the want Of a plsit or two of false hail
keep me at home from Mrs Courtenay'
masquerade If at all wanted to so, Beth
said, quietly; but then, you know,
wouldn't want to go anyhow"
You honest little Puritan! Bnt, then
you are so different from any other cir
that ever lived sho1ld think you would
literally stagnEte going about the way yor
do and dr1dging for everybody. BY th'
way as you are 80 soon 20 leave mere, I
want your private opinion-mind, Beth,
your very, most heartfelt opinion-about
Philip-the one only man / ever saw whom
| | loved"
Her heartfelt opinionl The unconscious
| sarcasm pierced her 70 the heart, aao II
was alarmingly near her quivering bps,
averted from Edith's eyes, 70 say that he
ws the one only man she, too, had ever
loved or would ever love. Instead she an
swered quietly:
''Mr. Courtney eught TO make You a
blessed WOMAN, Miss Bradford"
and is = an h4 hand ha will" Edith