Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1892-01-01
CHAPTER VII.
AMONG FLOWERS


Olive to the fower-shop on Monday
morning. Pale and shadowy as ever,
the little woman was quite equal to the
occasion, and even spoke q few words
of encouragement to her companion.
michael Chase doesn't want you to
work." she said. ''But you will be all
the happier for an occupation, Olive. l
wish we had found something for our
Jessie to do. We kept her here, moon
ing about the house and going for aim
less walks; and so it came to pass that
the idle young woman met with an idle
young man. He thought she had money
because she had nothing to do. Idle
ness is sign of riches. If she had
been busy working girl she would
have escaped George Burnett"
The wife isn't always wrong" said
Samuel, who had been listening with
rather a sad smile. ''And the foolish
father was the chief person to be
blamed. 1t was my fault, Olive. Poor
Jessie was Il delicate-loolIing white
thing, pretty in her way; and thought
she was too fragile to go into bust
ness. George Burnett took her for an
heircss, suppose. He believed that |
could afford to keep her, and her hus-
band, too"
''You are fortunate, Olive" sighed
Mrs. Wake. michael isn't counting
you for what he can get. lie loves
you, doesn't he, Samuel?"
Samuel nodded, and added, mentally:
AS much as he can love anyone"
He always preserved q vivid remem-
brancc of his own youth, and nothing
would have induced him to mcddle with
lao JNf
this IL true love affair? One person was
in love with himself, and only wanted
wife to feed and nourish his sclf-Iove;
the other was clinging fondly to an ig-
noble being, tricllcd out in fancy cos
tune of her own making. True love
dwclls among dreams and fitfu! lights
and shadows; but its dreams take a
definite shape and come to life, and then
it is not afraid to stand face to face
with them.
This curious, unsuccessful old man
understood Olive very well, and as the
days went on he saw that She suffered
from feelings that were many and com
plicatcd. She WAS always trusting and
mistruSting; doubling and longing to
believe; unquirt, because the truth that
was in her would not let her be satisfied
with shams Very gladly would he
have toilCd for her, and spared her all
necessity of work. But he knew that
work was good for hcr-that the world
was good for hcr-that the sight of
many faces and the sound of many
voices would help her along that diff
cult, unseen path which every one of us
must tread alone.
She settled easily and naturally into
her place in Burridgc's flower shop, and
all Lucy Cromcr's predictions were full
filled. 1t was only with Michael that
Olive was nervous and shy; with other
people she could hold her own modcstly
and quietly, yet with resolution. The
ceascless roar of the great street soon
ceased to be confusing. She sat steadily
at her work behind the counter, bend
ing her small brown curly head over
the fragrant blossoms There was al
ways n great deal to do. Wrcaths and
crosses for the dead; bridal bouquets;
sprays and graceful trailing clusters for
ball dresses. Her def Euyers did won
dcrs with flowers, arranging them
among many shaded leaves and delicate
maidcnhair. The window was filled
with specimens of her handiwork;
passers-by paused spcllbound; the
charm of her fancy gave a new beauty
to the fair, frail things that she touched
with dainty skill
One day some one came into the shop
and ordered Il spray of yellow roses.
Olive was as busy as usual; but when
he spoke she looked up. He was well
built man, slightly above middle height,
and he was looking at her with pair
of thoughtful gray eyes, dark and
rather lcthargic. lie had clear, gentle
voice and slow manner, in which, how
ever, there was not the slightest affec-
tation. Nothing in his face was re-
markablc; the skin was brOnzed, the
features irregular, and tawny mus
tache dropped over the mouth. Yet
there was something in those heavy
liddcd gray eyes that made Olive think
of them again.
There was a lady with him. a we'll
made woman, not beautiful, but dis
tinctly thoroughbred. She wore a
| Jacket and gown of brown tweed, and
the plain costume seemed to adapt itself
to all the easy movements of the wearer
She too looked at Olive; and the girls
quick ear caught the sentence that the
man said to her in low voice 1t was
something about Dantc's Matilda, "who
on the edge of happy Lethe, stood
wreathing flowers with flowers"
| They departed, and Olive went on
with her wreathing. Often, in silent
fashion, she talked with the blossoms
NOTICE.