The morning call., 1893-03-23
THE VICTIM.

He was the president Of a bank in a
Southern city-an only child, rich, cultured
and moral.
She supported her mother by going from
house to house and sewing for 90 cents
day. She was a pretty, merrv-hearted,
amiable girl of II. with a frank. honest
disposition that took things for what they
seemed, and. therefore, always inspired
fair dealings.
He met her by chance in his mothers
sewiug-rOom one day. Then the old story
began. He had little else TO do but fall in
love-and she had so much else that was
sadder AMI harder to do that 1t came 10 her
as a sort Of restful recreation,
So every evening = 6 o'clock she left the
fine house with gEt heart ana tired fingers,
and would climb up 10 the little cubby-hole
IN the tenement-hCuse which she and her
mother called home" ana, after making
the invalid comfortable for the evening
with the IRONY of such comfort as her 80
cents day allowed, she would take down
a mysterious roll Of white garments and
sew and talk as lovingly about him and
with as proud a heart as the belle on the
avenue uptown who ordered her trousseau
from Paris.
Those were gay times for her; and If he
Glanced TO cCme one night in a week 10
take her to the theater she would be in an
inward invisible world of gayety for days
afteTwaTd, while stitching demurely away
on frilis and furbelows for her employers.
But at last, one winter night, he walked
home with her from her work and told her,
with a sad, grave face, about a sweet, good
woman, in his own station OF life, who loved
him as truly as she did; and how much de-
pended upon their marriage-her happiness.
his mothers happiness, the splendid union
Of two fair names and fOrtunes-Gnd so be
kissed her with all the tenderness of last
kiss, and went away with God only knows
how much Of grief or regret in his heart.
All night long she lay in silence, face
downward, on the hard floor of their mar
row room; all night long the little roll of
white garments lay folded away on the
table-nO more to be touched or smiled over
again than dead child-and in the morn
ing she arose and went away. But she did
not 90 to her work.
As he came out of his gate he found her
leaning against It. He touched her gently
and said:
You must 60 home little woman; 1t will
not do for you to be seen standing here"
But she only looked up and smiled-and
when he glanced into her gentle eyes ne
started back at the truth they revealed,
for they we're as two open windows of a
tenantless house. Life and thought had
gone away"
Size walked along silently by his side until
at last he said again:
Go home, dear child; you cannot 60
along this way with me-"
But whenever he spoke she only looked
up and smlled-sO sweet smile on so sad
face that II was TO him like a ray Of sun
light on a marble tomb. Soon they reached
the great stone steps of his bank, and she
shrank back by some blind instinct from
the strange faces within, and cTouched
down in a sheltered, secret niche of the
narrow pOrtieO, which seemed 10 have been
intuitiYelY designed by the good builders
for this little castaway of love and reason
in n mi ha nat ferhf of har I
felt relieved that she had disappeared; and
in the busy course of the days successful
enterprise he lost all remembrance of her,
Just as he would forget little black mote
that ha6 drifted before his eyes in the morn
ing sunlight.
But when be turned toward home in the
evening she followed again at his side, and
at his exclamation of surprise and displeas-
uIe she only looked up and smiled as before.
SO they went along in silence until they
reached his home. Then he entered and
closed the iron gate that she might not fol-
low. And she leaned YEARLY against it
without seeing the analogy that il bore to
the destiny that had SO shut her cut from
happiness and love.
After time he came out dressed for the
opera and found her there. Then he took
gently by the hand and led her home.
Along brilliant avenues, down dim streets
and across dark alleys he led her along /:
and those who passed and looked at the
silent two wondered at the strange variance
Of attire 10 which they appeared. II they
could have looked deeper Into the strange
variance OF their destines they would have
longer wondered, and some there were
would have wept-gentle mothers, and those
sad ones with none but buried Joys whose
ghosts are always invoked by the spell Of
another's sorrows.
Up the long, gloomy stairs of the tene-
meDt ne led her, and at the doOr of her little
room he paused, then stopped and kissed her
in as passionless and soTrOwful a way as one
kisses the dead, thrust her gently within
the door and went away.