The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1893-01-12
CHAPTER I.
THE SECOND BELLE OF A SEASON.


belle of Washington season. She
would have ranked as the first belle
instead, if only she'd been just little
| bit human. Her face was beautiful
as beautiful as q statues, when one
saw it in repose; cold, clear-cut, per-
feet, with regular features andI a
creamy complexion: q seulptor's
model in evening dress; full round
bust, faultless figure. But when
Maisie smiled or talked, her charm
was lessened, not increased, as it
ought to be with animation. She was
beautiful still, to be sure-still per-
feet, still faultless; but that was all;
nothing in any way better than mere
perfection. She lacked the saving
grace of feminine touch, winning soft
ness. The other belle beat her there;
the other belle had heart. Maisie
Bowman had only neck and Shout
| ders.
Yet strange to say, though she
reigned acknowledged as viCe-queen of
a season, Maisie Bowman could hard
ly count q single lover. Admirers by
| the score hocked around her of course;
as she entered the ballroom, young
men crowded in, eager to fill up her
card. Western congressman wed with
European attaches in their ardent
! desire to fetch her an ice, or take her
down to supper. But there the thing
ended. 1t was dance the men want
| ed, not q wife, Maisie noted; it was a
partner for waltz they sought, not
| a partner for q lifetime. And this
was annoying, no woman can live on
admiration alone; especially not
Maisie. What she longed for most
were diamonds, house, position in
| the world, carriage of her own, and
incidentally husband.
All these-save perhaps the last
she might have in time, no doubt,
| from her own resources. Her mother
was rich-the widow of a wealthy iron
| founder in the Pittsburg district; and
| people said Maisie would inherit her
wealth. But then, Mrs. Bowman had
thirty good years of life still left in
her. A comfortable bark OF ample
tonnage, she sailed easily down thefull
stream of life before prosperous
breezes. 1t might be long indeed be-
fore she came to anchor. That made
the attaches hang back somewhat. If
the money mad been Maisie's now,
they might have found the profundity
of their feelings some day too much
for, them; but as it was Mrs. Bow
mans, they managed to keep their
sentiments down to the level of mere
objective artistic admiration for her
face and figure. Besides, Mrs. Bow
man might marry again any day. A
widow OF forty-fve, with ten thousand
year of her own, may easily excite
tender passion in the susceptible
breast of New England congressman.
And when say ten thousand q year.
mind you, | mean pounds sterling
not dollars of United States currency.
One day a new sensation broke up
on Washington. Jose Mansfield, the
poet of the far western world came
to visit the capital.
All society went wild latter it's
WON'T, over thislatest sensation. In
the dialect of the time and place,
there was O. Mansfield boom that
year in Washington. The world
talked Of nothing but the prairie
poet-his picturesque mien, his flow
ing brown locks, his fiery southern
eyes, his volcanic energy. For hot
Mexican blood. it was rumored, ran
in Jose Mansfeld's veins; his mother
had been famous Spanish beauty at
Santa Fe; his father, apioneer rancher
on the edge OF the Slerras. He was
Buffalo Bill with just a flavor OF
Byronese poetry thrown in; the Wild
West subdued and purified for draw
ing-room use.
Maisie Bowman, like all the rest
was eager to meet and conquer
the hero of the hour. A COO
uette at heart, what she wanted
most of all in the world was conquest
| Admiration, not love, was the stake
she played for. And it was with a
thrill Unconscious pleasure tina she
received one day an invitation from
Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Brown to an
evening reception "to meet Mr.. Jose
Mansfield
AS the new lion entered the spacious
saloon, Maisie's eyes rested long and
eagerly on him. "A thrill ran through
her; she had met her Fate. The
| prairie poet was tall and handsome,
large-built breezy man, not wholly
out of place in all evening suit, yet
looking as though O. sombrero and
cowboys jacket would have done full
Ter aiustice to his big limbs and hand
some devil-may-care features. Every
| face in the room was turned toward
the new conner. But as for him, he
sauntered up to his hostess, with the
long slow swing of man accustomed
to the endless showroom Of the
| praries; and even as he shook hands
with her, his-.eyes had lighted full with q
strange flash on Maisie. Introduce
me to that GIRL" he said briefly, with
the imperious curtness he affected as
part of the poetical manner. "Shes
as handsome as she can hold. And
looks intelligent, too. Every gift of
nature-except perhaps a soul. But
after all, if it comes to that, a body's
great deal. can put up without
souls. must know her and sound
her."
"She's the second belle OF our sea-
son." Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Brown in
teriected, smiling.
| And Jose Mansfield made answer,
with a wide wave of his big, brown
hand, washington must be rich, in
deed, if it holds tonight another belle
who can give her one point and beat
her."
Mrs. Van Rensselaer, Brown, not ILL.,
pleased, took him across and intro
duced him. The poet, paving his long
barbaric brown moustache for q mo-
ment, like some western Alaric, scan
ned her over from head to foot as he
might have scanned trotting horse,
and approved of her mentally. Then
he turned to his hostess with grave
politeness. mot the second belle, he
said in very distinct voice. "The
first. The only one.
1t was audacious. It was cruel.
He ought not to have betrayed Mrs.
Van Rensselaer, Browns confidence.
But it took Maisie by storm. Never
before in her life had any man in the
world so openly admired her. For
the first time, Maisie Bowman blush
ed. She blushed crimson to her finger
tips, great wave seemed to pass