Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1894-03-10
A HALL BED ROOM
LIFE DRAMA, WITH THE SCENE IN THIS
CITY.

I first ran against her in the narrow hall
of our boarding house-a large, fine-look!ng
woman with sweet face and white hair.
There were lines in her face / suspected the
years alone had not brought there. though
she was nearer seventy than sixty. Then
found that she had the little hall bed room
next to our own. Such a tiny place as 1t
was, with it's narrow spotless bed, its strip
CT carpet over the mating, its washstand,
tiny table and lamp, mirror and one chair.
When 1 knew her better and would come
from that limited space into our own spa
cious, handsomely furnished room, 1 had a
guilty sort OF feeling-why were things so
unequally divided i'm this queer world of
ours? But she did not think so. She said to
me one day.in her brave. bright way:'1sn't it
fortunate, my dear. that my health keeps
up as it does, and that 1 have this quiet
little nook to rest in when I come home at
night so tired. and every one is so kind to
me. All my life l. have had such blessings.
At first, thought my husbands death was
terrible blow, but l have lived to thank
God that he was so honest and so true end
loving, and that / have only beautiful
memories of that chapter of my life. Then
L have never had disgrace like SO many /
have known" Her clear eyes looked proud
ly into mine Il can bear trouble, but I
could not bear dishonor. All. yes;'' she
went on, Il have been greatly blessed. I
had such a dear son, just like his father,
he never gave me a pang except by his
death. And then" she went on eagerly, Il
have such lovely daughter-you must rot
mind a mothers pride-see, here she is
She drew from a little bracket a prettily-
framed picture which had noticed before.
1t was such a striking face / could not
turn my eyes from it. Such brilliant.
laughing glance; such wonderful eyes; such
nameless charm. 1 broke forth in the
warmest admiration of the fascinating Wis
ion. And she is SO good-her beauty never
spoiled her. She writes me such loving let
tiers. You see. 1t seemed best for her to go
to my aunt in California, and / haven't
seen her for years. But she has had such
advantages, and my aunt writes that she
has a beautiful voice and dances SO well.
She sends me her pictures-that is her
latest"
The memory of Christine Heathcote's face
never left melt is impossible to describe
Its unusual effect And my love daily in
creased for the mother / was a bride,
happy, and leading a cloudless life. My
home had been in quiet inland town until
had married young physician of the
tlonal capital. and came to the city to live.
We were saving part of our modest in
come while boarding, hoping to be able to go
to housekeeping in year or two In my
homesick times when my husband was
away 1 used to run into Mrs. Heathcote's
room for cheer and company. 1t makes me
ashamed now to remember that l never
thought of her needing cheer She was al
ways so bright and uncompiaining always
SO erect and noble-looking. At first, in
deed, l was horror stricken over the idea
OF woman of her age working in the de-
partmenes. but this is no rare event in
n Tfn 70 md 80
looked at me In mild surprise when I,thnk-
Ing of my own mothers sheltered life. ex-
claimed over the pity of 1t. 1T is hard"
they said but not half so hard as If she
should lose her place; and she seems
healthy" But was not the only one v HON
Mrs. Heathcote helped and comforted.
met sweetfaced young girl in her room
several times. "She Is so young to have
such hard times. / love to do what / can
to lift her burden. and then in her gener-
Gus ways. and her goodness, she reminds
me of Christine" she said. when l asked
about her visitor
And then there came raews of the aunrs
death In California.
Perhaps Christine will come to me now"
Mrs. Heathcote said. yearningly. Il have
laid by a little, and with her voice she
might be able to earn something here"
She had joyous air in spite of her news.
Il never knew my aunt; she was good to
Christine she said. alphabetically that /
ought to mourn for her more, but 1 can
think OF nothing but seeing my baby, my
darling"
Slowly the days passed. and then, as
saw letter for Mrs. Heathcote addressed
In Christ.nes stylish chIrography lying in
the basket in the hall. j felt keen inter-
est in her probable advent. / pictured her
at our quiet table, with her beauty and vi
vacity. l saw my dear friend happy in her
companionship: 1 thought of the pleasure
ii would give me to have a girl of my own
age to partially compensate for the absence
of my own sisters.
i'm f,sa AZ.
homecoming. i heard her step, a little
slower than usual; then she went into her
room and the door was shut. My husband
vas very late that day. and | sat reading
my thoughts divided between my book and
the woman who interested me so much.
suddenly there was 4 light tap at my door
and Mrs. Heathcote stepped within, her
letter in her hand. She looked SO worn and
tired 1t went TO my heart. / led her to the
couch; "Ah, what news of the daughter
/ asked, gayly.
The dear girl thinks it best to postpone
her coming" she said quietly She is
earning money where she is, and thinks
she can help me more and do better there
than here. She speaks of her singing, but
does not enter into particulars-probabl
she thinks L would worry for fear she is
over-working.''
The weeks and months passed by. but in
spite of the seltishness of young and
happy married people David and L noticed
that Mrs. Heathcote seemed less active
and moved more slowly. We used TO plan
that we would make her share our little
home when the happy day arrived that
started us in housekeeping, for David had
learned TO love her almost much as ].
Then the letters from Christine came
ihclosiug checks, with the loving words
Il shall save them and go to her." the
mother said happily. "Ah, the dear, hard
working daughter!"
But L could not picture that dazzling
creature teaching music or doing any sort
of piodding work. Whatever it was she
certainly succeeded, for the checks came
regularly, and always Christine was beg
ging her mother to use them solely for Der
own comfort The sweet-faced young girl
enjoyed part of that money, l know, and
she was not the only one. And then Chris !
tine wrote urging her mother to give up
all work and take her long-needed rest
Il shall not yet" Mrs. Heathcote said to
me, for / want to prepare for my long
journey and visit ito my dear girl And
then Christine wrote that she hoped to
come east in a few months.
so | shall give up my PLAN" the mother
said.
The months went by-on wings to me
but while Mrs. Heathcote said little as was
her wont, doubtless dragging slowly to her
longing heart.
1t was nearing the time for Christine to
come, when again my dear friend entered
my room. 1t was later than before, and