The evening tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 189?-190?, 1897-04-13
MARY'S ROMANCE.


Unite patience.
Mary was her name, and we all doomed
u fitting. Her eyes were. as the village
gossips put It, her only beauty. They were
large and blue gray. There was wistful
sweetness In them that won the hearts OF
such of her patrons as occasionally let a
thought stray from darts and leg o NUT
tons and revers to the silent fashioner OF
the same
Mary's unobtrusive personality was re-
fected In the gray gowns and hats which
she always wore Some of her employers,
angular Of face and figure and unlovely OF
character, might have found cause for COM
plant in their hireling's prediction for
the sunshine and color and Joy of life. So
Mary adhered TO nunlike shades and her
remarks were confined to inquiries about
the comfort giving qualities OF the gar
ments she manufactured.
She had come from the nearest city five
years before. She had lived quietly lin
rooms" and those who peddled sensations
in their own "sets' found her humble lit
tie affairs of no concern. One or tvs
would be gallants found she had a remark
able talent for aloofness. 1t was the same
have sought her society. The women
whom she served regarded her as cheap
and skillful machine, and there their in
terest ended. Hers was lonely life, and
1t was some unknown influence that kept
her so well poised and quietly cheerful.
Mary had romance. When asked abour
Ii, she responded with bushes and happy
glances.
1t was not very different from that Oh
other girls as poor and patient as Mary.
They had grown up together-that phrase
that embraces so much Of youthful hope
and sympathy Their parents had lived
side by side. Hers died first. She had
learned the trade from a city dressmakel
and had come to the village because there
were 80 many of her vocation in the bis
town. That was all, except that Frank,
too. became AN orphan and his task Of get
ting through the law school had been
doubly hard for that reason. He had just
completed the task and was going to locate
in the capital Of the adjoining state. She
could not see him so often now, but If all
went well they would be together In a
year. Then her little sister lived there with
her aunt. Frank had never seen her. but
they would soon be friends because Of her.
"Is your sister like you, Nary" asked
the merchants wife as she hcmmed a ruf.
fle overland.
"Oh, mol" said the little seamstress. "I
have not seen her since she was a child, but
she was beautiful then. Frank cannot
help liking her."
Mary told the rest of the story a year
later with her head pillowed on her friends
broad bosom and her slender, gray figure
shaken by the storm Of a womans great
grief.
Don't mind me, Mrs. Brown" she said
when she felt big tears falling upon her
hair. st was probably for the best. She
is q more suitable wife for Frank. ]
couldn't keep pace with him when l had
to sew all day and in the evening, too,
and she is SO young and bright and lovely.
She didn't know and he couldn't help low
ing her. Don't blame them"
The neighborhood seamstress, worn
from her close companionship with the
bright, slender needle that won for her her
bread, had yielded to her aunt's and sis
ter's invitation and gone to the capital foi
a fortnight.
Besides, as she wrote Frank, it was hig,
time she did some shopping in the city, for
she needed some Of the things for he.
modest little outfit" Frank made no ref
reply. She thought this was due TO his alb
sorption in his cares and tried not to be
panied by the omission.
Her "little sister," grown into won
drously pretty young woman, and Frank
were at the station to meet her. Ruby's
greeting was warmly affectionate. The
proprieties did not admit of Frank 8 being
so, she knew, and she scolded herself for
the dull little pain at her heart because it
was so. She was glad to see on what friend
ly terms Frank and Ruby were. She was
so glad they liked each other. But she had
been sure they would.
II found it out that evening"" she sob
bed. 1T was only little accident that
told me they loved each other. But
woman's heart is clever, II her brain isn't
had a good excuse for going to bed early,
for was tired from the journey. never
slept at all. Mrs. Brown, could SEQ how
well Frank and Ruby looked together.
The picture of them standing under the
gaslight drove me nearly crazy. / knew
she was a wife Frank could be proud Of,
and 1 wasn't. But my life was so empty
without him. My love for him and plans
for little home of our own were the only
bright things in It, knew why his letters
had been SO few and short when saw him
look ut her that evening. l thought
would go mad that night. l believe i
should have. But toward morning peace
came to me--that kind of peace, you know,
that comes after q storm on the ocean,
that leaves the shore strewn with wrecks.
Still 1t was peace. That came after made
up my mind to give him up.
"Oh, Mrs. Brown, it was 80 easy for
him. He just said, I'm sorry, Mary, but
he looked rs though no would have said,
Il am ashamed, Mary, and he didn't ask
me why. He knew / knew all about ID,
but she never did. Dear hearti I'm go
ing to make the white dress over to flt her,
and the other things too. Oh, yes, will.
You know, Mrs. Brown, I'm not used 20
it yet, and 1t breaks my heart TO look at
them. They will be married next MONTH"
They were. Mary, the little seamstress,
still lives In the village, but she has
changed much. The blue of her eyes has
faded into the gray, and VIC think some
times her checks are taking on that ashcn
hue, or Ia it reflection Of her gown
She is as patient as ever, but not ~