The Breton Mills

Oopyrighted by the Author, and published by arraugement witli him. CHAPTEE IV. Cr.Yl.NQ FOB THE MOON. The striiVnt voiees of 400 looins would seem to be too much for human nerves, but the waürt of ! ki weavo room Number T'o of the Breton milis are hung with soiled plaid shawls and chip hats, the Jivery of the factory girl. Tiieir restless forms aro biisy among the rattling machinery, tiieir swift cunning fingers moviug harmlessly where mutilation would scem certain. lt is a mere matter of habit; one look at mest of the set palé faces would show there was no brain force in exerciso. Why, the overseer will teil you those girls are as much machines as the frames aud belting; though thoy undoubtedly have one advaiitage for tho employers, the girls are cheaper. Tho wonderful mechanism of those looms, the skillful system of belts and pulleys and the enormous water wheel cost a fortune. Girls can be bought in the market any day for a orust of bread. Is not that figure familiar - the ono that stands this moment leaning against a dingy white pillar, while the rushing belts and eliding frames seem hurrying the f aster all about her? Yes, on the piece of wall between the two jail like windows nearest to her hangs the plaid shawl Philip Breton had for a counterpanc only last night. Her dress is soiled and ill made, and her hair tied up in tho closest and ugliest coil to escape the greedy machinery, ever reaching out for new victims. But the wai'm, soft tint of her cheokg and the moist sheen in her black eyes wora ahvays the same, and many a young man would rather look at her this minuto thaa turn off an extra cut, they cal! it, of cloth at twenty cents. Her days used to be more terrible to her even than now. She had wished every nioraing that sho mighfc die before night, and at night that God would. take her bet'ore morning; feike hoi-, she eared not where; no place eould be worse, certain. But she was slowly growing, she thought, into the dead dm that all the rest had learned; and j'et how she hated the great massive milis, irresistiblo giants that held her with deathless grasp, grimly coutemptuous of her writhings and foolish struggles. Tbe ovferseers, too, how 6he hated them ; their sharp words stung her like the lasa of so many taskmastcrs, and the paymaster who doled out to her tho few dollars, the wagps of blood and llfo, as if that could be paid for. She had longed eo many times to throw back his money iu the smiling, patronizing face; but the poor cannot afford the dearest of all luxuries, pride. Suddenly the rnill bell rang out abovo the roar of the wheels, and at its voice the looms stoppcd, the breath of their life taken away, and the belts ceased from their endless race. Another day's work was closed, and tho poor girls hurried on their shawls and hate as if at last something pleasant awaited theni and wentout in chattering groups. " VVhat is it, Tonxmie?" A brood shouldered young fellow had left the erowd aiid followed her shyly up the hill. "Nothin' much, oidy may I walk home with you?" "Will that do you good Iliirry up then." He was au lionest faced young fellow, and a little better dressed than most of the group that waited about the mili yard gate. "What you want to walk round here with me for I can't see. They can't work you very hard, Tommie, if you want so muoh extra exercise." It was rather a contemptuous laugh she had for him, but she showed a row of email white teeth that poor Tommie thought were very beautiful. "I wanttd to say somethin' particular, Jennie." And he reached down his big dingy hand for a stalk of grass, and began pulling it nervcusly to pieces, as he kopt up with her quick feet. They were just passing Mr. Ellingsworth's house, and father and daughter stood in the doorway. No doubt Mr. Ellingsworih had just come homo to tea. Ho held his tal! hat iu his hand, while he waited with his beautiful daughter to enjoy the aof fc spring mildness. Jane Graves could see ia behind them. How could they bear to stay outside? She saw a white spread tea table glistening with silver and rare china, soft tiuted carpets and pictures in rich gilded frames, far prettier, she was sure, than anything nature had to show. The girl's face, as she Etood resting her white hand on her father's ghoulder, was as calm as the twilight itself. ''How has she deserved it all more tUau It She was never tired in her life, and I never lie down at night but my hands and feet ache. See what she gets for being idlo; seè" what I get for my ten hours' work, every day sinco I was a child." "We've known cach other pretty long, Jennie, and - and'' - he had pulled the gras all all to pieces - "and I s'pose you know how I'vo - I mean how I've feit. I ain doing a HfUo better now." The young man's eyes brignfcened. 'Tve got a little money lef t me, and you kiiow I'm just made second hand." "What is that to me, Tommie?" she said, impatiently. Her woman's soul was longing for the beautiful life of the rich, whoso houso she was passing, and sho feit, too, the admiring glance Jlr. Ellingsworth had given to her graceful figure. Why was this awkward boy by her side to spoil the effect? Tommie Bowler winced, but dueking his round head to avoid the sharp look he feared was in the beautiful eyes, he went on doggedly. "I s'ixsed we'd been agoing together quite a -while, Jennie, and I was goin' to ask you when you was willin' to be married." "Married- to you f' Ah, Tommie 'Bowler, what were you thinking of to wunt to marry a girl who had sUcfa a tone as that for you? ïears of sharne started inlo his oyos. "I aint so .ow; I never thought but what yau ■woiüd before." She gave hini a look half curious and half pitlful. Ho might as well have cried for tho moon. Could it be the lad thought that just because she was pretty she could mako his home happy for htm- his? "I'm not gomg to havo a hand at making another poor man's homo. People like us had better bo single; there's only half tho trouble that way, Tommie." The broa'i sliouMered young man, who did not know what was good for him, feil back ! from the woman his heart hungered for as if he was shot. And she walked on, with hardly another thought for tho foolish lover who imagined tfeey two could be happy together. Why couldn't she bo rich? They had always told her she was beautiful. If she onJy had a chanco. They say men are foola over pretty women, and that is the only hope a woman has of winning her way. If she only had a chance. A delicate gray mist floated over the river below tho villano, and the green forests and fresh maidows on the other sida smiled through it, liko a fair woraan through her tears. A tircl soul might have drunk in its beauty nnd been rested, but Jane Graves cast her eyes down on the dusty road bef ore her and walked along with a set bitter curl on her bright red lip.-;, and did not once look at tho gift oL G6d's morcy to tho poorest of bis crcaturra. For her part she despised tho poor; slie didnt pity them; great strong men who submittcd to bo troddeii on and ground uuJer tho f et of ,t!i9 rich; whose blood and muscles and quivering ilesh were weighed in the balance against a few dollars of the speculators. It was good cnough for them as long as they snbmitted to it. She didn't blame the rich ; they were the only wise people; she only envièd thém. did wx'U to tafce all thoy could got and walk over as rnany; tnoiisands as would fall down before them. Oh, if she coukl ouly win her way to ' heïr rauks. Eut tho rich men do not come into the v.-eavo room for their enslavers. Suddenlyshe heard a step behind her; a step sho kncw from all others in the world, and tho whole air seomed to tremblc with a ::;w, strange, heavenly impulse. "Good evening, Jano." Sho turned wiih a new, sweet shyness. It was Curran, the agitator, who was beside her. A soft flush was on her cheeks, a warm light iu her oyes that had grown larger for him in delicious surprise. ""Who is that youug fellow who just left you?" "Oh, ono of my lorere," she answered eoquettihly, dropping her eyes before his. "He your lover!" repeated Curran in his imperious fashion. "YoiVre not for sueh as ho, Jennio." lier heart fluttored in sweet feár at the meaning sho tliought in his words. She was trying to walk very slowly, but how fast they seemed to pass the houses. "So I told him," she said. "You did well, theii," and he looked down admiringlyon the girl. "You are a üne woman. I don't supposs you lmow it." Jano Graves tried to look as ft it was newa to hor, and Curran went on. "Few woinen are prettier. Thero are fine prizes Lor such as you in this world if you will ouly wait." Ile continued thonghtfully, "Men have to vrork for distinetion ; a pretty face brings it to women." "What sort of prizes?" And she trusted herselt to look up at him. How grand he was, with his firm, strong face. If ho only fcad a touch of weakness in hini that might bend down to her. ''Position, naoney, power." "No woman cares for those." And she believed it as sho spoke, looking away over the river. "What then?' h9 asked, smiling. "Those things aro what all men are working for, I suppose." "Women rare for but one thing." Sometimos the climax of a character ia reached only in oíd age, when stornis have wreaked their fury for a lifetime on a soul. Sometmies it comes in childhood, with threescore years of decline to come after it. It was at th.j moment that this girl's lif reached its moral height. If she could but lave kopt it. "That is lovo,"sho addixl softly. "It is their Uves: they hope only fm' that; they dream only of it." Curran laughed, but gently, as ho look her ïands at parting, pressing tliem perhaps nneonscionsly, yet no man can lie wholly careess to such beauty sliers. "It is only because woinen are iDore foolish ,ha;i men, not becau-e they are more devotsd,that they are able to make such absurd mistakes." She smilcd o: him as radiantly as a rnd )etalcd rotse uufolding its glowing lieart to ;!ie morning sim - the sim that givns evory.hing and wants nothing, and stood half urned watchiug his retiringform. Theroad at this poïut passea uear a aeseiwi rum, once a briok sawmil!, which had shorn the hills and vallcys aroundof thoir pride, now a favorite trysting plaoa for lovers of moonlight nigh!.3 like this would be. Curran was just entering under an arch, where once had swung a heavy oaken door which long ago had scrrod some shivering family for a week's Crewood. He went in and did not cnce turn. How cruel rnen are. Perhaps, she told herself, he is to meet there some messouger of the Great league ho liad told har aboutr and they will plan together some bold strofe. It was beautiïul to havo such power ,.even iL it made him fqrget this one poor giii, whosO heart iongéd so eagerly for another smile. The whole world seemed glorifled to tbo girl as sho walked on. Sho hact loitered so long that tho sun was now aUnost setting, with his flowing robe of carmine about him, and the whole landscape seemed in rapture of silent worship. Jane Graves was like one in a dream - her home, which she could teil from its cheap dreary counterparts, might have been a paluee; the path aloug in front of it, boaten by so many faltering footsteps, seomed only pleasantly familiar her. What had she seen to envy in anybodjr's lifa that had not her dear hope ! But down the hill comesa great white horse, tossing his mane and curveting in the pride of his strength and beauty. lts rider who held the rein so gracefully must be ybung Philip, the mili owner's son; ho had just fiuished college .. they said. So that was the young man Bertha EUingsworth was engagcd to; not ill looking, and he rodo woll. Tho girl smiled to. herself. "But Bertha EUingsworth had ïiot seen Curran." "Did he lift his hat to me" She looked inquiringly about her. "There is no one else, and his black eye seemed to kntvw me, too; how odd!" thought the girl,. as she walkod on more hastily, and the horse and its rider disappeared in a cloud of dust. "And it seems as if I iad seen him somewhore, too." CHAPTER V. A Rüm BY MOONLIOHT. Bertha lay back indolently in har favorito armchair, watching the deepening twilight from her parlor window. Her eycs wero almost closed, and Philips aftecting to be interested in Mr. Ellingsworth's couversation, thought ho niiglit look at her as-iondly as ho chose without discovery and rebuke. Ho was sure ho vus -not noticed, but tho girl was quite enjoying his silent otTering- so long as ho did not guess sha perceived it. If a girl must have a lover, Philip did very well. But her lover was no divinity to her ; she saw all his faults as clearly as anybody ; not with impatience, however; that was not her temperament. For examplo, he was too short and his shoulders were too si ight. She never forgot it for an instant. But then he always did what sho said, and that was very coavenient, and yot she was half provoked with him for ib. A man ought to command a woman's love, not try to coax it from her. He thought quite too much of her for what sho returued him; ho ought to bo stern and cold to her sometimes, and give her a chanco to be something bosides an ungratef ui recipiënt, But perhaps she would not like him at all in that charactor. She suddenly opened her eyes wido and looked curiously at her lover; there is nothing so chilling as such a look as that, and Philip winced uudor it. "WeH, I supposo you two are bursting with tender confldencos," smiled llr. Ellingsworth, as he rose to his f eet: "I really won't stay a minute longer.51 He moved toward the door, thenhe sruiletí and looked aronnd; he had thought of something very funny. "Now Philip, my dear boy, yon mnstn't be too sure of her just because she seems so affectionate. That is where a young man makes his worst mistake. As long as there is another man in the world, he may have hope, that is, the other man." His daughtcr looked coolly after him. "Must you goï Why we shall dio oí ennui. Wo shall have to talco a walk ourselves. Excuse me, riiilip, while I get ready." Left alone, the young man rose and wcnt to the window and looked out at the evening sky. There was a littlo frown on his face. "What an unpleasant way of talking Bertha's father had. One would think ho belioved in nothing. Thore was no danger of his feeling any too sure of her ; how f ar away she seemed to him. The idea of marriage soetned vague and dreamlike, and yet he had her promise." "Yoa may adjut my shawl for me." His vexatiön fied, and ho smiled with the sweet complacency of possession as he laid the delicato bit of lace about her warm shoulders. To-night would be a good time to turn his idea into reality, and ask her when "But you must promise me one thing," she said, standing close to him for one moment. "What is that, Bertha, dearí" ho asked with guilty uneasiness. Sho put her 'soft white hand in his so eharinmgly that he was suddenly suro it could be nothing hard she would require. "I promise," he assented. "No lovo making in the ruin, if I let you take mo thore." "Why, Bertha!" he exclaimed so sorrowfully that he showed his whole plan. The girl laughed. "You are too cunning by half, Mr. Philip, but thon you know love making in the saw mili is too common. Why, it is the rendezvous of all the f actory hands. No, I couldn't think of it for a moment." "Then I won't insist on taking you to the oíd saw mili." "Oh, yes! it is charming by moonlight." "One would think you hadn't any heart." Philip did not confesa the peculiar charra this woman's very coldness had for him; thero was some quality in it that was irreBistibly exciting to his nature. Perhaps it was the presenco of an unconscious reserve of passion, never yet rovealed, that he feit in her, that kept his heart ever warm, and his eyes ,ever tender for its unveiling. The round faced servant girl had come up from the kitchen, and stood awkwardly at the door. "Yes, you may light the gas now, Annie; we are going out. " She laid her hand lightly on Philip's arm as they went down the walk. "I must really have a maid. That Annie is too clumsy for me to endure in the parlor or dining room. Oh, yes, I prohably have got a heart ; sumo time it wiU frighteh you, perhaps." They walked slowly along the Street, passing the very spot where Tommie Bowler had offered his poor littlo all to Jane Graves onlv an hour or two ago. Their feet trod carelcssly on the bits of grass the nervous lover had scattered along the path. "But you haven't told me about the meeting. Did tho agitator have auburn curls, as . I said? That is the deai"est idea 1 have got of a hero." As ho told her his adventure they reached the ruin and went in The moonlight pourwi through thë dismantlod roof, nd made a white track for itself over the unoven Hoor, leaving the rest of tho interior in the sliadow. Such as remainccl of the tallen raf tors made convenjent bene). for visitors, who migbt easily enongh imagino themsalvt in some old world ruin. An tho young nnll owner'ï sou and Bertha, the hem of whose garment had never touched poverty, seatd tbeinselvtts whore manya peuniless young fellovv haii wooed some pretty weaver maid to share hls destitution, all for love - soon starved out of both their lives. Philipfelt all his last nighfs enthusiasm coming, over him agaln, as hedescrihed the meeting of the hopeless poor and the life of the faraily that had taken him int He seemed to be again thrilled with Curran' eloquence as he pictured his noble presenc-e, and tried to repeat his vivid sentences. Was Bertha listening so patiently to him or only iilly watching the shadows as they shifted with tho moon? He hoped she was touched. She could helphim so much Lo do something for the thousand souls in the milis if there was anything could be done. And then it seemed so sweet tohave an eamest thoughtand hope in commoa - one more bond to unite them. "But wliat can I do, Bertha? It is all so mixed up. Do you suppose my father would listen to me? But if he would, what can I propose? If I teil him the peoplo are poor and unhappy, ha kuows all that. I can't ask him to divide all his wealth with them; tbat wouldn't last so many very long,, and then be couldn't omploy them any more - they would bespoiled for work, and we would all starve together." "I wisb I could see him," saidi the girl slowly. . He lookaV at her blankly. "Why?" Suddenly a doublé tread of f OBt without, an'l tbo forms of two men, ont much taller than the rtüer, blocked the doorway. "Hush, thun," whispered Philip excitedly. "There ho stands." The men ca me f orward till they stood directly in the path of the moonlight, whicb seemed to clothö them with its sil ver sheeo. No need totell lier which was he; the girl' bent eagerly foi"wnrd and fixed her eyes on the majestie figure thnt stood with folded, arms. "I am Ttery late," began shorter man. apologética] ly. Curran did not reply, and tha man went en in a minuto more. "What i the newsí I want to peport your nllage, you know." "There is no news. It is tho same old story. What is the good of reporting and reporting, and then doing nothing?" The words escaped betweeu his teeth like the staccato tones ef a cornet. "1 ara sick of the ord 'wait;' it is the resource of the weak." "But we are weak. Give us time." Curran unfolded his arms with a gestureof impatience. "The injustice has got. its growth; it has fattened on our flesh and blood, and sucked ort the life of untold generations before us." His eyes shone Cercèly on the man of eaution. "I believe tho time has come to destroy it, and the crime of murder lief at our conscinr"j for every crushed soul sacrifleed fox our di.iy." Philip fancied Bertha trembledL "But," began the stranger, in tho metallic voipe oL the objector, "the oilicers oí the league think tho laborers are not ready." "No, nor will they ever bo; they havo submitted too long. But they are always good for action if somebody will lead them. They hang on our lips, but we do uot speak." "Yes, we are spreading intelligence, sending out oratoi"s like you ; we aro arranging political campaigns. By and by capital will be more reasonable." "Do you fancy then," retorted Curran, bitterly, "that the rich will willingly open their coffers to tho logical workman, out of whose earnings they have filled them? Isn't it too delightf ui to be able to build a palace for a home, and créate another paradise for a garden; to marry off their sons and daughters when the first coo of love trembles on their young lips? Then will they divide," and he raised his voice with terrible emphasis, "when there ís no escape írom it. As long as the people submit, if it be till the trump of doom, so long the lords and masters wlll defraud them of the price of their labor; so long their wives and daughters will look down complacently on the suLforings of the million, one of whom starves for every piece of finery they smile to wear." Philip feit Bertha tremble again, but her eyes nevêr once wavered. "What do you-propose?" "I dou't know," muttered Curran, turning his head half away, "butwhen I seethesilent raging in the hearfcs of the poor, when I see the riches squeezed out of their scant, ill fed blood, I am rnad with impatience. But I sapposo all great changes oomë most beneficently if t!iey are slow. Then thero are no heart sickening reactions. Come out into the open air. Itseems close here." The two men went out and the indistinct murmur of their voices was all that could be heard. "How do yqu like my hero?" said Philip, pleased that Bertha should have a chance to learn from the same source whence ho had been so stirred. Now, she could sympathize perfectly with hirn, in tho new idea that he feit must have such a great influence over his Ufa "Ho is coming back," she whispered breathlessly, "alone." Curran looked in astonishment at two figures starting toward him out of tho shadows. He recognized them at once. "Well, I hope you may have learned some useful truths," he said scornfully, looking the young man full in the face. Bertha's lip quivered, and she came close to him in the moonlight and laid her white hand on his arm. "We did not mean to overhear your secrets," she said earnestly; "but surely it could do no harm to listen to such beautiful words. They seemed to be wasted on the one you meant them for." Philip looked at Bertha in startled surprise; he hardly knew her; then he glanced at Curran, whoso curled lip softened its stern lines. The 'girl's bonnet had fallen back onher neck, and her face was turned up toward his in the perfection of graceful entreaty, her big blue eyes showing dark in the evening. The agitator glanced at her sparkling diamonds, and therich lace shawl that lay over her shoulders, then back into the beautiful upturned face, and at last his eyes feil before hers. His bolrïness was gone; his scorn and rontempt for the romen of the rich changed to timidity before her. "Don't distress yourself, my dear lady," he Raid at last; "thera is no harm done, I am sure." As his tensa mood relaxed, the charm that liad so transformed the girl seemed broken, and sbe rtrew hack as if in surprise ut tiading herself so miar him. The walk homo was a silent ono, t.ill almost the end. "Do you know wbat I am going to do toraorrow, Bertha? Iatn going to pat on the old clothes again." "Don't yon it rather boyish?" "I'm in earnest this tirne. I am going to learn how to inake cloth, and 6nd out just how hard the worlt is. and just how - why Bertha, are you yawning?" They hal reaehed the doorway. She)ooked very sweet, eren wheti smothering a yawn wifh her two tingers, as sbe stood on the step abovo him, and gazed off on tb Tiver. His foolish heart begai to bent. "Bertliü, we are uut at the saw mili now, and" She smiled. "Rnt yon were not to say anything if I let you takp me therp, and I have let you, haveu't IV' "But aren't yo ever going consent to" 'There," she stampcd her foot pfayfully. "Vou aro almost ïreaking your promise;" thon sh looked at his reproachful face and let him take her hand and kiss it. "You know there is a sort of solemnity in the kind of business like talk you want so much. But Hl promise this: if you will be patiënt for jijst one month, you eau say what you please to me." Philip went off in great glee, and his horse Joe could not leap too' high to suit him, for what Bertha had said was almost what he asked. One month from today - that would be a Friduy early in the morning. CHAPTER VI. A IAÏ OFF. Graves was putting od her hat and faded plaid shawl for another dreary day's work She batod it with all the passion of her nature. She saw nothing in it but slavery and degradation, and in her impatience thought she would rather die than drag out her life thus. Somebody must do the work, but not such as she, surely. "Come here. my dear." Sho had been lingering aimlessly, only that she dreaded to turn her f eet toward the factory, whpse tolling bell rang. sternly in her ears. ■ Now sho approaohed her mother's bed with a gentier expression on her face. The thin hands were laid on her arm, and the sick woman drew the girl's head down on tho pillow bcside her own. "Was I ever so pretty as yotv I wonder?" Bhö said wistiuUy. "They used to say I was the prettiest i n the village. " And the sunken pyes brightened at sweet memories, the sweetest in the world to a woman. "It did you little good, mother," said tlje girl in a mufflod voice. Jn a moment more she started up "There, inother, I am lateagain: a quarter day's pay Tost, and a scolding gained." Tho bick woman's eyes opened wide, and the girl waited one sad minute more, to see how terribly white the poor face looked even against her pillow. "Í had something to say, I thought," said tho womau eagerly, "but I can't remember, I am so sick. But perhaps it wasn't anything. You may go now, dear; I am sorry I kept you." The girl pinned her shawl about her. What good of looking in the glass? It could only teil her she was pretty, as her mother used to be, and remind her what a fooi she was to expeot a difïeront fate. Fifteen years, and she might bo sick and broken on this very bed, perhapa telling her own unhappy child how pretty she used to be. The girl shuddored at tho picture as she went out of her mother's room. "Oh! I remember now," called the sick woman. "Did you want the tea put near you?" asked the girl, coming back wearily. "It is not that- but- but you are not to go to work today. Somebody is coming to see you. He wants you to live with him." "What, to marry me?" exclainied the girl in astonishment "He didn't speak of that," smiled her mother, languidly, "but I can't talk any more, I am so tired." Jane Graves had learned one lesson of poverty, not to hope. So after this strauge announcement, of her mother's she otily laid off her hat and shawl, and waited. After looking idly out of the window for a while, and seeing nothing that had not worn itself into her vcry soul years ago, the vague woman instinct stirred in her and she moved about the house arranging things, She found a little map that in the sitting foom a little awry and straightened it. It was a dingy map of China that had como once with a pound of tea, and she wanted to throw it flway, but the wall lookod too bare without anything. She took down a couple of ugly little gift chromos her father had placed on the mantelpiece and tore them up in disgust. There seemed nothing else to do, there was so littlo to arrange. She wasn't so sure but it was bettcr in the mili - perhaps it was a blessing the poor were kept so many hours in its grim walls, where at least there was but little chance to think. What was there to long for in such homes and such leisure as this? She stepped to the closet and took out a well thumbed book and sat down. She turned two or three pages, and then counted how many times she had read them before, and she feit sick with the foolish hopes and dreams the of t read book had used to wake in hor. She laid it away with a sigh and picked up an old newspaper. How slow the forenoon went. She read down the advertising columns. How manybeautiful things in the world, and all for salel Somebody must have the mpney to buy them or the stores wouldn't be running. Where was it all? Did anybody work any for it than her father and herself? Jane Graves opened her little pocketbook and shookit over the table; but it was as einpty as the day she bought it. Then there carne a light tap on the street door. This must be the "gentleman," this tall, elegant figure in a cbecked summer suit; and he actually lifted his hat to her. "My name is ElHngsworth." Ho needn't have told her; he had .figurod in the girPs fancy. for years as the ver.y impersonation of rank and wealth. "I called about a maid. Mr. Graves gave me leave to speak with his daughter Is, she in?" "I suppose I am the one. Will you come in?" She watched him as he crossed the room to the nearest chair. How much lighter he walked than she could; and one might have thought f rom his unconsciousness thathe had been used to just such a miserable room as this all his life. He showed no surprise at her being tho prospectivo maid servant; no doubt ho knew it all the time, and the way he spoke was only a part of his good manners. But then she could not imagine his showing surprise at anything. 'There wil! be but little to do," Mr. Ellingsworth continued, looking at her face and not seeming to see how ill she was dressed. 'Thero is only my daughter; you may have seen her, yes? and myself. The wages will be small," and he named' them and smiled apologetically, as if he expectèd her to decline. "Your father spoke to me as if you did not liko the factories." Out at service; well, why not? Could it be any more degrading than the life she lived? and such wages, too. Why, she could dress quite prettily then; and her girlish haart flultcred. And she could leave ugly things and rude people, and breat'.íe perfumes and have only gracef ui surroundings ; what matter if thoy were not hers? She would be lifted right up in tho very ntmosphere she longed for. Yesterday she had envied the Ellingsworths, to-morrow she could share their beautiful life with them. Why not? She lifted her bright eyes to his face. It was in half prolïle at this moment, and she could seo his hair was just touched with gray. How could men in this world ever grow old? He was smooth shaved, showing in full effect the delicate, eynical curve of his thin lip and tho clearly defined outlines of his chin. He must have been very oddly affected by the poverty pictured so unmistakably about him; but there was not the smallest sign of it on his well bred face. , "I will go," she said abruptly; "when do you want me?" "I shall be away for a fortnight," he said, rising, with his own admirable smile. "You can come wheu I return. " She rose too; but could think of nothing proper to say. But how poverty stricken she would look in her factory clothes. Her spirits had fallen already. "By the way," Mr. Ellingsworth turned, as if a sudden business item had struck him. It was a peculiar expressionless monotone he used sometimes when on delicate subjects that seemed to have as little personal quality as a printed page. "I always pay in advance; be kind enough to accept your first month's wages and our bargain will be closed." The girl found herself alone, looking at the crisp, fresh looking bank bilis ho had placed in her hands. "How thoughtful these rich people are. They have time for it, I suppose." Her wardrobo was very simple. There hung over the back of the chair the dull check of a merino, chosen long ago to endure the most service with the least show of it. On the bureau beforo the mirror was a paper box holding a discarded ribbon or two, pink or cardinal, and two or three pieces of cheap jewelry tho girl was too proud to wear. "It won't take me long to pack," she said aloud. She suddenfy took a pretty attitude of listening. ShO had closed the door into thé sick chamber in a moment more and stood in the middle of the sitting room when Curran carne in. "Why, you don't look very sick, Jennie. I have to walk to Lockout by 8 o'clock, but thought I would look iii just a minuto." "I am going to leave the mili." How preoccupied ho seemed to-night. "I am going to leave the mili, Mr. Curran," the girl repeated with beating heart. He might not like her new plan, and at the very thought oí v his di approval she feit all her bright hopes taking to themselves wings; and tho old dreary picture of factory gates and soiled calicó dresses came back. "Going away, little girl?" He seemed to Epeak with a slight effort, as if his mind was not on what ho said. "Well, I suppose you can't be any worse off, but we shall miss you." And was that all he had to say when he thought she was going forever out of his life -had he no reproaches for her? "I am not going far," she bogan hurriedly. "There would be no use going far." He had seated himself on the other sido of the tablo f rom her, and rested his face on his hand. "It is just the samo everywhere. Wherever there are a thousand souls ten will grind tho rest. I don't suppose the rich mean to be so u just, not all of them; they don't stop to notice that they are getting all the good things in the world. It uever occurs to them to wouder wby the greatf earth seems to produce only for them." Jane Graves sat back in her chair, her hands crossed in her lap. "Why didn't he talk about her just a little? She looked np at nis absorbed face wistfully. "Why, Jcunie, sometimes I get so tired trying to 'stand up against it all, so sick oí my own heartache, that I can make nobody share with nue." He had risen to his feet and was walking moodily across the room. That very night ho must pour out all the precious energy of his soul into dull, stolid ears, that seemed so slow to understand. A hall f uil of strange faces would look up coldly at him, and his hot words would be quenched as they feil from his lips, in tho unmoved depths of their hearts. It seemed so vain, all ho could do or say, and he feit so tired to-nigut, longing, instead, to rest his head on some gentle breast, and bo soothod with some foolish words of comfort and tenderness. The girl had risen, too, and stood resting f,ho back of her hand on the table. But her eyes dared not lift to his. Sho tried to speak, and her lips tremblod so that her voice came stiange and unfamiliar. "lam sorry for you. Isthere no one, no woman?" she half whispered. "Women do not care for such as I," he said, smiling a little bitterly. "They love light and pleasant things. I am too serious. I should only f righton them ; they could not nnderstand. " Then he camo toward her with asofter light in his eyes. "You aro a good littlo girl, Jennie." He had taken her trembling hands, which only trembled the more. "I shall miss you very much. What is the trouble with your eyes, Jennie, you can't look at me? I am going DOW." Then slle raised her eyes, like lightning, to his face. "Oh, let me comfort you," she cried. "I would die for you. I will ask nothing back but a smilo now and then. Nobody can ever love you like me." His face was troubled, but cold and impassive as rock. He still held her hands, as she sank in a heart breaking flood of tears at his feet. After a moment he bent down in pity, and gathered her trembling form in his arms. How the sobs seemed to shake her. He smoothed back her wavy hair from the low forehead, and even kissed her wet chceks. But all he said was : "Poor little girl, poor littlo Jennie." For an instant she lay still as a nestling ehild. Then she sprang back from him, and fled into her mothers room, and wept and moaned for shame and heartache, until the calm of weariiiess came over her, as nature's blessed gift to her hopeless children. l'tO BE CONTIXTTED.5