THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES '

 
 
 " Gowl-bye, mother; <u.w don't you fret about me at all.'
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 A TRUE STORYt 
 
 BY MRS. M. L. RAYNE. 
 
 CHICAGO: 
 
 W. B. KEEN, COOKE & CO. 
 1876.
 
 COPYRIGHT. 
 
 A. D. 1876. 
 
 Lakebide Press, Chicago.
 
 ?s 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 Our INTO THE WORLD 5 
 
 .CHAPTER II. 
 SWEET HOME 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 CHICAGO 22 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 HUNTING A SITUATION 33 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION 42 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 "ONLY A SHOP GIRL" 49 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 IN THE TOILS 55 
 
 CHAPTER VIII- 
 REUBEN HARLOW 62 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 THANKSGIVING DAY _ 70 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY.. 79 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 THE CLUB HOUSE.. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 MRS. MONROE'S HUSBAND 102 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS 110 
 
 (3) 
 
 894430
 
 4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A FEATHER HE DID NOT WEAR.. .................. 126 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 ON THE BRINK ............... ..................... 185 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 TANGLED THREADS ___ ______ ........... .. ........... 144 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 MARGARET'S STORY .................... ............ 156 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 OVER ............................................ 165 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 THE RETURN HOME ........ ..- ................. .. 172 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 REAPING THE REWARD _____ ....................... 179 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 LOST AND FOUND ............ . .................... . 187 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 THE NARROW PATH ............................... 191 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 THE GOSPEL OP PEACE ......... .................... 200 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 IN SOLEMN CONCLAVE ____ ......... ... ..... . ....... 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE .......................... 220 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 THE GOSPEL OF GUSH ___________ ................. 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 VIRTUE PROTECTED ... .......................... ._ 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 NOTHING BUT LEAVES.. . 248
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 CHAPTEK I. 
 
 OUT INTO THE WORLD. 
 
 "How shall it be with her, the tender stranger, 
 
 Fair-faced and gentle-eyed, 
 
 Before whose unstained feet the world's rude highway 
 Stretches so strange and wide?" 
 
 OOD-BYE, Mother! Now don't you 
 fret about me at all. I shall write 
 often and tell you just how I get 
 And may be I'll come home at Christ 
 mas. You shall have a new dress for a present, 
 if I don't come. I am going to save my money 
 on purpose. I^ow don't cry, please, there's a 
 dear good mother. It will all come out right." 
 " I hope it may, Jennie," answered the mother, 
 sadly ; " but, oh dear ! I've never slept a night 
 (5) 
 
 along.
 
 6 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 without you under the same roof, and if anything 
 should happen it would break my heart. It does 
 seem to me that I shall never have you back 
 again, the Jennie T see before me. Somehow I 
 mistrust that woman you are going to. I wish 
 we knew more about her. She has promised 
 well, I know, but will she keep her promises ? " 
 " It will not take long to decide that, mother ! " 
 " Yes ; and I suppose it will be better than 
 going into a store ; but oh, it does seem as 
 though I cannot give you up ! " 
 
 Mrs. Armstrong looked at her daughter, and 
 it required all the stern discipline of her reserved 
 nature to keep her from breaking down utterly, 
 as she parted with her only child, fearing in her 
 heart, she knew not what evil, poor woman ! She 
 had fallen into the useless habit of looking on 
 the dark side of everything, which was no very 
 surprising circumstance, considering that her 
 blessings all came in disguise ; even this pre 
 cious child, growing from lovely girlhood into 
 lovelier womanhood, had always been a source 
 of exquisite sorrow. How to get enough to 
 clothe her comfortably, to give her even an 
 ordinary education, to surround her with the
 
 OUT INTO THE WORLD. 7 
 
 smallest and poorest luxuries a few of the 
 many little pleasures which young girls crave 
 this had been the end and aim of the mother's 
 existence. Herself a disappointed woman, she 
 had struggled hard to gain for Jennie something 
 of all she had missed. She had tried and failed. 
 Many nights the mother had lain awake schem 
 ing and planning for Jennie, while the girl slept 
 and found in rosy dreams a compensation for 
 the day's losses. 
 
 " You haven't half enough clothes," continued 
 Mrs. Armstrong, looking wistfully at the little 
 red leather trunk on the stoop. "That merino 
 is worn so thin it didn't make over very well, and 
 the plush cape looks faded; but the brown rep is 
 as good as new. That will wear all winter com 
 fortably. Did your father give you any money ?" 
 This last was asked in an eager whisper, with a 
 wistful glance toward the tall, solemn looking 
 man who was harnessing a rickety horse into a 
 more rickety wagon, preparatory to taking his 
 daughter to the depot. 
 
 "No," answered the girl in a low tone, 
 reddening slowly as she spoke. She hated the 
 name of money, for it represented to her all
 
 8 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 mean and sordid make-shifts ! If she could only 
 have a room full of it, she would be happy ; but 
 these crumbs from the table bah ! 
 
 " Well ! here are two dollars," said Mrs. Arm 
 strong, " all I have in the world. Perhaps your 
 father will give you a little more, and you must 
 be careful of it, dear, for I'm sure I don't know 
 where the next is coming from !" 
 
 As Jennie had never received a shilling in her 
 life, without a table of instructions added, this 
 caution was unnecessary. She took the money 
 in a thankless sort of way and crushed it into 
 the palm of her cotton glove. She wanted to 
 throw it down, trample upon it and make it 
 feel how lightly she esteemed it, the miserable 
 paltry sum ! A very human girl, this one, 
 you see ! 
 
 But she saw the tearful face of that dear, good 
 mother, who had stood like a wall of defense 
 between her and life ever since she entered it, 
 and now she was going out into the great beau 
 tiful world without her ! It seemed so ungrate 
 ful after all that mother had done. 
 
 And sobbing as she had not done since a child, 
 Jennie clung about her mother's neck, kissing
 
 OUT INTO THE WORLD. 9 
 
 and clasping her in a straining embrace. Then 
 she climbed over the high wheel into the old 
 wagon and took her place by her father's side ; 
 the gaunt old horse started off, and they were 
 gone ! 
 
 But the girl looked back with such genuine 
 sorrow for the miserable home she was leaving, 
 it was a wonder she did not share the fate of 
 that tragic woman perpetuated in salt. As she 
 looked she saw through the crystal of her tears, 
 that her mother was hurrying after her, holding 
 out a small book. 
 
 " You forgot it, Jennie, dear," she said as she 
 came up almost breathless from the unusual 
 exertion of running. " I found it on the bed 
 where you had overlooked it." 
 
 A frown ruffled the low, smooth brow of the 
 girl, and the pretty tremulous lips contracted 
 pettishly, but she* took the little volume and 
 squeezed the thin hand of her mother lovingly. 
 
 "Read it often, Jennie, dear; you will find 
 peace and comfort there when all else fails. I 
 have marked some comforting words m the 
 Epistle of St. John." 
 
 " I hear the train, Mary," interrupted Mr.
 
 10 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 Armstrong. " Women never know when to let 
 well enough alone. Get up," said he to his 
 horse ; "look out there for the wheel," turning 
 to his wife, and they started on. 
 
 " Good-bye, Jennie, darling ; be a good girl, 
 and write home often." These were the last 
 homely words of the sorrowing mother. 
 
 Jennie soon dried her eyes the tears of youth 
 are easily exhausted and began to speculate on 
 the probable events of her journey to Chicago, 
 and the improbable happiness of the bright 
 future that awaited her there. The little book 
 in her lap slid down into the bottom of the 
 wagon and lay there unnoticed. She was think 
 ing of all the fine sights she would see, the money 
 she would have, the books she could read, the 
 dresses she would wear. Her eyes grew bright, 
 her cheeks red, her lips smiled and she sat like 
 an enchanted Hebe beside her taciturn father, 
 and had traveled miles in imagination when they 
 stopped at the dingy depot. 
 
 But the mother had gone back to the house 
 had entered the little, disorderly, ill fitted bed 
 room now drearily vacant, and had thrown her 
 self on her knees beside the empty bed and with
 
 OUT INTO THE WORLD. II 
 
 her face buried in her check apron, was lighting 
 a battle to the death ! 
 
 There were two other girls at the depot wait 
 ing for the coming train. They were school 
 mates and companions of Jennie's, and were now 
 looking for her with much solicitude, as the 
 three were going together to seek their fortunes 
 in the city. One had been a teacher of the dis 
 trict school in the next township for the last 
 year, and expected to obtain a situation in the 
 public schools of Chicago at a better remunera 
 tion. The other was a bright girl, who had 
 assisted her widowed mother by clerking in the 
 one general store the place being post office, 
 dry goods shop, and grocery combined. She 
 hoped to realize more money, and see something 
 of the world. These two, Lucia Winne and Eva 
 Bartlett, were surrounded by their friends, who 
 had come to see them off, and as they heard the 
 whistle of the fast-nearing train they watched 
 anxiously for Jennie Armstrong, fearing that she 
 would be left. But just at the last moment the 
 old horse reached the platform and Jennie sprung 
 out. 
 
 " I was sure you would miss the train," said
 
 12 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 Eva, running up to her, " and that would have 
 been too bad ; we want to start with even luck. 
 Here is the train now. I must say good-bye to 
 them all," and she ran back to the group at the 
 door. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong kissed his daughter after the 
 fashion of men in parting with the dearest 
 objects of their affections. He neither cried nor 
 looked concerned, but, it is to be presumed that 
 he felt quite as badly as though he had. 
 
 As the train started he stood silent and apart 
 from the rest, a cold, misanthropic man, watch 
 ing with eyes that no tear dimmed, this farewell 
 of his only child, "sole daughter of his house 
 and heart." He saw the three young faces at 
 the car windows thought how much fairer 
 Jennie's was than the others, yet, they were 
 pretty girls, too ; and then as the cars faded 
 away in the distance he roused himself with a 
 sigh, wondering why any of them had ever been 
 born. 
 
 But the three girls had no dark forebodings. 
 They knew naught of the curse of a granted 
 prayer !
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 SWEET HOME. 
 
 'These are the hopes, that one by one 
 Died, even as we gave them birth ! " 
 
 HEN the cars bearing the three girls 
 had passed quite out of sight, the 
 ^ group on the platform dispersed. Mr. 
 Armstrong untied the old horse which was nib 
 bling the scant autumn grass at halter length, 
 and soon the three dilapidated structures man, 
 horse, and vehicle were jogging back on the 
 way home. They were nearly there when sud 
 denly a man stepped out from a farm -gate by 
 the roadside, and approached Mr. Armstrong 
 with a decided gesture, commanding him to 
 stop, which he did, waiting without a change 
 of countenance for what was coming. 
 
 The man who approached was young, of slen 
 der, wiry frame, and with a pale, intelligent face, 
 (13)
 
 14 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 denoting a superabundance of nervous force. 
 His black hair was in strange contrast to his 
 pale blue eyes that glowed with anger or passion 
 of some kind. His lips were thin and com 
 pressed. He placed one foot on the wheel hub, 
 and grasped the old box seat with w r hite, slender 
 fingers that looked very unlike a farmer lad's. 
 
 " So Jennie 's gone, has she ?" he began, look 
 ing hard at Mr. Armstrong, " and not so much 
 as said good-bye to me. I didn't expect or 
 deserve such treatment as that, Mr. Armstrong. 
 Were you afraid to let me know she was going 
 off yonder ? There 's some difference between 
 being an honest man's wife, and receiving the 
 love and care of a whole lifetime, and being a 
 stranger in that place of temptation and sin. 
 Maybe she will find it out, too." 
 
 " I am sorry," answered Mr. Armstrong, in his 
 cold, passionless voice ; " but Jennie does n't 
 know her own mind. It isn't my fault that 
 she will not be your wife, Reuben. She does 
 not care for you, nor any one else in that way." 
 
 " She did care for me, you know she did, before 
 that fine scamp from the city came up here to 
 break his neck how I wish he had ! and have
 
 SWEET HOME. 15 
 
 her wait on him. She always loved me, and has 
 told me so a thousand times. You know it, Mr. 
 Armstrong, and you were quite willing she should 
 marry me before that fellow came ! And now 
 she 's gone where she "11 find him, and she '11 be 
 lost to you and to me 
 
 " Stop !" said Mr. Armstrong, sternly; "Jennie 
 is a child ! She is % too young to marry any man, 
 or know what love means. She has gone to Chi 
 cago to earn her living honestly. I 'm in debt 
 over head and ears. There ain't enough picking 
 for one on that old worn-out farm. A young 
 girl wants a heap of things that you and I know 
 nothing about, and when Mrs. Monroe wrote 
 and offered Jennie this situation in her family, 
 it seemed the best thing for her. We are as poor 
 as poverty ; there ain't no discounting that, and 
 if anything happened to me, they could n't earn 
 their salt here. I can 't argue with you any fur 
 ther, Harlow, but that 's the truth of the matter. 
 If Jennie 's disappointed you, I 'm sorry; but she 
 has never told me anything. She's only just 
 stopped playing with dolls, and would make a 
 poor show at housekeeping, I 'm thinking." 
 
 The young man drew back as the horse moved
 
 1 6 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 on in obedience to a touch from the whip. "And 
 I loved her so,'' he muttered, " and that infernal 
 rascal has succeeded in getting her away. "What 
 a drivelling old dolt her father is, not to see 
 through him ! " 
 
 He turned away with a white face and clenched 
 hands, a desperate man, all for the sake of one 
 baby-faced girl, who, at that moment, had forgot 
 ten his existence. 
 
 Mr. Armstrong went home and put out the 
 old horse. As he ran the wagon into its shed 
 he saw the little book lying in the bottom. He 
 picked it up and opened it at the fly-leaf. There 
 was a tender inscription by the mother's hand, 
 written only yesterday. He could not bear to 
 tell her that Jennie had forgotten it. " I reckon 
 she did n't want it," he said. And after all, what 
 wonder ! How can the bounding heart of youth 
 take hold on the precious words of St. John ? 
 Later, what tender balm they are to the weary, 
 wounded heart. 
 
 "Did she go off cheerful like?" asked Mrs. 
 Armstrong, as her husband entered the kitchen. 
 Her voice was shaky and her eyes suspiciously 
 red.
 
 SWEET HOME. I/ 
 
 " Cheerful enough," answered the man. ' " I 
 guess she won't be sorry of the change. Its 
 mighty nice riding around the country, making 
 wreaths of autumn leaves, and drawing trees and 
 rocks on white paper ; but grubbing among the 
 same for a living, and not getting it, is a different 
 thing. I 'm sick enough of it for my part." 
 
 His wife did not answer him. lie had been 
 an unsuccessful lawyer, an unsuccessful politi 
 cian, and a still more unsuccessful farmer. It 
 was the man, not the luck that was wrong. 
 He had lost friends, reputation, and money ; but 
 his wife was his for richer or poorer, for better 
 or worse. 
 
 " I saw Harlow," he said presently, " and he 
 seemed cross and disappointed about Jennie. 
 She never told him when she was going, or said 
 good-bye. Seems to me she did n't do just right. 
 Reuben has done a good deal for her." 
 
 " He is too tyrannical and stormy," said his 
 wife. "The very way in which he loves Jennie 
 would make her unhappy. She has always loved 
 him as a brother, but she will never care for him 
 in any other way." 
 
 " You don't think Jennie cared for that Ross 
 2
 
 1 8 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 Farnham, do you?" asked Mr. Armstrong, slowly, 
 with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if he were 
 reciting a lesson. 
 
 " I have not thought much about it, Rich 
 ard. He paid her a great deal of attention 
 when he got well, but there was no love- 
 making. I know that it is through his in 
 fluence Mrs. Monroe has sent for Jennie. What 
 a splendid thing it would be if it should turn 
 out in that way." 
 
 " Well, I do n't know. Twenty years ago, Mary, 
 your father would have set his dog on Farnham's 
 father if he had presumed to cross the door-sill. 
 The son is a gentleman and not a charlatan, but I 
 reckon he 's got some of his father's tastes. Still, 
 money and education do a vast deal for one in 
 this world, and he 's young. Farnham 's worth 
 a million and we are not worth a cent. But you 
 see, Ross Farnham can choose from among the 
 young ladies of his own society. What chance 
 would our little girl have against them ?" 
 
 ' Such tilings have happened before," replied 
 the mother. " Jennie has beauty there 's no 
 harm in Saying that and she is well educated. 
 She would pick up accomplishments easily, and
 
 SWEET HOME. 19 
 
 she is the lovingest little thing in the world," 
 concluded this loyal heart. 
 
 "Well! I don't see exactly with your eyes, 
 Mary," answered her husband. " I am afraid 
 that when Jennie sees the city ladies in their 
 fine feathers, it will make her look very poor and 
 dowdy." 
 
 Poor and dowdy ! the mother felt as if it 
 were blasphemy to speak in this way of her 
 absent darling. At the same time the words 
 brought with them a comforting assurance that 
 in the great Garden City her little wild flower 
 might be overlooked by evil eyes. Better be 
 a daisy than a rose, when the king-bee comes 
 to woo. 
 
 The old couple old through disappointment 
 and care and hard labor, rather than through 
 years sat down to supper alone for the first 
 time. The table ware was of the poorest and 
 plainest, and so was the fare. If there was no 
 out-spoken sentiment of love between the two, 
 there was respect and harmony, whicli are often 
 more enduring. They had been lovers, but pov 
 erty and sorrow had come between the two so 
 often with their spectral faces, they had fright-
 
 20 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 ened love away at least, the love that expresses 
 itself in endearment and sentiment. 
 
 " She must be nearly there by this time," said 
 the mother, looking up at the clock. 
 
 "I reckon she is if there hasn't been any 
 accident to the train," responded Mr. Arm 
 strong. 
 
 Accident to the train ! The mother's heart 
 stood still a moment, then a silent prayer went 
 up to God for her darling's protection. Strange ! 
 that she should pray. She had asked and not 
 received all her lifetime ; had wrestled for her 
 treasures as fervently as ever Jacob did, and 
 they had vanished from her grasp while she 
 sought to keep them. Why should she pray ? 
 Does the Infinite God ever change any of His 
 plans because His creatures beseech Him in 
 anguish, on their knees ? And if her darling 
 should be brought back to her white and still, 
 the young life expelled in a moment from its 
 transient home to return to Him who gave it, 
 would it not be something to thank Him for ? 
 Could not selfish love say, "She has escaped all 
 I have suifered. She has gone without sin or 
 sorrow to wear her crown!" Ah, dear Lord ! we
 
 SWEET HOME. 
 
 21 
 
 are human ! It was the man after God's own 
 heart who beat his breast and cried, " Would 
 God I had died for thee."
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
 " Man made the town." 
 
 T was only a six hours' ride, but many a 
 long journey has been less important. 
 The three girls were delighted with 
 everybody and everything they saw. It was 
 like going into a new world, to leave their 
 quiet country homes, and see so many new faces 
 and new sights. Lucia was the sober one of 
 the trio, and kept the others within check, with 
 out at all dampening their pleasure, which was 
 almost riotous. 
 
 It seemed to Jennie that they never would get 
 through the streets and past the houses, all jum 
 bled together, and into the depot, where they were 
 greeted by a noisy gang of hackmen who stood 
 
 in a row at the head of the stairs, for all the world 
 
 (22)
 
 CHICAGO. 23 
 
 like a lot of school-boys in a class, each one de 
 claiming his piece at the top of his voice. 
 
 " What will become of us if your brother is n't 
 here, Lucia," said Eva, half ready to cry, "three 
 lone, lorn, unprotected females. Do let us pull 
 our veils over our faces and make believe we are 
 vinegar-faced and ancient." 
 
 " Let me assume my Boston manner," said 
 Lucia. " Now where are my reading glasses. 
 There ! I am equal to a whole community of hack- 
 men. Now, young ladies, follow me." 
 
 But the persistent hackmen closed around the 
 girls, and continued to bawl out their noisy litera 
 ture of travel into their stunned ears, until it 
 seemed to Jennie as if she had never in her life 
 been so frightened and bewildered. A thousand 
 men seemed to be pointing their whips at her, 
 and shouting " Right this way for the Tremont 
 House Grand Pc-fic 'tel, this way, Miss; take 
 yer to any place yer wants to go. This way for 
 the Sherman 'Ouse. Get out Bill, these ladies 
 belong to me. 'Mercial Hotel carriage right here. 
 Palmer House, did you say, Miss ? " By this 
 time the crowd had thinned out to about a dozen, 
 but they impudently blocked the way, and Lucia
 
 24 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 was ordering them, in her most authoritative 
 schoolma'm manner to allow them to pass, when 
 Jennie cried out " There 's your brother Albert, 
 Lucia ! " A young man at once stepped forward, 
 and the girls joined in a chorus of delight. He 
 kissed Lucia, and shook hands heartily with the 
 other two girls. 
 
 " Oh, Albert, those horrid men ! Do send them 
 away," cried Lucia. But they all disappeared 
 like magic when they saw the gentleman. 
 
 " I could not imagine what they were shouting 
 at," said Mr. Winne, laughing; " they completely 
 hid you from view. I expect they were looking 
 for a rich harvest from you little country girls." 
 
 " You ought to have seen Lucia, Mr. Winne," 
 said Jennie, " I think she was going to read her 
 diploma to them. I never saw anything so funny 
 in my life." 
 
 " Well, Miss Jennie, you may prepare for a suc 
 cession of wonderful surprises from now hence 
 forth. Everything here is on a magnificent scale. 
 We take the most exaggerated views of all things. 
 But come into the reception room while I look 
 after your baggage. You will all go home with 
 me."
 
 " A tluiuxand 'i/mn seemed to be pointing their whips at 
 r:' Page 23.
 
 CHICAGO. 25 
 
 "Mrs. Monroe promised to meet me," said 
 Jennie, " but there was so much confusion I ex 
 pect she missed me. Of course I should not 
 know her." 
 
 " "Well, I will see that you get there safely to 
 morrow," said Mr. Winne. " Here is the ladies' 
 room. Sit here for a few moments, while I look 
 up your checks." 
 
 The place was dreary and uninviting, and a few 
 weary looking people were waiting in the listless 
 manner that travelers wear. The three girls sat 
 down together, frightened and wondering. Every 
 moment the door opened and some one came in, 
 stared at them, at the closed ticket office, and went 
 out. A young man in a nobby suit of gray, with 
 a blue tie and a- paper collar, leered at them like 
 some grotesque monster, and passed harmlessly 
 out again. Then a rather tall, well-dressed, fash 
 ionable-looking man came in, with an elegant 
 nonchalant air, and an easy, graceful walk. He 
 half raised his hat, in the most respectful manner, 
 as he passed the girls, and bowed slightly, as if 
 deprecating the intrusion. Jennie started up, 
 clasped her hands, and then sank back into her 
 seat. She knew this elegant gentleman, and her
 
 26 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 heart gave a great bound. It was Ross Farnham, 
 and he was looking for her. 
 
 Eva whispered to her, " It 's the gentleman that 
 was at your house last summer. Why do n 't you 
 speak to him ? " 
 
 Speak to him ! She wished herself miles away. 
 Oh! how poor and insignificant she felt. She 
 drew her coarse shawl about her the shawl her 
 mother had robbed herself of to give to her child ; 
 she had thought it so bright and pretty then; 
 now she hated it. She tried to hide the little 
 hands in their cotton gloves under it. Where, 
 now,was her independence of character ; the jaunty 
 insolence, the flash and sparkle of her coquettish 
 beauty ? She was glad Eoss did not know her, and 
 passed her by, and yet there was a strange tremor 
 about her heart. That he should not recognize 
 her was humiliating, too. Then, while she was 
 shrinking back between her companions, he turned 
 and saw her, and came quickly toward her, hold 
 ing out his well-gloved hands with a pleasant 
 effusion of manner. 
 
 " Miss Armstrong! I did not expect to see you 
 with company. I am very glad to welcome you 
 to Chicago. I understood Mrs. Monroe to say
 
 CHICAGO. 27 
 
 you were alone. She sent me down for you, 
 but indeed I am very glad to see you again 
 and to be of service. I have the carriage here, 
 waiting." 
 
 All this time he was shaking hands with that 
 warm, cordial, yet respectful manner peculiar to 
 him. Jennie returned his greeting timidly, with 
 out a shade of the audacious coquetry with which 
 she tormented her rustic admirers. Then she in 
 troduced him to her friends, and he proved to be 
 acquainted with Lucia's brother, Mr. Wiune, 
 who greeted him very coolly, however, when he 
 came, and seemed disposed to insist on retaining 
 Jennie under his protection, at least until the next 
 morning. Ross Farnham would not listen to 
 this, and Jennie made her acjieus, promising to see 
 her friends often; and the carriage rolled away 
 with her seated by the side of Mr. Farnham. 
 
 It was all like Heaven to poor Jennie! The 
 easy luxurious motion of the comfortable equip 
 age, the liveried driver, the gay panorama of city 
 streets all alight, seen now for the first time, the 
 handsome impassioned face opposite, and the 
 pleasant dark eyes that she felt were regarding 
 her with kindly interest! the girl forgot that she
 
 2 8 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 was poor and dowdy; that she had come to Chi 
 cago to be a sort of upper servant; and, leaning 
 back on the brown satin cushions, she took it all 
 in as an enchanted dream. Then the carriage 
 stopped, and Mr. Farnhain assisted her out, and 
 they entered a great handsome hall, with plate 
 glass windows filled with a glittering show of 
 frosted silver, glass, and fruit. There was a long 
 salon, where gentlemen were seated at small ta 
 bles, eating and reading. They passed through 
 the entire length of this to the further end, where 
 ladies and gentlemen were seated together at the 
 tables. Ross Farnham installed Jennie comfort 
 ably before one of the marble stands, and bade 
 the attentive colored waiter furnish the best sup 
 per the place afforded. Jennie was half fright 
 ened, and wholly awed by the splendor about her; 
 by the great glistening chandeliers, all alight with 
 prismatic hues; by the lofty frescoed ceilings, 
 and imposing array of tables, glittering with 
 silver and cut glass; and by the colored attend 
 ants running noiselessly about. Somehow the 
 child grew dazzled and frightened by it all. Ross 
 Farnham saw the look of perplexity on th.e girl's 
 face, and said gently:
 
 CHICAGO. 29 
 
 " I knew you must be hungry, and so brought 
 you here for supper, as it is not at all likely Mrs. 
 Monroe would think to offer you any. And now 
 you must promise to eat," he added, as the waiter 
 appeared with a heavily laden tray. " Here is 
 some tea, strong and hot, and a pot of chocolate, 
 and fried oysters. Do you like them? And French 
 rolls and broiled quail; '' and he helped her 
 daintily. 
 
 " Then this is not Mrs. Monroe's ?" asked Jennie, 
 sipping her chocolate and looking about with very 
 wide open eyes. 
 
 Ross Farnham was delighted with the girl's 
 navoette. "Not exactly," he said, laughing. 
 "Her salle-a-mange is hardly so spacious. This 
 is Thompson's. All the good people come here 
 to eat. There is an odor of sanctity in the very 
 walls." 
 
 " There is an odor of cooking, too," laughed J en- 
 nie, who was growing very much at her ease. " I 
 know one thing I shall miss here, and that is the 
 fresh air ; it is exactly six hours since I have had 
 a mouthful of it." 
 
 " Indeed you will not," answered Ross. " I 
 will take you out to ride where the air is just as
 
 30 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 pure and good as at Newton. I have a bay trot 
 ter that I have reserved for this.'' 
 
 Jennie smiled with a look of intense satisfac 
 tion. She had heard dreadful stories of city life, 
 of young girls enticed away from their country 
 homes, and never heard of again. Of elegant 
 and handsome men who went about in the guise 
 of angels of light, but were fiends of darkness. 
 Of traps set for unwary souls gilded traps, into 
 which they sometimes walked most willingly. 
 She had been so well drilled into terror of all 
 these nameless ills that she felt strong and elate 
 sitting there with her friend, Ross Farnham, to 
 protect her, and all this atmosphere of luxury and 
 respectability about her. She grew chatty and 
 confidential; recalled little incidents of the past 
 summer, when they went harvesting and nutting 
 together, and asked innumerable questions about 
 Mrs. Monroe and her surroundings, and laughed 
 her own cheery laugh. 
 
 Ross Farnham was charmed ! The child did 
 not know her own value; did not know that she 
 was as lovely as an angel. But she did know, by 
 a girl's quick intuition, that she was acceptable 
 to Ross Farnham ; that he did not think her poor
 
 CHICAGO. 31 
 
 or cormtryfied or shabby. He, the elegant man 
 of the world, had spent many an hour willingly 
 in her society, nor had he ever given her a word 
 or a look that was not respectful, while there was 
 ever an undertone of tenderness that set her heart 
 beating wildly. There was that same manner 
 now, as he clasped her coarse shawl about her as 
 though it were the mantle of a princess, and 
 handed her, the little country rustic ! back into 
 the throne-like carriage waiting at the door in 
 the strong gas-light. As she turned to look out 
 a moment into the lighted streets she saw a woman, 
 young, fair, dressed as if for a ball, in silk and 
 lace and glittering jewels. She came out from 
 the shadow and stood a moment gazing at the 
 carriage as it rolled away, and there was such a 
 look of misery and hate on her haggard face, 
 such a revelation of a soul in the throes of moral 
 death, that Jennie turned shuddering away and 
 nestled closer to Ross Farnham for protection. 
 
 In a short time the carriage stopped, and now 
 at a handsome residence on the West Side. 
 
 '- This is Mrs. Monroe's," said Mr. Farnham, 
 as he assisted Jennie from the carriage and accom 
 panied her up the steps. He rang the bell, and
 
 32 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 a servant opened the door. She was expecting 
 them, and at once relieved Jennie of her satchel. 
 
 "Are you coming in, Mr. Farnham?" she asked 
 respectfully. 
 
 " Not to night, Esther; I will see Mrs. Monroe 
 to-morrow. I suppose she is as well as usual."
 
 " She caitte oat from the tslmdow and stood a moment looking 
 at the carriage is it rolled awa,y."P&gc 31.
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 HUNTING A SITUATION. 
 
 VA BAETLETT spent two or three 
 days at Mrs. Winne's with Lucia, and 
 then turned her steps toward the situ 
 ation she desired to find. She had hoped that 
 Lucia's brother would help her in this, and that 
 perhaps Lucia herself would be able to go out 
 with her in her quest at the various stores, but 
 she soon learned that Chicago people are a very 
 busy people, and that for every situation vacant, 
 there at least two hundred applicants, and that 
 as a rule the merchants care much less about the 
 necessities and sensibilities of their clerks than 
 they do about their capacities as good saleswo 
 men. Mr. Winne filled a government position, 
 being an employee of the post-office. He did find 
 time to see the superintendent of schools and 
 introduce his sister Lucia to him, and he gave 
 Eva a slip of paper containing the names of the 
 3 (33)
 
 34 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 leading dry-goods houses, with the street and 
 number attached, telling her as he did so that she 
 was welcome to stay at his house until she found 
 a situation. His wife, however, was a peevish 
 invalid with her arms full of little children 
 luxuries his small salary did not justify and 
 she spent the most of her time in berating their 
 one servant, and cheapening the prices of living, 
 with the results of which she regaled her hus 
 band when he went home at night tired and 
 embarrassed. Both girls hated the stifled, sordid 
 atmosphere, and determined to get out of it as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 Lucia went first. As she passed a good exam 
 ination and obtained a first-class certificate, she 
 was at once called upon as a substitute for a 
 teacher who was ill, and her services giving sat 
 isfaction she retained the place, the convalescent 
 teacher being placed in a department where the 
 work was lighter. Lucia found it convenient 
 to pay the same board which her brother's wife 
 demanded of her, at a place nearer to the school, 
 and in a family whose joys and sorrows were not 
 a matter of traffic. In her own little room she 
 could rest and enjoy herself after her own fash-
 
 HUNTING A SITUATION. 35 
 
 ion, and she soon found that a teacher is always 
 welcome in the best society. Education does 
 that, at least, for its servitors. 
 
 " Do .you want anybody in the store ?" This 
 was the form of Eva's address as she walked 
 from one place to another, following the direc 
 tion on her slip of paper. Of course, the answer 
 was no, and sometimes it was accompanied by a 
 contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. At last 
 she entered a large dry-goods store on the west 
 side of State street, and asked the same ques 
 tion of a lady who stood behind a show case. 
 " You will have to see the proprietor," answered 
 the young woman, gently. " He is there talking 
 to a salesman," pointing in the direction. " "Wait 
 till he turns away, and then speak to him." 
 
 " Oh ! do you think he will want me ?" asked 
 Eva, almost hysterically. She was so tired of 
 tramping the streets, and getting no encourage 
 ment. The young lady behind the show case 
 looked at her attentively. Eva was rather tall 
 and large, a blonde with violet eyes and a pro 
 fusion of wavy hair, too fair for golden but very 
 soft and pretty in its eifect. She was a girl who 
 could dress up attractively in a very little, but
 
 36 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 would look magnificent in rich and elegant cos 
 tumes. The pale young lady whom Eva had 
 addressed scanned her with professional eyes, 
 and at her eager " oh, do you think he will want 
 me ?" answered sorrowfully, " I think he will." 
 Something in the answer restrained Eva's glad 
 ness. 
 
 " Is the place so very hard ?" she asked. 
 
 "Hard enough," replied the other, dusting 
 out her show case, and then she turned away to 
 wait on a lady who dragged any amount of pea 
 cock finery after her. By this time the proprie 
 tor of the store had finished his instructions to 
 his salesman. This was Eva's chance. With her 
 heart in her mouth she approached the gentle 
 man and asked the usual question. 
 
 He was a handsome, elderly man, stout and 
 florid, with a profusion of curly, iron-gray hair. 
 He wore a pair of handsome, gold-rimmed 
 glasses, and he looked at her a full minute 
 before speaking, then he answered her question 
 by asking another. 
 
 "What can you do?" 
 
 For answer Eva gave him her letters of refer 
 ence from the country storekeeper who had
 
 HUNTING A SITUATION. 37 
 
 employed her. He stood a moment in deep 
 thought. 
 
 " I hardly know. It seems as though I had 
 heard them say they needed a good figure in the 
 shawl room. You would do," he said, turning 
 Eva round as if she were indeed a lay figure. 
 " Come with me," he added, and went directly to 
 the young lady to whom Eva had first spoken. 
 ' Miss Holmes, if there is a vacancy in the shawl 
 department, will you try this young woman ? 
 You can instruct her in the usual duties, and let 
 her know the rules. I will see you to-morrow," 
 and he bowed courteously and withdrew. 
 
 Had the skies fallen ? Was this weary, dis 
 consolate Eva Bartlett, who had trudged away 
 a week, after what seemed a forlorn hope, now 
 an employee of the flourishing dry-goods house 
 of Bates & Rockwell? The sad, stern face behind 
 the counter recalled her. 
 
 " Where are you stopping ?" asked Miss 
 Holmes, putting her laces in order while she 
 talked. Eva informed her, and also told of her 
 necessity of at once finding a boarding place. 
 "You can board where I do, at the Woman's 
 Home, on Jackson street."
 
 38 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " Is it a hospital ?" asked Eva, the name sug 
 gesting some public institution. 
 
 Miss Holmes smiled a little at this. " It is, 
 after a sort," she said, " a hospital for the halt 
 and the blind. At least, it is a refuge from the 
 average boarding-house keeper. You can have 
 a comfortable half-room for four dollars a week, 
 and if you like music, a piano to practice on. 
 There are no men in the establishment, except 
 a caterer, and the women all hate each other 
 cordially ; but you need have nothing to do 
 with any of them unless you wish. You can 
 come to-night if you please." 
 
 Eva thanked the young lady and promised to 
 be there. Then she went back to Mr. Winne's 
 and reported progress. Her friends here consid 
 ered her particularly fortunate. After tea she 
 packed up her small wardrobe and made her 
 adieux. Unlike Lucia, she felt sorry to go. She 
 was accustomed to children, and liked the sticky 
 caresses of these little ones, and she felt sure she 
 should prefer the disordered atmosphere of the 
 family to the restricted air of the Home. Yet 
 she felt that it was best for her to go. 
 
 Mr. Winne accompanied her to her new resi-
 
 HUNTING A SITUATION. 39 
 
 dence, and saw her safe in Miss Holmes' keeping. 
 Then he left her with a kind invitation to spend 
 her Sundays and holidays with 'Lucia at his 
 house. 
 
 Eva thought the Home a palace. The great, 
 warm parlors, the halls well lighted, and fur 
 nished so luxuriously, seemed to her the embodi 
 ment of all comfort. Some of the boarders were 
 entertaining company in the parlors ; some were 
 trilling at the pianos ; others walked arm in arm 
 through the halls. All looked comfortable and 
 happy and seemed to consider it a home indeed. 
 
 "I have made an exchange, and you are to 
 share rrrp room," said Miss Holmes, as she led 
 the way there. " It is small, as you see," throw 
 ing open the door, " but we can manage. It is 
 large enough and fine enough for shop girls, as 
 you will soon find." 
 
 She spoke bitterly, and her manner impressed 
 Eva disagreeably. She needed to be re-assured 
 and comforted this first night among strangers, 
 but she felt as though constantly menaced by 
 some hidden danger. 
 
 But she was a brave girl, and not accustomed 
 to thinking merely of her own comfort, so she
 
 4O AGAINST FATE. 
 
 unpacked her trunk and hung up her few dresses 
 in her half of the closet. Miss Holmes watched 
 her but did not offer to assist. She seemed tired 
 out, and lay on the small lounge as utterly pros 
 trate as if she never expected to rise again. Still, 
 she noted each garment as it appeared and com 
 mented on it. There were only three. The last 
 was a black alpaca, plainly but neatly made. 
 "That will do for the store," said Miss Holmes. 
 
 " We all wear black. It does not show wear nor 
 
 \ 
 
 dust, and then with different sets of collars and 
 cuffs, you can always appear to advantage. Now 
 let me advise you how to dress for the first 
 week, after that you will see for yourself. Wear 
 that black dress with blue ribbons, and- do your 
 hair up in a coil with a black velvet band around 
 the front. That light hair of yours will dress 
 splendidly. Oh ! child ! what did your mother 
 send you here for ? Do you know that you have 
 walked right into the lion's den, poor little 
 lamb ?" 
 
 Eva's large, intelligent eyes filled with tears. 
 " Is it such a wicked place ?" she said. " Well ! 
 I am not afraid. I mean to attend to my work 
 all day, and at night I shall be here with you,
 
 HUNTING A SITUATION. 41 
 
 and you will help me to be good I am sure 
 you will ;" and she knelt affectionately by the 
 low couch and patted the hand that hung white 
 and limp over the side. 
 
 But the hand was instantly withdrawn, and 
 Margaret Holmes rose stiffly to a sitting posture 
 and a bright red spot burned fiercely in either 
 cheek. 
 
 "You do not know what you are talking 
 about," she said, coldly. Then she suddenly 
 changed her mood and sobbed aloud, and Eva 
 heard her saying, " Let this be my compen 
 sation," as she clasped the surprised girl to 
 her heart for a moment. "And now you must 
 go to bed and to sleep, for to-morrow will come 
 early. Yes, dear . child ! I will help you to be 
 good."
 
 CHAPTEK Y. 
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION J 
 
 ENNIE followed the servant up stairs 
 to Mrs. Monroe 's room. She expected 
 to find a delicate invalid, supported by 
 pillows; but, much to her surprise, she saw a 
 large, fair woman, quite elaborately dressed, and 
 looking in a high state of health and preserva 
 tion. The lady came forward with much ern- 
 pressement to meet Jennie, took both her hands, 
 drew the girl to her, and, looking intently at her, 
 said, in a low, sweet voice: 
 
 " So this is rny little waiting maid. Do you 
 think you will be happy here with me, Jennie? 
 You see I know your name. My cousin, Ross 
 Farnham, has told me about you, and I have 
 had a long letter from your mother. Mr. Farn 
 ham is always talking about the little girl that 
 
 took such good care of him when his horse 
 
 (42)
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION. 43 
 
 threw him. Weren't you dreadfully fright 
 ened?" 
 
 Poor Jennie had stood appalled during this 
 voluble harangue, held at arm's length by the 
 fair, large woman, who was regarding her all 
 the time with critical attention. In reply to her 
 question she said: 
 
 " We did think he was killed at first," and a 
 shudder passed over her, " but when the doctor 
 came, he said he was only stunned. It was 
 mother who took care of him. I only walked 
 out with him and read to him." 
 
 "Well, I am glad to have you here. I like 
 the society of young girls. Do you know you 
 are to wait on me, bring up my breakfast, take 
 care of these rooms, and read the papers aloud, 
 and help me with my correspondence? I am 
 nearly worked to death now. I am Secretary of 
 the Women's League, President of the 13. W. 
 A. S., and Visitor at the Orphans' Home. You 
 must read my lecture on the Progressive Spirit 
 of the Age. I shall make a business woman of 
 you, Jennie. You are only a pretty doll now. 
 That is what all women are until they are eman 
 cipated. Now what can you do ? "
 
 44 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 At first Jennie felt inclined to say, Nothing! 
 her small stock of accomplishments seemed so 
 poor by contrast. Then she remembered that 
 she had come here to work and earn money, and 
 she informed Mrs. Monroe that she could write, 
 and sew neatly, and do light branches of house 
 work. She could read well, for her father had 
 instructed her, and play the melodeon for Sun 
 day-School airs, and draw a little, and group 
 autumn leaves and ferns prettily. That was all. 
 
 " Why you are quite a wonder, Jennie," said 
 the lady, condescendingly. '<! will teach you 
 to be self-reliant, and make use of the talents 
 given to you. Do you think you will i*ke to 
 live here ? " 
 
 Jennie looked about the room a moment be 
 fore answering. It was gorgeous with the glit 
 ter of cut glass and ornaments. Mirrors in 
 every available place; brackets at every angle, 
 with lovely little statuettes on them ; flowers in 
 bright bloom; books in handsome bindings; a 
 large, lace-draped bed, with flying cupids hover 
 ing near, hung by invisible wires; and the large, 
 handsome mistress of it all looking; at her ear- 
 
 O 
 
 nestly She felt that she had entered upon a
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION. 45 
 
 sphere of life that was completely and enthrall- 
 ingly new; but whether she should like it, or not, 
 how could she tell? 
 
 " I hope I shall," she answered at last, having 
 recalled the gift of speech, " and I will try to do 
 exactly as you want me to. Mother said you 
 would have patience with me, for I should be 
 new and awkward at first." 
 
 "You could not be awkward if you tried," 
 said Mrs. Monroe kindly. She had a morbid 
 desire for a prote'gd. This beautiful untrained 
 girl would bring additional tclat to her charita 
 ble career. 
 
 Jennie felt a little homesick pang as she spoke 
 of her. mother, and the dew that rises so often 
 from the heart suffused her eyes. But Mrs. 
 Monroe drew her toward another room and 
 opened the door into a perfect little bower of a 
 chamber. 
 
 " This is your room, Jennie," she said, " I like 
 to have you near me, in case of a sudden illness. 
 You see it opens from mine. Mr. Monroe is 
 away so much that I like to have some one 
 within call." 
 
 " It is just lovely," murmured Jennie in a
 
 46 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 pleased tone, looking with rapture on the bright 
 carpet, a pattern with violets on a drab ground, 
 on the large white curtains, the pretty toilet 
 table and the knick-knacks upon it. 
 
 " I am glad you like it. You can hang your 
 things in the closet; and, as it is late, ai:d you 
 must be tired, good night;" and Mrs. Monroe 
 shut the door between them as she spoke. 
 
 " She never asked me to sit down," thought 
 Jennie; "I wonder if that is city manners. 
 Never mind ! This is more than I ever dreamed 
 of in my life, before.'' 
 
 She inspected everything with a girl 's careful 
 notice, and then, being really tired from the 
 excitement and novelty, undressed, and was soon 
 ready to sleep in the pretty white bed. But first 
 she knelt down and asked God to take care of 
 her. She had never omitted this habit since her 
 mother had first joined her hands at her knee. 
 Perhaps it was only a habit. , Perhaps she had 
 hard work to feel that she was a sinner, and fix 
 her mind upon God as a frowning Judge. 1 
 think myself she asked Him to take care of her 
 in the tone of a spoiled child, that did not be 
 lieve in any danger. All the same, she did not
 
 A WOMAN WITH A MISSION. 47 
 
 forget to kneel under the strange roof, and with 
 a pleasant sleepiness taking possession of her, to 
 add her little prayer to the countless petitions 
 going up to the unchanged and unchangable 
 God. 
 
 Will He take care of her? 
 
 It was not of Him she thought as her head 
 sunk into the soft pillow, or of His infinite 
 splendor. Her poor little worldly heart was 
 filled with the glory of one of His creatures. 
 One fond thought for the dear mother at home, 
 and the rest for Ross Farnham. 
 
 The next morning Jennie was awake and up 
 early to attend to her duties. Mrs. Monroe, 
 seen by daylight, was a disappointment a phy 
 sical wreck. She had grown old in the service 
 of society, and her face was wrinkled and pallid 
 in the morning light. Its expression, too, was 
 uncertain and discontented. A blase woman is 
 infinitely more an object of pity than a blase 
 man. Paint and powder lend a temporary en 
 chantment to the features, but they kill the soul. 
 Jennie 's first lesson in the art of enamelling and 
 making up was a novel experience. It was her 
 first initiation into the impurity of fashion, and
 
 4 8 
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 she could not quite disguise her contempt for 
 this modern Jezebel. She wrote a piquant de 
 scription home to her mother, who answered 
 that her own grandmother, who was a good 
 woman, had worn powder and patches!
 
 " She had been patted by Jew and Gentile until it seemed 
 sometimes as if she must drop." Page 49.
 
 CHAPTFE YI. 
 
 " ONLY A SHOP GIRL. 
 
 VA. had been installed in the cloak-room 
 for several weeks. She had tried on 
 every garment in the shape of cloak or 
 shawl, and had stood like a wooden block, while 
 impatient fingers pulled her this way and that. 
 She had been patted by Jew and Gentile until it 
 seemed sometimes as if she must drop, from 
 sheer weariness, an inert mass at their feet. The 
 woman who wanted a cloak could sit comfortably 
 while she looked at the fit of it on Eva's shapely 
 form, but she must stand, stand from morning till 
 night, until her back ached, and her limbs were 
 weary, and her feet were swollen to nearly twice 
 their natural size. She could not eat her sup 
 per when she went home at night until she had 
 plunged those poor, aching feet into a tub of cold 
 Mater, and bound a towel, dipped in the same 
 
 4 (49)
 
 JO AGAINST FATE. 
 
 cx>oling fluid about her throbbing temples. Mar 
 garet Holmes forgot her own weariness and 
 trouble in helping Eva. Her feet were hardened 
 by their long years of waiting. So she thought 
 was her heart. But there was one tender spot 
 left, and Eva had reached it, happily for herself. 
 
 It was a hard place. Eva found that out soon 
 enough. It is said that the sick inmates of a 
 hospital loathe each other. They have no sym 
 pathy for their duplicate misery. So those who 
 are compelled to work side by side in a store 
 all day, serving as puppets, poorly paid puppets 
 at that, learn to look with contempt on each 
 other. Eva found herself in an atmosphere of 
 open or suppressed discontent. Her own en 
 deavors to be pleasant and courteous in her inter 
 course with others were met with open criticism 
 or sneering suspicion; so she determined to give 
 her exclusive attention to her work, and at least 
 merit the approbation of her employers; and 
 she soon learned to be always smiling and agree 
 able to all probable or possible customers. She 
 worked steadily from eight in the morning until 
 six at night, with an hour for lunch. She was 
 not expected, nor, indeed, allowed to sit down
 
 ONLY A SHOP GIRL. 51 
 
 during the whole time, except at the hour of 
 noon. When not engaged in selling a cloak, or 
 having one fitted upon her, she had the boxes to 
 keep in order, the counters and tables and changes 
 of buttons and trimmings to look after, or the 
 head of the department to wait upon. For this 
 service she received seven dollars a week, with 
 an ultimate promise of ten. if the season was 
 good, and she was found to be worth it. In the 
 next department another saleswoman, a quiet, 
 sad-faced girl of eighteen, received twelve; but 
 she belonged to a family who had formerly been 
 in fashionable society, and could influence a large 
 amount of trade among the fashionable people, 
 some of whom cut her to the heart by their con 
 descending patronage; while others, and they 
 were among the really best, put themselves out 
 to do her a favor, and never let her know it. 
 She could speak three languages, and was an ac 
 complished musician. Eva liked her quiet, lady 
 like manner, and the two girls tacitly agreed 
 never to make it any harder for each other; but, 
 beyond the courtesy of business, they made no 
 further acquaintance. The fact was, the depen 
 dant, who had seen better days, had nothing to
 
 52 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 look forward to, and was dying of hopelessness, 
 while Eva had everything in the future a home 
 and independence for herself and her widowed 
 mother. Seven dollars a week to the girl who 
 had never before earned but two, was a begin 
 ning that promised well. 
 
 Mr. Bates, the senior partner, had taken con 
 siderable notice of Eva. He had himself ex 
 plained her duties, and on several occasions had 
 watched her making sales, and suggested certain 
 methods. Eva listened respectfully, but when 
 he came near, and she looked up into his face, 
 there seemed some oppression in the air. There 
 was a look of intense admiration in his dark, 
 half- veiled eyes; a cruel friendliness in the ten 
 der regard of his look. It seemed as if Marga 
 ret Holmes knew by intuition when he was near 
 Eva, for then she had always some excuse to 
 draw near, and Mr. Bates would compress his 
 handsome lips, give his stately shoulders a half- 
 contemptuous shrug, and saunter away. No girl 
 in that store would have dared him as Miss 
 Holmes did, and none hated him with as just 
 a caus~e. 
 
 At the Home Eva found a comfortable enough
 
 ONLY, A SHOP GIRL. 53 
 
 resting-place. She liked the management, but 
 she did not enjoy the aggregation of poverty. 
 At night the little tables were filled with a tired 
 community of toilers; young girls, old maids, 
 widows, wives who had no husbands, and col 
 orless neutral women, who seemed never to have 
 had a childhood, but were perpetual dwellers in 
 the arid region of middle age. Never a man 
 among them, nor a little child. Heavens! what 
 a life! Of their heart-burnings and histories, 
 Eva knew nothing. They were nearly all dully 
 uninteresting to her. Even to themselves life 
 was either a battle or a blank ! Some few were 
 young girls, like Eva, who expected little, but 
 deserved much. After tea Eva and Miss Holmes 
 would, perhaps, sit a few moments in the parlors 
 and listen to some music; but generally they went 
 at once to their little box of a room and sat there 
 all the evening, walled in, hearing gay voices, 
 but not joining in any mirth themselves. Eva 
 longed to see the inside of a theatre; but Mar 
 garet Holmes had objected to the one invitation 
 she had received from the spruce young cashier. 
 " It is the way all girls begin," she had said. 
 " I cannot bear that you should follow their
 
 54 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 example;" and Eva had denied herself the oov- 
 eted pleasure, rather than appear ungrateful. 
 
 But it did seem at times that life ought to 
 hold something better and brighter th&n this 
 monotonous work-a-day existence. Eva longed, 
 with downright homesickness, for a romp with 
 the boys and girls at home, a breezy run to the 
 village post office, a downright good time, in 
 spite of hard work, and there w T as always a 
 tempter ready to show her the kaleidoscope of 
 pleasure. From such thoughts as these she 
 would raise her eyes to see Margaret Holmes ob 
 serving her like some grim spectre of fate, say 
 ing "Thou shalt not! Thou shalt not!"
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN THE TOIJJS. 
 
 ES. MONROE'S room was darkened, 
 tliat lady being prostrate with a severe 
 headache. Jennie was writing by a 
 faint gas jet, directing a great pile of business 
 envelopes, in a fair, round hand. She has 
 changed somewhat since we saw her last. Her 
 too vivid country color has toned down to a 
 mere tinting of the oval cheek. She looks more 
 womanly, is far more beautiful than formerly, 
 but it is plainly visible that this mode of life 
 does not suit her. She is looking careworn and 
 tired. Her work, to tell the truth, is horribly 
 distasteful to her. She hates the very name of 
 reformers and reform. The makeshifts of this 
 house are pitiable, and the charities of its mis 
 tress wear a mantle to conceal it from the 
 
 world. Jennie had tried her best to become 
 (55)
 
 56 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 interested in foundling babies and old ladies' 
 homes, and had really gone upon missionary 
 investigations in the spirit of a true reformer; 
 but she could not find any pleasure or comfort 
 in the final emancipation of her sex through the 
 arena of political glory. To be the wife of the 
 man she loved, and the mother of his children, 
 seemed to her an infinitely higher station for 
 any woman, than a position as judge of a 
 supreme court, editor of a newspaper, or founder 
 of all the Good Samaritan societies in the world. 
 Mrs. Monroe called her an idiot, and gave up 
 proselyting her. Jennie did her work well. 
 There could be no fault found with that; but it 
 was impossible to please the captious woman 
 whose life chords were all dissonant; so the 
 young girl bore with her as best she might 
 served her conscientiously for the pay that was 
 slow in coining, and tried her best to regulate 
 the ill-assorted household, while Mrs. Monroe 
 read, and dreamed, and theorized her life away. 
 
 As she now sits and writes in the half-dark 
 ened room, some one is looking at her through 
 the half opened door. She is writing busily, her 
 rosy lips compressed, her lovely head set coquet-
 
 IN THE TOILS. 57 
 
 tishly on one side, in the exact pose that paint 
 ers seek. Her rosy fingers are blurred with ink, 
 only making her more deliciously, lovely. 
 
 So thinks Ross Farnham, as he stands there 
 watching her, himself unseen. There is a 
 Psyche on the wall-bracket just above her head, 
 but it suffers in comparison with her. An 
 exquisite ideal painting of summer, rose-crowned 
 and warm-tinted, with lovely luminous eyes, 
 and baby dimples, looked something like her; 
 but when did a painted picture blush and smile 
 as this other did, lifting her eyes and seeing 
 him there? 
 
 " You must not come." She put one small 
 inky finger on her pouting lips and went to 
 meet him. " Mrs. Monroe has such a headache, 
 and I have been as still as a mouse all the after 
 noon." 
 
 He imprisoned both hands it had come to 
 to this, then and looked at her with greedy 
 admiration. 
 
 "And you shall not sit here another minute, 
 such a day as it is for a ride; cool and crisp, 
 with a tang in the air like wine. Run and get
 
 58 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 your things on. I want you to go out on the 
 Boulevard." 
 
 " But Mrs. Monroe will need me. I have not 
 finished my work yet/' said Jennie, looking up 
 into the handsome, dangerous face, and seeing 
 as in a vision, a long stretch of smooth road, 
 and two very happy people bowling along it. 
 
 Eoss Farnham's face flushed angrily. He was 
 not accustomed to beg for favors of this kind. 
 He flung open the door, and said : 
 
 " Maria, I want Jennie for an hour on the 
 Boulevard," coolly ignoring possible denial. 
 
 Mrs. Monroe was indignant at her sudden 
 awakening, and at Jennie for permitting it; but 
 she had no power to restrain her cousin's wishes, 
 so she gave an ungracious permission for Jennie 
 to get ready. 
 
 When Jennie had gone, Mrs. Monroe sat up, 
 gathered her handsome neglige robe about her, 
 and looked angrily at her cousin. He, in return, 
 surveyed her critically, and coolly remarked : 
 
 " You are looking exceedingly well for an 
 invalid, Maria." 
 
 ''Thank you! I don't imagine you came 
 here solely to compliment my appearance, Ross,
 
 IN THE TOILS. 59 
 
 and even if yon did, I wish you would stay 
 away. Yon will spoil that girl with your atten 
 tions, whether you mean anything or nothing. 
 I really believe she is indulging in hopes ridicu 
 lously above her position, even now." 
 
 " I am doing a simple act of kindness, as you 
 well know. When I was in her neighborhood, 
 a miserable, peevish, sick man, she did every 
 thing in her power to make time pass pleasantly 
 for me." 
 
 "And you repaid the family in coin such 
 people love best. You helped her impecunious 
 old father, and you gave me no peace until I 
 sent for the daughter. Ross Farnham, let this 
 girl alone. I will send her back to her poverty, 
 rather than see her harmed by you." 
 
 For all answer, he got up, crossed the room, 
 and stood before his cousin, as she sat thrown 
 back in a lounging chair. " Shall I tell her," 
 he asked in a low voice, " the story of Anna 
 Lester?" 
 
 "No! no! "cried his cousin, excitedly, clasp 
 ing her hands in supplication. " In mercy, no!" 
 " Then leave Jennie to me," he retorted sternly. 
 ' I think," he sneered, " that you church goers
 
 60 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 consider some souls pre-ordained to be saved, 
 and some to be lost. You may consider her one 
 of the elect, or " 
 
 He did not finish the sentence. Jennie, radi 
 ant and blushing, came into the room. She 
 busied herself about Mrs. Monroe for a moment, 
 bending down her blushing face to whisper " I 
 will not be long away," and leaving a small, 
 pure kiss on that lady's artistically powdered 
 cheek. 
 
 Of what strange material are women made. 
 At that moment, when the young and tender 
 heart of the girl went .out in gratitude to the 
 older woman for being even the remote cause of 
 her happiness, the older one was coming very 
 near to envying and hating her, because the girl 
 was just entering upon a threshold which she 
 had crossed. 
 
 As Eoss Farnham helped Jennie into the com 
 fortable open carriage, he smiled to himself. 
 The little brown straw hat, with its pigeon 
 wing, plucked and pressed by herself ; the short, 
 coarse jacket, made of her mother's old cloak; 
 the cheap, washed pin that clasped a too bright 
 ribbon, grated on the man's nice appreciation of
 
 IN THE TOILS. 6 1 
 
 dress, but they did not appeal to his more ob 
 tuse moral sense. Miss Badger would have 
 worn seal skin, and the finest ostrich plume 
 would have trailed over her dainty shoulders, 
 and her long, slim fingers would have been cased 
 in pearl-colored kids. But who of them all had 
 so pretty and piquant a face, so delicately curved 
 a chin, so lily like a throat. And to this girl 
 everything was new and fresh.
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 "This is not a fit match," quoth Robin Hood, 
 "That you do seem to make her." 
 " Oh, loving heart trust on." 
 
 ERE 'S a letter for yon, Mrs. Armstrong. 
 From Jennie, I think," said Reuben 
 Harlow, walking in upon the old 
 couple one evening some weeks after Jennie had 
 gone. "I just stepped into Burt's a moment, 
 and he asked me to bring it up." 
 
 " Thank you, Reuben ; sit by while w r e read 
 it," and the proud mother adjusted her glasses 
 carefully and read the four pages of closely writ 
 ten paper with the most careful attention, before 
 she ventured upon any part of it aloud. It was 
 a wonderful letter bright, cheery, full of good 
 news, and folded up in it was a crisp five dollar 
 bill Mrs. Monroe's first installment of Jennie's 
 wages. It was sent with a gleeful little message, 
 '62)
 
 REUBEN HARLOW. 63 
 
 and the mother kissed it and put it in her bosom 
 as a precious treasure. 
 
 "Now what does she say, Mary ?" asked Mr. 
 Armstrong, becoming impatient as the mother 
 seemed inclined to read the letter to herself once 
 more. "Reuben would like to know, too." 
 
 "It's good news, Richard," answered the 
 mother, smiling to herself. " I can hardly 
 believe it yet, it is such good news. Did n't I 
 tell you our little girl would have good luck ? 
 She is to be Ross Farnham's wife !" 
 
 "Ross Farnham's wife!" Mr. Armstrong 
 looked almost as happy as the mother. " Well, 
 that is news ! No more poverty and hardship 
 for her then ! I can hardly believe it. Cheer 
 up, Reuben ! there are plenty of girls who will 
 be glad to welcome your attentions. Do n't 
 look so glum, man !" 
 
 " Does she say he is to marry her ?" asked 
 Reuben, looking hard at Mrs. Armstrong. 
 
 " Why, its the same thing," answered the 
 mother, finding the place in the letter. Here 
 she says, " Ross offered me a splendid fur cloak, 
 mother, but I thought you would not want me 
 to accept anything of that sort before we were
 
 64 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 married." And, again : " Ross has selected a 
 diamond ring. He says it is worth many thou 
 sands of dollars. Only think ! that for your 
 little Jennie. He has just brought me such a 
 lovely bouquet. Oh, clear mother, I am too 
 happy ! When Mrs. Monroe lectures me I do 
 not cry as I used to, but just smile to think 
 how different it will all be when I am Ross* 
 wife. I have promised him not to say a word 
 about it yet to anybody in the world ; but, of 
 course, he did not think I would keep it from 
 you or father." 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Reuben," said Mrs. 
 Armstrong ; "but you see it was not to happen. 
 I won't say that you might not have made her 
 a better husband than Mr. Farnham, but he 
 took her fancy last summer, and it seems he 
 has chosen her above all the girls he knows. I 
 never was one to think money makes people 
 wicked. I believe the poor have more tempta 
 tions to overcome than the rich. I think Jennie 
 will not be spoiled by prosperity." 
 
 " She won't belong to us any more, Mary," 
 said the father, with some latent regret in his 
 tones. " So all this time we 've been worrying
 
 REUBEN HARLOW. 65 
 
 about her, she has had her bread cut' and 
 buttered on both sides. Well ! she 's a good 
 girl ; thanks to you, Mary, and though we are 
 poor, Ave 've never done anything disgraceful, 
 and I guess her blood is bluer than Ross Farn- 
 hain's." 
 
 " Oh, Richard ! It is such a comfort to me 
 to feel that Jennie will be taken care of, no 
 matter what happens to us. It has been such 
 a terror to my mind that she might have to 
 battle alone with the world." 
 
 " I thought you were a Christian, Mrs. Arm 
 strong," said Reuben Harlow, wearily. " Of 
 what use are faith and prayer, if the Bible 
 promises are false ?" 
 
 " When Jennie was born, Reuben, I commit 
 ted her to the care of God, but I never stopped 
 working for her myself. 'No human soul is 
 ever safe from temptation. It needs watching 
 and praying for all the time." 
 
 " Its my opinion Jennie needs your prayers 
 more than ever now," continued Reuben. "You 
 know I never believed in her going to the city.. 
 It is no place for young and handsome girls,. 
 who are poor and unprotected. I shall be glad 
 5
 
 66 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 to hear of her good fortune when I know it to 
 be such. She is a thousand times too good for 
 Eoss Farnham." He took his hat as he spoke, 
 and with an abrupt good-night left the farm 
 house. 
 
 "Reuben seems a good deal cut up about 
 Jennie," said Mr. Armstrong, taking up his 
 daughter's letter, and preparing to read it care 
 fully. "It is strange how things turn out. 
 Who would have thought when that awkward 
 bay ran oif and threw Ross Farnham at our 
 gate, that it would ever take such a turn as 
 this." 
 
 The father read the letter and went to bed, 
 but the mother sat up till far into the night, 
 marking out a path of roses for her child. 
 
 Reuben Harlow went home and as usual 
 found his mother sitting up for him. He went 
 and sat down by her and said, abruptly: 
 
 " I'm going up to Chicago to-morrow, mother, 
 to find out the truth about Jennie Armstrong; 
 
 o 
 
 She has written home that she expects to be 
 married to Ross Farnham. I took the letter up 
 there myself to-night. I meant to tell them 
 how tongues were wagging here about her,
 
 REUBEN HARLOW. 67 
 
 but I had n't the heart to. I 'm going myself 
 -to find out the truth." 
 
 " And when you have found it out, Reuben, 
 what good will it do ? Is she the only woman 
 in the world, that you must spend your time 
 running after her ? What good will it do you ? 
 She went off and never said a good-bye to you, 
 and she won't know you in the city. It 's her 
 nature. She's fickle minded and ungrateful, is 
 Jennie Armstrong, and you know it, Ruby." 
 
 " I do n't care if she is, mother. She is the 
 one woman in the world for me, and I will not 
 see her go to destruction without lifting a finger 
 to save her. I '11 find out whether her fine lover 
 intends to marry her curse him. And I'll 
 warn her of the evil things said about her. 
 Poor child ! she has n't the least idea what such 
 wickedness means. If her father had a grain 
 of common sense, he would have kept her at 
 home and taken care of her." 
 
 " What did she go to the city for ?" asked his 
 mother, angrily. " There 's enough to do at 
 home. But, no ; I s'pose the girl must have 
 fine dresses, and ribbons, and laces, like the rest 
 of them. Reputation goes for nothing. I 've
 
 68 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 seen her droning about with that Farnham, 
 walking, and riding, and picking flowers, while 
 her mother cooked, and washed, and ironed at 
 home. It shows a bad heart to my thinking." 
 
 " It was because of her inherited delicacy of 
 constitution, and the way her mother brought 
 her up. She could never stand drudging. Why, 
 her hands are like a lady's," said this valiant 
 defender of the absent girl. 
 
 "Inherited fiddlesticks !" retorted his mother. 
 She was a good woman, but had outlived the 
 romance of youth. "A.nd you want to marry this 
 baby-handed girl and bring her here over me. 
 Reuben Harlow, you are an ungrateful son." 
 
 " No, I 'm not, mother," answered the yoang 
 man, sorrowfully. " You would have no harder 
 work to do, if I married Jennie. Oh, God ! 
 how I wish I could. I 've loved her since she 
 was that high," measuring the height with his 
 hand. " Since she first said, ' I '11 be your little 
 wife, Ruby;' and now, and now, mother, I tell 
 you I must go and find out what she means to 
 do, or I shall go mad. This fellow Farnham is 
 following her up and giving her presents, and 
 taking her out to ride. Now I am going to
 
 REUBEN HARLOW. 69 
 
 find out if he intends to marry her. If he 
 does, it 's all right, I '11 come back and never 
 speak her name again. But if he if he dares 
 to make her a thing so vile"- he started up 
 digging his nails into the palms of his hands 
 " why, there '11 be a short reckoning between us 
 -that's all !" 
 
 Mrs. Harlow was frightened by this depth of 
 passion. It seemed to her that his pale student 
 father stood there instead of Reuben, the boy 
 she had reared alone. She felt sorry for the 
 love that was wasted, and indignant at the girl 
 who had thrown him over for another. True, 
 Jennie had not been his plighted wife, save in 
 the extravagant play of their childhood, but he 
 had always been her sworn friend, boy and man, 
 and until the unlucky hour when a runaway 
 horse threw Ross Farnham at her father's gate. 
 
 The next morning Reuben packed a crumpled 
 leather satchel with necessary clothing. Then 
 he went to a drawer, took out a small single ball 
 pistol, and without a word cleaned and loaded it. 
 He saw his mother watching him anxiously. 
 " For thieves !" he said quietly ; " the city is 
 full of them."
 
 CHAPTEK IX. 
 
 ' When shall we three meet again." 
 
 T was Thanksgiving Day in the State 
 of Illinois. The offices and stores in 
 the city were all closed, and everybody 
 that could, took a holiday. There was a grand 
 exodus of all who had country homes or friends 
 to visit, and the odor of roast turkey was strong 
 in the land. It was a busy time for housewives, 
 and a fearful epoch in poultry life; but it is 
 pleasant to feel that one is sacrificed in a good 
 cause. 
 
 The home of Lucia Winne's brother under 
 went a grand transformation for the occasion, 
 and fairly glowed under its decoration of red 
 berries rifled from the mountain ash, and beau 
 tifully varied autumn leaves. They were sent 
 from the old homestead at Newton, accompanied 
 by a generous supply of apples and the grand 
 (70)
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 7 1 
 
 sultan of the turkey dominion. Said turkey 
 was now smoking hot in the oven, crisp and 
 brown, and pervading the atmosphere with its 
 delicious odors. 
 
 All the little sticky children in the household 
 had been picked up, washed and dried, set in a 
 row and counted, and told to be good till Aunt 
 Lucia came. They piled themselves up in the 
 front windows, after awhile, and flattened their 
 noses against the window-panes. Just as it 
 was growing dark they all cried out in chorus, 
 "There's three Aunt Lucias corned!" The 
 three proved to be Lucia, Eva, and Jennie, who 
 were invited to spend the evening and night in 
 Mr. Winne's family. 
 
 There was so much noise after this that poor, 
 peevish little Mrs. Winne would have gone dis 
 tracted, only she was accustomed to earthquakes 
 of sound. It was the first unrestrained inter 
 course the three girls had enjoyed since they 
 came to the city, and they were determined to 
 make the most of it. They talked and laughed 
 a great deal, and kissed all the babies, and gave 
 them candy, making them stickier than ever. 
 As soon as Mr. Winne came in he had been
 
 72 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 cracking nuts in some, remote corner they all 
 went out to the comfortable dining- room and 
 sat down, without ceremony, to a real home 
 dinner. 
 
 " Oh! " cried Jennie, merrily, "what a beau 
 tiful turkey!" 
 
 "And what lovely cranberry jelly," responded 
 Eva. 
 
 "And what delicious celery," said Lucia, with 
 her usual propriety. 
 
 "And what silly geese!" exclaimed Mr. 
 Winne, flourishing his carving-knife as if it had 
 been a baton. 
 
 " The cackling of geese saved Rome," an- 
 - swered Lucia, sententiously. 
 
 " Well, it won 't save Turkey," retorted the 
 master of the house, and in merry mood they 
 attacked the feast set before them. Even Mrs. 
 Winne caught the spirit of jollity, and forgot to 
 administer reproof or to grumble. 
 
 "Who do you think I saw yesterday? " asked 
 Eva, when they were finishing the dessert. 
 She looked at Jennie as she spoke. 
 
 "Any one we all know?" answered Jennie, 
 blushing slightly.
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 73 
 
 " Yes. It was Reilben Harlow: and he looked 
 / 
 
 as if he had been ill. He was stalking along 
 State street reading the signs. I ran after him 
 half a block, but he walked so fast I lost sight 
 of him. Now w T hat do you suppose brought 
 him to Chicago?" 
 
 " Why, you know he often comes here on^ 
 business," said Jennie indifferently, but feeling, 
 somehow, as if she were to blame. 
 
 " I saw him myself," said Mr. Winne, " and 
 asked him to come up here to-day, but he hardly 
 seemed to hear me; and, by the way, Jennie, lie 
 asked me several questions about you. 1 mean 't 
 to tell you. I wonder what has changed Reuben 
 so much. He used to be as lively as any of us, 
 and was always a favorite at school. He is as 
 
 o-l um and morose now, as if lie had committed 
 
 
 
 some awful crime. I wonder if he is in love?" 
 He looked at Jennie as he spoke, in an ear 
 nest, almost indignant manner. 
 
 "Because," continued Mr. Winne, " he isn't 
 the sort of man to be trifled with. He has good 
 material in him, but I imagine he would rather 
 kill the woman he loved, than give her up to 
 another."
 
 74 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Jennie, in terror, " how dread 
 fully you talk of killing! If that is the kind of 
 man Keuben Harlow is, what girl would ever 
 love him ? " 
 
 "I do not know, do you?" answered Mr. 
 Winne quietly. " By the way, Jennie, I saw 
 you riding out the other day, in state and style, 
 with Ross Farnham. Do you often do that?" 
 
 "Yes," said Jennie, blushing very red, " 1 
 I go sometimes. He is Mrs. Monroe's cousin, 
 and he was at our house a month, last summer, 
 and and She wanted to add " I am to be 
 his wedded wife;" but she could not. The 
 words died on her tongue. 
 
 "Isn't he handsome?" cried Eva, impul 
 sively. She had often seen him with Jennie. 
 They had -been in the store together to see her. 
 That he should marry her, if he wanted to, 
 seemed to her the most natural thing in the 
 world. " I just think he is splendid." 
 
 " Other girls have thought so, to their cost," 
 replied Mr. Winne. "He's a splendid scamp; 
 that 's what he is, and if I were in your place, 
 Jennie, I would make him keep his distance. 
 Ross Farnham has ruined many a girl's reputa-
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 75 
 
 tation and broken her heart. If you were my 
 sister, and he presumed to offer you any atten 
 tion, I would horsewhip him." 
 
 Lucia, whose exceedingly prim and proper 
 deportment had never challenged any man's 
 attention, pursed her lips and looked disapproval 
 at Jennie; but Eva felt that it was almost un 
 kind to introduce the subject at all, and she 
 asked, deprecatingly : 
 
 " Is he really a bad man? " 
 
 "Yes! he is known about town as a fast man. 
 Of course, young ladies in his own set may 
 aspire to his hand in marriage, ^and accept his 
 attentions on that basis. He is handsome, fas 
 cinating, and wholly unscrupulous, with plenty 
 of money, and all the arts and blandishments of 
 a long experience in evil. I tell you, Jennie, 
 you are in deadly peril, and I wonder that you 
 do not see it, or that Mrs. Monroe allows it." 
 
 " He is a relative of Mrs. Monroe's," answered 
 Jennie, who had hard work to keep the tears 
 back, " and he has been very kind, and always 
 very respectful to me." 
 
 " Perhaps he is in love; if so, why shouldn't 
 he marry Jennie?" suggested Mrs. Winne.
 
 76 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " She is quite his equal, by birth and education, 
 and he has enough money for both. There are 
 rich men in this city who have married poor 
 girls and given them splendid positions." 
 
 " It is not the way of his world, I suppose," 
 said Lucia, who was eating philopoenas and 
 breaking wish - bones with her nephews and 
 neices. " I know one thing," she continued, 
 significantly ; " I would never accept attentions 
 from such a man until he had signified his inten 
 tions to my friends." 
 
 "A Declaration of. Independence," whispered 
 Eva merrily into Jennie's ear; but she, poor 
 child, was distressed beyond measure by all their 
 insinuations. If this was to be the end of her 
 holiday, she wished she had not come. 
 
 " They will talk differently to me when I am 
 Ross Farnham's wife," she thought. " How I 
 wish I could let them know of his dear love and 
 care; but I have promised not to speak of it 
 until he gives me permission." Aloud she said : 
 " I am old enough now, Mr. Winne, to know 
 right from wrong. Mr. Farnham has never 
 given me reason to think his attentions any 
 thing but honorable. You know he associates
 
 THANKSGIVING DAY. 77 
 
 with the most particular ladies in the city, and 
 is always welcome at their homes, or to ride 
 or walk with them. Mrs. Monroe thinks a 
 great deal of him." 
 
 " And Mr. Monroe," said Mr. Winne, " for I 
 am told there is such a person." 
 
 "He is home so little I do not know. .1 
 think lie does not like any of his wife's friends 
 very much." 
 
 ' ; Poor man! " said Mr. Winne, " I suppose he 
 is of the least possible account is his own house 
 hold." 
 
 " Indeed you are mistaken. He turns things 
 over once in a while all through the house; but 
 he is rather quiet and patient most of the time. 
 Mrs. Monroe says he is a psychological some 
 thing or other, and she is writing him out for a 
 scientific paper." 
 
 " Interesting subject," said Lucia, laughing. 
 "The proper study of mankind is man. Oh! 
 dear, I 'd rather try cloaks on for a living than 
 be factotum to such a woman. But you needn't 
 learn any of her ideas, Jennie." 
 
 " I am not likely to," laughed Jennie, thank 
 ful the conversation had taken a new turn. " I
 
 78 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 am too narrow and conservative, and behind the 
 age. She says I am joined to my idols of ignor 
 ance and prejudice. I expect every day to be 
 dismissed. Oh! what a lovely world this would 
 be if we all of us had money enough. I would 
 never want to live in any other." 
 
 ."And how tired you would get," said Eva. 
 " Let rue tell you my experience. I have an 
 opportunity to see the wealthiest and most ele 
 gant people in the city off guard, and oh! how 
 miserable and discontented they are when you 
 find them out." 
 
 " Tell us about them, Eva," said Jennie, nest 
 ling affectionately near her. She had always 
 been a little afraid of Lucia, who was one of 
 those perfectly self-contained young ladies, who 
 look with tacit disapproval upon thoughtless, 
 impulsive girls of their own age, or near it; but 
 she loved bright, pleasant Eva, with her caress 
 ing ways. 
 
 " Excuse me, girls," said Mr. Winne, " I am 
 going to smoke a pipe of peace in the dining- 
 room; so you can gossip to your heart's con 
 tent."
 
 CHAPTEK X. 
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY. 
 
 OU must not laugh at me," began Eva, 
 "if I moralize a little sometimes, or 
 even become tragic; but you know I 
 have a chance to see the world from a very 
 different point of view from either of you, and 
 I do not like it. I am sick of dress, tired to 
 death of fashion, and quite ready to go back to 
 Newton and be storekeeper and postmistress at 
 two dollars a week; for that is all I can contrive 
 to save here. All the rest goes for board and 
 transient expenses. Besides, a shop-girl here 
 is nothing more than a lay figure a sort of 
 talking and walking machine, while there it is 
 rather a credit to fill the position." 
 
 " But there are some very nice young ladies 
 in your store," said Lucia. " The principal of 
 our school has a sister there." 
 (79)
 
 80 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " I know that they have secured positions 
 and homes, and do not seem to mind the dis 
 advantages ; but a great many of the girls 
 lose their self-respect and give up trying to be 
 anybody. Bah! how I shudder sometimes as I 
 try on a cloak or suit, and feel the hands turn- 
 in me round and round, and hear them talk as 
 if I were deaf, criticising my figure and appear 
 ance to my face. Old sordid Jews. You ought 
 to see them, with such unclean hands, just 
 loaded with diamond rings. And they would 
 keep me standing all day. But the daughters 
 are young and pretty, and if they want anything 
 they get it. I must say I like to have gentle 
 men customers. They always let me select the 
 cloak, and then pay the price without any hag 
 gling. One lady bought a cloak after rubbing 
 a threadbare place in its duplicate to see if it 
 \vere all wool. They say she never bought a 
 yard of calico without chewing a piece, to see 
 if the colors were fast." 
 
 " I would n't let her," said Jennie, indig 
 nantly. 
 
 "Then you would be reported for being im 
 pertinent. Not a week ago, a lady bought a
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY. 8 1 
 
 child's cloak of me, paid for it, and left the de 
 partment; but in a little while came running 
 back, saying she had left her pocket-book. I 
 looked everywhere, but it could not be found. 
 She called the manager up, and told him she 
 was positive she had left it there, and insisted 
 that I should be searched. I told her that I had 
 not touched it, and that I was sure she had not 
 left it there, or I should have seen it. She got 
 very angry, and threatened to have me arrested, 
 when something touched her foot, and she found 
 the pocket-book had slipped between her $ress 
 and the lining, instead of into the pocket. 
 Instead of apologizing to me for her suspi 
 cions, she said she would never purchase of ma 
 again, because I had been impertinent, and the 
 manager blamed me for losing her custom. 
 There 's justice and equity for you." 
 
 " I think I should have resigned my situa 
 tion," said Lucia. 
 
 "No you wouldn't. You would do just as I 
 did cry, when you got a chance, and go right: 
 on. If you left, they would n't give you a ref 
 erence, and you might not get another situation 
 during the season. The girls do not mind such
 
 82 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 things in the least. Sometimes a real true lady 
 comes in; not one who is^ rich and patronizing, 
 but a lady who knows just what she wants, and 
 speaks to us as if we were human beings, with 
 souls. Then there are some who try to be very 
 sympathetic, and they ask us. what salaries we 
 are paid, and how we are treated, and what 
 church or Sunday-school we attend, and want us 
 to join the church sociables. They will be very 
 good if we go to their particular church; but if 
 not, we have no further notice from them. 
 ~Wlia| surprises me is, that everything is so con 
 tradictory. Sometimes the richest ladies are the 
 meanest when making purchases. They will 
 select elegant goods, that just suit them, and 
 then haggle over the price for an hour; and 
 such w T orn out, faded out fashionable women as 
 they are, all paint and powder, and make up, 
 with no more expression in their faces than in 
 a rag doll's." 
 
 " How you must dislike them," cried Jennie. 
 " I should hate to wait on such people." 
 
 " We pity them," answered Eva. " It is such 
 a forlorn fate to be only a walking dry-goods 
 advertisement. And there are other women
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY. 83 
 
 oh ! girls, it is awful they come there dressed 
 like queens, in the richest of laces, and velvets, 
 and silks, and select such elegant goods, and 
 order them charged to Mr. A. or Mr. B., and the 
 next day little pale Mrs. A. comes in and buys 
 a modest, inexpensive garment, and studies over 
 it a long time ; and Mrs. B. is an invalid, and we 
 all feel so sorry for her. Sometimes I wish I 
 had never learned there were such wicked people 
 in the world." 
 
 " It need make no difference with us, only to 
 stimulate us to a better life," remarked Lucia. 
 
 " Somebody is responsible," answered Eva. 
 " I am sorry, too, for people who make such 
 shipwrecks of their lives. You would be, if you 
 could hear the cruel things said about them." 
 
 " Your pity is all wasted," replied Lucia. " I 
 should keep mine for those who are more deserv 
 ing. When I find a depraved child in my school, 
 and there are such, I can tell you, I just expel 
 it, and so prevent its hurting twenty good chil 
 dren. That is the only safe plan." And Lucia 
 looked the moral school ma 'am to perfection as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " Mrs. Monroe would tell you there were pre-
 
 84 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 natal reasons why the child should be bad," 
 said Jennie. " You ought to see the objects she 
 picks up and brings home. The house is like a 
 hospital half the time." 
 
 " Why, I thought she was an invalid," said 
 Lucia. 
 
 "So she is. She takes all kinds of horrid 
 doses, and eats five meals a day, weighing every 
 ounce." 
 
 " Who pays for all her philanthrophy," asked 
 Eva; "Mr. Monroe?" 
 
 " Well, it comes out of his pocket in the end ; 
 but she attends meetings where they take up 
 collections for such purposes; and there is a 
 secret society, to which a number of the ladies 
 belong. They meet in a cellar on the West Side, 
 and form in procession, with black cambric robes 
 and masks. There is a queen I believe Mrs. 
 Monroe is the queen and they have some kind 
 of an order, and take solemn oaths not to tell 
 anything, under penalty of death. The dues 
 of the society are used for charitable purposes." 
 
 " Well, I don't like that Mrs. Monroe," said 
 Eva, decidedly. " Margaret Holmes knew a poor 
 seamstress who worked for her, and she says she
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY. 85 
 
 turned her into the street in the middle of the 
 night for some fancied offense, and that she once 
 had a constable in the house to arrest a poor ser 
 vant girl for stealing a pair of stockings." 
 
 " Why do you stay there, Jennie," asked Lucia. 
 " You could get a situation somewhere else for 
 the same money.'' 
 
 Jennie blushed scarlet. Why did she stay 
 there, sure enough ? Oh ! if she could only tell 
 the girls that Ross Farnham loved her; that he 
 had selected the ring of betrothal; that she 
 would some day be his honored wife ! Why 
 should there be any secrecy in their love-mak 
 ing'? He was free to choose her before the 
 whole world. 
 
 " You ought to be with some good Christian 
 woman, who would look upon you as a child 
 with a soul to save. Mrs. Monroe has proved 
 already that she is not a fit protection for any 
 young girl," continued Lucia, warmly. 
 
 "She has lost her interest in me since she 
 finds that I will never be a graduate of her 
 school," said Jennie, laughing. " At any rate, 
 I earn my bread and butter, which is more than 
 she can do. I don't think she takes very much
 
 86 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 interest in my soul or any other soul in her 
 dominion." 
 
 " You are fond of the pomps and vanities of 
 this wicked world, and need the most careful 
 restraining influences," answered Lucia. 
 
 Jennie flushed up, and the tears came into her 
 eyes. " Pomps and vanities," she repeated, bit 
 terly. " I have seen so much of them. I think 
 there never was anyone who had such an appre 
 ciation of wealth, and luxury, arid beautiful 
 things, who was s.o completely deprived of them. 
 Why girls, when I see beautiful ladies stepping 
 out of elegant carriages, dressed in rich and 
 expensive things, and everybody bowing and 
 smiling to them, it seems just like a glimpse of 
 Heaven, and, like Heaven, it is denied to me." 
 
 The two girls looked at her a moment in sor 
 rowful silence. They knew of her past. They 
 had all grown up together. They were all edu 
 cated, thoughtful girls, but of the three, Jennie 
 was the youngest and most flippant. Lucia had 
 a great deal of mental force and culture, but her 
 heart and feelings were regulated by a rather 
 severe judgment. She was the first to break the 
 transient silence.
 
 ROMANCE AND REALITY. 8/ 
 
 " You are a materialist, Jennie," she said, 
 presently. " You see only with the eyes of the 
 flesh. If you could look deeper, with a more 
 spiritual perception, you might behold all the 
 deformities those silken robes cover. You might 
 see envy, hatred, and malice lurking beneath." 
 
 " I dare say," answered Jennie, indifferently. 
 "Unfortunately, I suffer and' feel in the flesh! 
 I am quite sure I should be a better Christian 
 in silk and velvet than in rags, taking all acces 
 sories into consideration. I hate poverty! " 
 
 " Well, we none of us love it," said Lucia; 
 " but I can imagine a greater poverty than any 
 of us have ever known. A splendid poverty, 
 that degrades and destroys its possessor." 
 
 Mr. Winne, having smoked his pipe out, here 
 came in with a suggestion of games, and put an 
 end to the conversation. Before doing this, he 
 had stepped to the front door, in answer to a 
 summons from the bell. A man stood on the 
 steps, and a handsome carriage had stopped at 
 the curbstone. 
 
 "Is Miss Armstrong ready to return home?" 
 asked the man, respectfully. He was evidently 
 the driver.
 
 88 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " Miss Armstrong will remain here, with her 
 friends, to night," answered Mr. Winne, in a 
 clear, decided voice. "Has Mrs. Monroe sent 
 for her?" 
 
 " Yes no, sir. I had orders to call for her," 
 stammered the man. 
 
 "Well, she will remain with us to-night," 
 was Mr. Winne's reply, and the man shuffled 
 down the steps, said a few words to some one 
 in the carriage, and it rolled away rapidly, with 
 the driver in his place. Before it went, how 
 ever, Mr. Winne knew whose ring it was that 
 for a moment flashed in the gas-light, on the 
 h'rm white hand that held the carriage door. 
 
 He did not speak of it afterwards, and Jennie 
 did not know how near Eoss Farnham had been 
 to her. For that last night she was her old self 
 along with the girls.
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 "And the jest seldom slips 
 But it strikes a tender chord, 
 And a smile was on the lips 
 Of the wretch who sold his Lord!" 
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 
 
 HERE was a young girl who left her 
 country home to find a situation in the 
 city. She was beautiful and refined, 
 had been tenderly nurtured, and her parents 
 were very unwilling to part with her, but it 
 seemed necessary. Weeks and months passed 
 away and there carne no word of her to her 
 anxious friends. Finally, her old father, dis 
 tracted w r ith fear and anxiety, went to the city 
 to look for her. He searched a long time and 
 found many lost girls but not his own, and as 
 all the dreadful temptations of life were revealed 
 to him, lie shuddered over the possible fate of 
 (89)
 
 gO AGAINST FATE. 
 
 his darling child. But one day it was revealed 
 to him that she was dead that she had died 
 the day she reached the city of a sudden attack 
 of heart disease. "When satisfied of the truth 
 the father shouted and clapped his hands for 
 joy ! People thought he had gone mad and 
 pitied him, but he smiled at their pity and said : 
 " To think that all the time I have been worry 
 ing and fretting about her, she was safe with the 
 angels ! Oh, how glad her mother will be when 
 I go home and tell her !" 
 
 I think there are many fathers who might 
 feel as this one did. that their children would 
 have been better cared for, had they died before 
 the struggle for life began. Yet, as the grand 
 lesson of triumph can only be learned through 
 the severe discipline of trial, the world is the 
 fittest school. They who have fallen by the 
 wayside and perished, need no longer our help 
 nor our tears. It is for those who have fallen 
 and not perished, who stretch out imploring 
 hands for our care, our sympathy in their 
 extremity, who have loved much and suffered 
 much, it is for them the Christ of to-day 
 pleads.
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 91 
 
 At this very moment the toils of sin are 
 closing in upon some weak soul. The prac 
 ticed hand of vice is leading some weary, lonely 
 victim into the short, bright road to perdition. 
 It is not the church nor the Sunday-school that 
 is needed here ; it is the motherly, Christian 
 hand, irrespective of creeds or conditions, the 
 gentle, womanly voice to warn and save. 
 
 Ross Farnham, for it was he, rode away from 
 Mr. Winne's door in an exceedingly ill humor. 
 lie had sent regrets to a brilliant party for the 
 purpose of escorting Jennie home, and regaling 
 himself with an hour of her pleasant talk, and 
 he was not accustomed to finding his wishes 
 disregarded 'and obstructions in his way. The 
 cool manner in which Mr. Winne had consti 
 tuted himself Jennie's guardian, annoyed him, 
 and he was still more vexed with himself for 
 not having informed Jennie in advance of his 
 intention of calling. He felt sure that she 
 would have gone with him despite df any inter 
 ference of officious friends, for he knew she was 
 influenced by the glamour of a first love, and he 
 sighed to himself and envied her the blissful 
 possession.
 
 92 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 He drove to a fashionable club house on 
 "Wabash avenue and was soon comfortably seated 
 in the lounging room, a bottle of wine at his 
 elbow, his feet in embroidered slippers, and 
 a costly gold-topped meerschaum sending up 
 clouds of perfumed smoke as he mused and 
 looked into the glowing grate fire. 
 
 Other gentlemen lounged and smoked, and 
 presently one came in and drew a chair close 
 to him. 
 
 "Ah ! good evening, Bates, glad to see you. 
 What will you have, cogniac ? very good. Here, 
 you fellow," he called to a man, apparently 
 a waiter, who was leaning at the corner of the 
 mantel, his arms folded tightly over his chest, 
 " Bring this gentleman's order." 
 
 The man straightened himself up, looked 
 fixedly in the face of the speaker, flashed a 
 glance of strange intelligence at him, and 
 walked away. 
 
 " What a lout !" exclaimed Farnham. " He 
 must be a new servant, and yet I am positive 
 I have seen that cadaverous face before ?" 
 
 The "fellow" soon returned, accompanied by 
 a second waiter, who set the refreshments in
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 93 
 
 place and retired. Then the first one took up 
 his old position by the mantel, where he seemed 
 to melt into the shadows. Neither of the gen 
 tlemen noticed what disposition he made of 
 himself. 
 
 Mr. Bates, the senior partner of the firm of 
 Bates & Rockwell, drank his cogniac, and be 
 tween times smoked and talked with Ross 
 Farnham. When the two had exhausted finance 
 and politics, they turned to other and pleasanter 
 subjects. 
 
 " I say, Farnham," remarked Bates, pleasant 
 ly, "who was the pretty little girl you were 
 driving out on the avenue last Thursday ? 
 From the country, I should say ?" 
 
 " That ! let me see! Oh, she is a young lady 
 my cousin employs as amanuensis and compan 
 ion. She never gets a breath of air, and her 
 folks were kind to me last summer when I 
 had that infernal fall, and so I procured her the 
 situation. She is pretty, and belongs to a good 
 family and has been well brought up ; but they 
 are all poor as church mice." 
 
 "Disinterested kindness," sneered Mr. Bates. 
 " It 's a bad beginning for the girl, but that 's
 
 94 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 her look out. Mean to set her up like a queen, 
 eh?" 
 
 "I haven't decided," answered Farnham, 
 coolly. " It 's a sight of trouble, but I think 
 in this case the game is well worth the candle." 
 
 "I feel a sort of interest," said Mr. Bates, 
 leaning his head back, and puffing out clouds of 
 purple smoke, while his eyes closed tranquilly, 
 "because hem, hem there's a girl in the 
 store who came from the same place. She is 
 handsome, too, as a picture, and like all of them 
 at first, high strung and , full of notions; but 
 she '11 get over it. They all do ; only Margaret 
 Holmes who would have thought it has 
 turned a bit jealous, and shows fight if I go 
 near the Bartlett girl. I can manage, however. 
 I have had more difficult tasks than this." 
 
 " There is one means that seldom fails," said 
 Ross Farnham, deliberately, holding up the long, 
 slim-necked bottle at his elbow, and looking 
 through its half measure of crystal rosiness. 
 
 "You mean wine," answered Bates, approv 
 ingly. " Yes, that is certain, if you can only 
 get them to taste it. Do you remember that 
 pretty little Clara; the girl that floored half our
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 95 
 
 set last winter? What a time Jack Wood had 
 getting that girl to taste a glass of wine. She 
 carried him to the verge of insanity with her 
 innocent flirtations, and then coolly laughed at 
 him for his folly. She never turned giddy in 
 the least, till he finally, by strategy of some 
 sort, got her to drink a glass of champagne. 
 After that she went to destruction fast enough. 
 She made a desperate trial to reform, and there 
 were good women to help her, but it would n't 
 do. She could not live without excitement and 
 luxury. Her friends would not speak to her or 
 own her, and she took the shortest route to 
 perdition." 
 
 " What became of her, at last," asked Farn- 
 ham, knocking the ashes from his cigar. 
 
 " Died ! and by her own hand. She had an 
 interview with Jack Wood the day before she 
 poisoned herself, and they say she just made his 
 hair stand up with fright at the solemn way 
 she talked. You know he reformed, and is now 
 the exemplary head of a family." 
 
 " I do n't see as he was to blame, particularly," 
 said Farnham, taking a long draught from his 
 replenished glass, " It has always been a man's
 
 96 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 privilege to ask, and a woman's to refuse. He 
 gave her all she could ask wealth, ease, and 
 luxury." 
 
 " Yes ; all but an honest name. I suppose 
 there is something in that beyond our sophistry." 
 
 "An honest name! Great God! " Koss Farn- 
 ham grew excited, and threw away his cigar. 
 " How many thousands of women have dragged 
 out their lives in penury and hardship to pre 
 serve an honest name, and what good did it ever 
 do them ? Does the world rise up, and, seeing 
 through their pitiless make-shifts, give them of 
 its bounty ? Are they not misused, and hunted, 
 and maligned by the very champions of virtue ? 
 Their honest wages are cut down, all avenues of 
 employment are overfilled, the wolf is at the 
 door not one wolf, but an hundred and their 
 compensation is an honest name ! " 
 
 " There is something in that we do not under 
 stand, Farnham. But we both know there are 
 women who would starve to death by inches, till 
 the miserable tortured body gave up its last 
 claim, rather than surrender one iota of the spir 
 it's purity. It is an instinct stronger than life 
 with them. Such women cannot be tempted.
 
 rsr 
 
 " I hace iititsxed your cowardly h&irt, he aaid." Page 99.
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 97 
 
 You know how cruel the world is to the woman 
 who steps aside from the narrow path of virtue. 
 It does not ask what her temptation may be. It 
 is of small account beside her disgrace." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," answered Farn- 
 ham, yawning. "I know this; they have the 
 worst of it here; but if there is a hereafter, and I 
 for one believe there is, there will be a heavy score 
 to settle against us. I am going to rny punish 
 ment with my eyes open, for I never believed 
 that, of two responsible human beings, with 
 equal attributes in the sight of Heaven, one was 
 to have all the privileges and the other all the 
 penalties. If I go scot free in this world, I shall 
 have my turn in the next; but if a class of 
 human beings are born into the world pre 
 ordained to destruction, I am but the instru 
 ment of fate." 
 
 " Well, I should never add hypocrisy to my 
 other sins. I am not a praying member in a 
 church, and you know what my home life has 
 been. I should never use unfair means to in 
 duce any girl to place herself under my protec 
 tion. There are women, respectably married, in 
 this city to-day, who can testify to that. It is a 
 7
 
 98 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 question that involves an immense amount of 
 speculative thought, and no one has ever reached 
 a satisfactory solution." 
 
 " Then it is useless for us to begin. Now here 
 is a girl," Farriham spoke in a low tone, " who 
 is as lovely as a Grecian model. She has educa 
 tion, refinement, and, so far, good principles, 
 though no fixed character. She was dissatisfied 
 with her country home and her farmer lover, and 
 the poverty of her surroundings. She has an 
 unsatiated thirst for the beautiful. She admires 
 all the precious things wealth can bestow. She 
 wants luxury, diamonds, and cashmere, velvets 
 and laces, leisure instead of toil, and by G she 
 shall have them! 
 
 He had spoken in a low tone, but the man 
 standing motionless among the shadows heard 
 every word. Taking something from the breast 
 of his coat, he again folded his arms, and stood 
 motionless, as before. 
 
 " She does not expect you to marry her ? " 
 asked Mr. Bates. " Now, in my case, there can 
 be no delusion of that sort. With you it is only 
 natural that any girl you might honor with your 
 attention should aspire to a matrimonial right 
 to your name."
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 99 
 
 " I shall never marry," said Farnham. " I 
 know the world too well. Jennie Armstrong 
 may look forward to an ultimatum of marriage, 
 and there will be time enough to undeceive her. 
 She is madly in love with me now." 
 
 " LIAE ! " It was not the word that reverber 
 ated through the room, but the shot that fol 
 lowed it, and brought Ross Farnham to his feet, 
 with his right arm hanging helpless by his side. 
 The man who had stood by the mantel took a 
 step forward. " I have missed your cowardly 
 heart," he said; but that moment Ross Farn 
 ham raised his left hand, in which something 
 glittered. A second report cleft the air, and the 
 man dropped, with a dull sound, on the floor. 
 
 A crowd instantly gathered. Some one lifted 
 the limp form, and found life. The man was 
 shot through the lungs, and death must be 
 inevitable ; yet he was still breathing. 
 
 There was no paper nor memoranda to declare 
 who he was, or whence he came. He was not a 
 servant, and had never been seen in the club- 
 rooms before that evening. He was supposed to 
 be some gentleman's attendant, as his style of 
 dress was neither that of a servant nor a gentle-
 
 IOO AGAINST FATE. 
 
 man. "Who was he, and what was his object in 
 assaulting Mr. Farnham? 
 
 Meanwhile the man lay prostrate and uncon 
 scious. The pistol which he had aimed at his 
 enemy's heart was still clasped tightly in his 
 hand; his eyes were closed, his face was pallid, 
 and his breath came in great gasps. In this 
 state he was lifted to an improvised stretcher 
 and carried off to a remote hospital until such 
 time as he should die, or get well enough to be 
 be indicted for murder. 
 
 If Ross Farnham knew him in that moment, 
 he made no sign. A silken handkerchief had 
 been bound tightly about his own arm. It was 
 only a flesh wound, after all, and he had denied 
 to everybody who asked him any knowledge of 
 the man, or of his intentions. There were plenty 
 of people present who could conceive of sufficient 
 reason why a man of his reputation should be 
 in danger of an attack upon his life, but they 
 considered silence their best policy. 
 
 The next morning the daily papers published 
 glowing accounts of Mr. Farnham's bravery in 
 repulsing an assassin, and relegated the would- 
 be murderer to certain punishment as soon as
 
 THE CLUB HOUSE. 
 
 IOI 
 
 his wounded lungs should become sufficiently 
 healed. At this knowing people smiled, and re 
 marked that " Law and justice were two different 
 institutions."
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 MRS. MONROE S HUSBAND. 
 
 E was known to the world as such, his 
 identity being completely swallowed 
 up in that of his wife. How could it 
 be otherwise? He was not president of the 
 B. W. A. S., nor leader of a secret society, that 
 had processions in a cellar, and wore paper 
 cambric robes, nor treasurer of a Dorcas sewing 
 club, that did everything but sew, nor corre 
 spondent of a political reform organ. He had 
 never been invited to deliver addresses to the 
 working women, nor solicit aid for the unfor 
 tunate, or for the reform of the fallen. He was 
 merely an appendage to Mrs. Monroe, furnishing 
 her with a frescoed roof, paying her bills, and 
 reading her name in a newspaper report as the 
 agitator of some new scheme for a hospital or a 
 prison. He had never read her book on co 
 operative housekeeping, but he thought almost 
 U02)
 
 MRS. MONROE'S HUSBAND. 103 
 
 any housekeeping might be an improvement on 
 the home plan. He was so accustomed to see 
 his parlor occupied by spectacled women, carry 
 ing rolls of manuscript, petitions, and docu 
 ments, that when he found it empty he bowed to 
 the chairs, from mere force of habit. He loved 
 children, but it was one of his wife's idiosyn 
 crasies not to have any, while so many superflu 
 ous children were struggling for a place. She 
 had adopted one of those superfluous children 
 once, in a fit of enthusiasm, and for three months 
 of its life the baby was feted and feasted. It 
 slept in a rosewood crib, kindly loaned by Mrs. 
 Judge Smythe, was dressed in contributed laces 
 and finery, and its sleeves were tied up with gold 
 chains. Then a re-action set in. and it was 
 bundled off to the nurse, who bribed the cook to 
 take care of it at night, and so it caught its death 
 of cold. There was a splendid funeral, which all 
 the friends attended, and a poor relation, who 
 had fallen into disfavor, spitefully remarked that 
 half what that casket cost would have kept her 
 in coals for the winter! 
 
 The evening that Jennie spent at Mr. Whine's 
 Mr. Monroe found himself alone with his wife,
 
 104 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 a tete-a-tete she always avoided, and that he sel 
 dom enjoyed. He was a thin, slender man, with 
 a nervous mouth, half concealed by a chestnut 
 moustache. He looked just the sort of man to 
 be moulded by a woman. He had not force of 
 character enough to emphasize his own opinions. 
 He preferred to do right, and live up to his own 
 convictions, but was willing to sacrifice princi 
 ples to peace. His wife had frequently told 
 him that he ought to have married a Dora 
 Copperfield a home body, a pleasant sort of 
 idiot, and how fervently he sometimes wished 
 that he had. 
 
 He was visiting in his wife's room, now, 
 where he always felt like an intruder, although 
 he reposed nightly, when at home, beneath the 
 embroidered quilt, with a wax Cupid dangling 
 within an inch of his nose. On this night his 
 heart yearned for companionship, and he sought 
 his wife, with the forlorn hope that she might 
 care to amuse and entertain him. He found her 
 reading a statistical looking paper, cutting out 
 sentences, and marking annotations on the mar 
 gin. She was handsomely dressed, and looked 
 queenly and imposing.
 
 MRS. MONROE'S HUSBAND. 105 
 
 "Maria," he commenced, throwing himself 
 into a chair hung with rich embroidery, " what 
 are you reading? " 
 
 ''An article headed 'What to do with our 
 daughters.' I find some excellent things in it, 
 and I mean to write a paper on the subject and 
 read it at our next maternity meeting." 
 
 " We have n't any daughters. I did not know 
 that you cared about such matters." , 
 
 " Other people have daughters, Mr. Monroe," 
 answered his wife, loftily. 
 
 "Yes; and it is about them I would like to 
 speak. I saw that kitchen girl of yours what 
 is her name flaunting down street, when I 
 came in, and I think she needs a little motherly 
 care." 
 
 Mrs. Monroe laid down her paper. " 1 11 
 turn her out of the house to-morrow. I told 
 her I should if she went out another evening. 
 To think what I rescued that girl from, and now 
 this is her gratitude." 
 
 " You cannot expect to have all the virtues 
 for three dollars a week. I do not see how it 
 would improve matters, either, to turn her out 
 on the streets. You might easily interest your-
 
 I06 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 self enough in her to know where she is, and 
 how she passes her time. I suppose philan 
 thropy at home is as necessary as in charitable 
 institutions." 
 
 " Did you come up here on purpose to say 
 that, Mr. Monroe?" asked his wife, in a hard, 
 disagreeable voice. In talking to her husband, 
 there was none of that effusiveness that charac 
 terized her with acquaintances. "Because, if 
 you take so much interest in Sarah, you might 
 look after her yourself." 
 
 The man did not resent the insult. Naturally 
 affectionate and home -loving, though warped 
 aside by adverse influences, he longed, to-night, 
 with a homesickness that was pain, for the 
 company of a congenial nature. 
 
 " Will you play Bezique? " he asked, presently, 
 as his wife resumed her reading. 
 
 She consented ungraciously, and so an hour 
 passed, and the clock struck nine. 
 
 " Where is Jennie? " asked Mr. Monroe, 
 putting the cards in the cribbage box. 
 
 " She has been spending the day at Mr. 
 "Winne's, with some friends. I expect she will 
 stay all night, unless Boss should call for her."
 
 MRS. MONROE'S HUSBAND. 107 
 
 " Maria," said Mr. Monroe, gravely, bending 
 over the table that separated him from his wife, 
 "Do you know what you are doing? You are 
 helping that girl to her ruin." 
 
 His wife threw down the paper she had re 
 sumed. " I do not understand," she said, an 
 grily, "I have rescued her from poverty and 
 obscurity, and given her the means of help 
 ing herself and her parents. If that should 
 prove her ruin you cannot blame me." 
 
 "At whose suggestion did you do it? Not 
 mine. You engaged that girl to come here as a 
 sort of factotum, because Ross Farnham took a 
 fancy to her last summer. You know what he 
 is; and yet you throw her in his way, and give 
 her no warning. If she falls, the price of her 
 dishonor is your lawful wages." 
 
 " She is not a child," answered his wife, an 
 angry light gleaming in her eyes. " She must 
 take her chances with the rest of the world. I 
 have advised and instructed her, and told her 
 she might make herself a name in some intel 
 lectual way. She is well educated, and has read 
 a great deal, and I could forward her interests in 
 many ways; but she has no taste for such high
 
 108 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 pursuits. 'Now there is my lecture on physical 
 culture. I have offered to let her read it at dif 
 ferent places she has really a fine voice but 
 she has. no self reliance. There is nothing pro 
 gressive about her. She has been taught at her 
 mother's apron strings, and has just one set of 
 ideas." 
 
 " It is a pity she had not staid there. Her 
 beauty and ignorance are both against her here. 
 You women who are always meddling with re 
 forms never use the material at hand. How 
 many of you interest yourselves in the souls 
 under your own roof ? It is the unknown 
 heathen you labor to convert." 
 
 Mr. Monroe seldom denounced his wife's the 
 ories as bitterly as he did to-night. He had 
 married her at a venture, and lost. That there 
 were circumstances in her past life not to her 
 credit, he did not care to know. He knew too 
 much as it was. He was master in his own 
 house in only one way. He paid the bills, and 
 the servants run the domestic machinery on the 
 co-operative plan; that is, they co-operated to 
 see that their respective . households did not 
 want.
 
 MRS. MONROE'S HUSBAND. IOQ 
 
 As he went out of her room, preparatory to 
 putting on his overcoat to spend a social even 
 ing elsewhere, his wife looked after him. " How 
 I hate you ! " was the thought uppermost in her 
 mind. Before his footsteps had died away on 
 the pavement, she was writing an article on the 
 tyranny of marriage, which other dissatisfied 
 women should read and applaud. 
 
 She did not care where nor how he spent his 
 time, so that he did not interfere with her self 
 ishly lazy life. She felt no moral obligation to 
 make his home happy and comfortable, and to 
 minister to his wants with her own hands. Ne 
 cessity had not driven her to her present pursuits 
 for bread and butter. A wholesome course of 
 physical labor would soon have cured her of any 
 tendency to invalidism. She had elected herself 
 as champion of her sex, and yet it was true that 
 she had turned a young and thoughtless girl into 
 the streets at midnight, because Mr. Monroe, re 
 turning late from a club supper, had met her in 
 the hall, and attempted to kiss her! It was a 
 very reprehensible act, no doubt, in one denied 
 legitimate caresses, but the punishment for it 
 should have been visited on him alone.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 
 
 HE morning after Thanksgiving day 
 Jennie awoke, and found that it was 
 very late. The other two girls had 
 risen without disturbing Ixer, their time being 
 limited to certain hours; and when she went 
 down to the breakfast room she found Mrs. 
 Whine alone with the children, lingering over 
 the toast and coffee, and looking very much an 
 noyed. When Jennie entered, with excuses for 
 her late appearance. Mrs. Winne handed her the 
 morning paper. 
 
 "You will find some news there," she said 
 coldly. " I think you are interested in the mat 
 ter. Who do you think the man is that Ross 
 Farnham shot last night ? " 
 
 Jennie heard but one sentence. " Ross Farn 
 ham ! Shot ! Last night ! " the room spun 
 
 round, and all the world turned dark. The color 
 (110)
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. Ill 
 
 left her cheeks and lips, and she stood staring 
 blankly at the paper in her hand. 
 
 " Do n't look so dreadfully," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Winne, " there is n't anybody killed, but there 
 might have been. Head that paper, and see." 
 
 " Who was it tried to kill Koss,Mrs. Winne? " 
 asked Jennie, with white lips. 
 
 "Albert said it was Eeuben Harlow. He felt 
 dreadfully about it, Jennie, and blamed you 
 pretty severely; but I don't see how you can 
 help them falling in love with you." 
 
 Jennie read the notice as well as she could, 
 and saw that no one was killed at least that 
 Ross was not then she flung the paper on the 
 table, and began to cry. 
 
 " I wish Reuben Harlow would mind his own 
 affairs. What business has he to watch a gen 
 tleman like Mr. Farnham, and call him to ac 
 count? If he had killed him, it would have 
 been murder! I hate Reuben, and he might 
 know it by this time. How dared he follow me 
 to the city!" 
 
 " Oh, Jennie, do be careful ! " suggested Mrs. 
 Winne, who, from never having any of her own, 
 rather enjoyed sensations in other people's love
 
 112 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 affairs. " I do n't believe Ross Farnham has any 
 idea of marrying you, and you ought not to 
 accept his attentions. I wish you had never 
 gone to Mrs. Monroe's. If I were you I would 
 go home again." 
 
 "Home!" Jennie shut her eyes and con 
 jured up a vision of the old, unpainted, tumble 
 down house, the dilapidated farm, and the days 
 that were all like Sundays, with the toil-worn 
 pair who could give her nothing but their love, 
 and to whom life had been one perpetual rainy 
 day. No! She could not go home! 
 
 Mrs. Winne gave her some good advice at part 
 ing, for which she thanked her, and then set out 
 for Mrs. Monroe's. The day was bright and 
 cold, the air pure and invigorating, -but Jennie 
 walked steadily along, her eyes bent on the 
 ground. She was taking a practical look at life, 
 and trying to expunge all the blue and rose color 
 from its neutral gray. As she walked along 
 thus she looked prettier and more bewitching 
 than ever. Not the most studied coquetry could 
 have made her face so attractive as the pretty air 
 of perplexity that drew her cherry lips into a 
 delicious Cupid's bow, and arched her dark and
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 115 
 
 dainty eyebrows into a sinuous line, and sent the 
 long, quivering lashes downward, like pencil- 
 lings, on the clear red of her cheeks. A coarse, 
 bright shawl was wrapped about her slendei 
 form, one end falling over her shoulder. Her 
 plain straw hat had a red wing jauntily set in the 
 velvet band, and, with all the lights and colors 
 of her dress, and of herself, she resembled some 
 rare tropical bird. So thought Ross Farnham, 
 as he looked after her, his heart full of admira 
 tion and would you call it love? She had 
 passed him so close that her fluttering silken 
 hair had brushed his arm the arm carried in a 
 sling but she either did not or would not see 
 him. He turned and looked after her for a mo 
 ment with a surprised air, and then, with a 
 rapid motion or two, was at her side. 
 
 "Miss Armstrong," lifting his hat, as she 
 turned at the sound of his voice, " are you so> 
 pre-occupied that you cannot see your friends? " 
 
 Jennie looked at him without any of her usual 1 
 pretty embarrassment; but the sight of his 
 wounded arm touched her visibly. Her heart 
 beat so violently she could with difficulty speak. 
 
 "I am in a great hurry," she said. "It is
 
 114 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 late, and Mrs. Monroe will need me; besides, 
 Mr. Farnham, I have seen the paper, and and 
 my friends think "then, suddenly chang 
 ing to an anxious, natural tone, " Was it Reuben 
 Harlow who shot you, Mr. Farnham? " 
 
 " I presume it was," he replied, indifferently. 
 " I did not notice the fellow particularly." 
 
 "Was he was he killed?" in a horror- 
 stricken voice. 
 
 "Killed! no! no! not half so bad as that. I 
 will see that he wants nothing, since you are so 
 interested in him; and I assure you his hurt is 
 not more serious than mine. Only no one cares 
 in the least that I am hurt," and he sighed 
 despondently. 
 
 " Your friends will all care, Mr. Farnham, but 
 I have known Reuben Harlow since I was a 
 little child, and I cannot bear to think he should 
 lose his life for me; I am not worth it." 
 
 Ross Farnham thought she was worth that, 
 and a great deal more, as he looked into her shy, 
 brown eyes, filled with tears of the deepest con 
 trition. A sudden impulse came over him to 
 release himself from the bonds of his set, and own 
 her before the world as his chosen wife. But
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 11$ 
 
 the demon of pride held him back, and a more 
 cruel demon whispered its evil counsel. He held 
 out his hand to Jennie, and whispered one 
 charmed word, " Darling! " 
 
 How often, in the last few weeks, she had 
 blushed a celestial red at this tender word. How 
 it had thrilled her poor little deluded heart with 
 a passionate delight; but now she shook her 
 head sadly. She must not let him say it any 
 more. 
 
 " Mr. Farnham," she began in a dignified 
 voice, "my friends blame me very much for 
 what has happened, and think I have not been 
 particular enough in remembering my position. 
 I do not care in the least for Reuben Harlow, 
 or or any one else in that way; and I know I 
 ought not to accept attentions from any gentle 
 man, unless " she stopped and looked at 
 him pitifully, " unless as his promised wife. 
 I am a poor girl, and must make my own way 
 in the world, and not give anyone the chance to 
 say cruel or unkind things about me." 
 
 " Who has dared to say unkind things ? Let 
 me know who dares even to hint at any such 
 calumny," he exclaimed in a fierce whisper,
 
 Il6 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 that made Jennie's foolish heart thrill with 
 
 jy- 
 
 " They blame me for what happened last night; 
 but I did not even know, until then, that Reu 
 ben Harlow was in the city. Tell me, Mr. Farn- 
 ham, how did it happen. What was the quarrel 
 about?" 
 
 " I shall not tell you one word if you talk in 
 that way. Call me Ross; not that cold Mr. 
 Farnham. There is nothing to tell, really, only 
 that Mr. Harlow did me the great honor of being 
 jealous of me, and intended then and there to 
 put it out of my power to love anybody. I 
 merely defended myself by a return shot. Would 
 you have cared, Jennie, if I had been killed? 
 Answer me truly, darling." 
 
 He looked into her troubled eyes with a ten 
 derness that was magnetizing. She felt the 
 influence of that look, and hastened to break it. 
 
 " Killed! Oh, Ross! What am I saying. I 
 cannot bear to think that any life might have 
 been lost for such a foolish, giddy girl. What 
 would my father and mother say? I can never 
 be anything to Reuben Harlow, nor to anyone 
 else. I am a poor girl, working for my living,
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 1 1/ 
 
 and I need to be more careful than those who 
 have home and friends to care for them. My 
 family have always been honorable and respect 
 able, if they are poor," 
 
 Ross Farnham thought he had never admired 
 her so much as at that moment. Her eyes were 
 filled with the sweet dew of humility, and when 
 she repeated the assertion, " I am a poor girl," 
 she looked up at him with a pride that rivalled 
 his own. Almost he was ashamed of himself. 
 Almost he determined to let this little wild 
 flower bloom unplucked, or else to wear it in his 
 bosom, that all the world might see. Then the 
 hydra-headed serpent of selfishness reared itself 
 in his sight, and his spasm of goodness was over. 
 
 " You are tired and depressed," he said, kindly. 
 "Do not let any narrow-minded, conservative 
 set of people sway you into their narrow groove 
 of thought and action. As for myself, 1 am will 
 ing to die in your service. I cherish this 
 wounded arm as a soldier does his medal of 
 honor. Am I presumptuous ! Good bye, till I 
 see you again." He lifted his hat, looked at her 
 with a half sad smile, and turned back at his 
 cousin's door.
 
 Il8 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 It was all very fine acting, but how was Jennie 
 to know? She had never been to a theatre, and 
 by no comparison could decide the real from the 
 ideal. When Ross Farnham looked at her in 
 that way, her world was conquered. 
 
 Mrs. Monroe was not exactly in good humor 
 when Jennie reached home. The B. W. A. S. 
 correspondence had got into a snarl. The treas 
 urer had reported fourteen cents on hand, after 
 a three o'clock lunch which the society had in 
 dulged in, but on demand, it was found to be 
 only eleven cents. Three had been feloniously 
 abstracted. Every member looked at every other 
 member with suspicion, when the affair was 
 known, and sent in a four-page letter of remon 
 strance to the President. All the letters had ar 
 rived in one mail that morning, while the presi 
 dent was taking her tea and toast in bed, and they 
 had literally overwhelmed her. Jennie tried to 
 sort out the letters and put them in shape, 
 expecting every moment that Mrs. Monroe 
 would allude to the account in the morning 
 papers. She did not, however, for the suffi 
 cient reason that she knew nothing about it. 
 If Mr. Monroe had seen the intelligence, he
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 1 19 
 
 had not thought it worth while to enlighten 
 his wife. 
 
 ' " You can take the tray out, Jennie," said Mrs. 
 Monroe, "and hand me the paper. Raise the 
 curtain a little. Tell Esther I would like a. sago 
 pudding for lunch, and see what that giddy 
 Sarah is about. You can answer those letters this 
 afternoon. If I feel well enough I will try to 
 attend the maternity meeting at Mrs. Field's. 
 You might get out my seal-skin cloak and cap, 
 and tell Horace to be ready with the carriage at 
 two." 
 
 Jennie withdrew and quickly fulfilled her or 
 ders. She was in her own room, when a loud 
 scream from Mrs. Monroe startled her, though 
 she instantly divined what it meant. Her heart 
 throbbed guiltily as she entered the room and 
 saw Mrs. Monroe looking very white and stern, 
 her finger placed on a paragraph in the paper. 
 
 " Girl ! " sh.e exclaimed, as Jennie stood silent 
 and abashed before her, "see what you have 
 done! I hope you are satisfied with the mis 
 chief you have wrought. It is not enough that 
 Ross Farnham has rescued you from poverty and 
 obscurity, but you must be the means of nearly
 
 120 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 costing him his life, with your baby face and 
 childish ways. Who is this man who tried to 
 shoot him down like an assassin ? " 
 
 "It is Eeuben Harlow. He has been in the 
 city for some time, but I did not know it till 
 last night. He has no right to watch me, or any 
 one who is seen in my company. I don't see 
 how you can blame me, Mrs. Monroe, for what 
 has happened." 
 
 " I do blame you for always thrusting your 
 self into notice when Mr. Farnham is here. I 
 have tried my best to make you think of higher 
 objects in life than the admiration and attention 
 of gentlemen. Let me tell you, Ross Farnham 
 will never marry you. He will wring all the 
 sweetness from your life, and throw r it away an 
 utter wreck. If you have learned to love him, 
 unlearn it as soon as you can. You will have 
 no recompense in this w T orld. I wish you had 
 never seen him." 
 
 Ah| if she had only told Jennie her own story 
 then told it, not in bitterness and anger, but 
 in womanly sorrow and humility, what after 
 hours of anguish might have been spared her. 
 
 Jennie answered none of the accusations
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 121 
 
 against her, but went about her duties for the 
 day without a word. Her heart was full to 
 overflowing, and she saw everything through a 
 mist of tears. " He loves ine not ; he loves me 
 not, and I have given my heart to him beyond 
 recall," she kept thinking over and over. She 
 was glad when Mrs. Monroe was dressed and 
 ready for the maternity meeting. " I wonder," 
 she thought, " if they will discuss me among 
 them." 
 
 She went back up stairs into the empty rooms 
 and began putting them in order. They were 
 full of carved beauty and embroidered sentiment, 
 but among them a human soul was being rent 
 and torn, and it was valued the least of any 
 thing there. "What shall I do; what shall I 
 do ? " the girl was saying to herself repeatedly, 
 as she folded splendid robes and laid them away. 
 It seemed, already, as if disgrace had overtaken 
 her. She finished her duties, and then- threw 
 herself into a chair and tried to think. 
 
 Mrs. Monroe had a very comfortable time at 
 the maternity meeting. She prayed fervently 
 for " the dear children committed to our care," 
 and was very gracious to everybody. She did
 
 122 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 not go to the office for her husband, but on her 
 way home'she picked up her cousin, just parting 
 from some ladies who had gushed sympathetic 
 ally over him. They had a long confidential 
 talk before they reached home, and there were 
 traces of angry tears on Mrs. Monroe's enamelled 
 cheeks when she stepped from her carriage. 
 Ross did not go into the house. He gave his 
 cousin's coachman a direction, and drove away. 
 They stopped near the corner of Eighteenth 
 street and Wabash avenue. 
 
 " You can return home," said Mr. Farnham, 
 placing a liberal douceur in the man's hand. 
 He walked on until he came to a handsome mar 
 ble front house, which looked as if it were shut 
 up and forsaken, all the shutters being closed 
 and the bars dropped. He rang the silver- 
 handled bell, and, after a very brief delay, the 
 door was opened by a small boy, black and sleek. 
 
 " Is your mistress in? " asked Mr. Farnham, 
 following him into the darkened parlor. 
 
 "Yes, sir; missis is up stairs." 
 
 " Then give her this," and he laid his card in 
 the outstretched ebony palm. 
 
 The boy grinned, backed out of the room, and
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 123 
 
 with three bounds mounted the stately staircase 
 and delivered his message. 
 
 Boss Farnham, meanwhile, made himself per 
 fectly at home. He drew aside the costly 
 wrought lace curtains from the windows, and, 
 opening one, turned back the closed shutters. 
 Then he took a critical survey of the apartment. 
 It was faultlessly splendid in all its elegant ap 
 pointments, velvet carpets of rose and wood color, 
 gold-leaf and drab on the walls, mosaic tables, 
 mirrors, pictures of rarest beauty and value, lux 
 urious chairs and divans, no two alike, and rare 
 and costly bric-a-brac everywhere. Not a speck 
 of dust nor a sign of disorder was visible, nor yet 
 any of the stiffness or newness of elegant fur 
 nishings. In an arch at the end of the room 
 were three exquisite statues of Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity, and upon a background of Cardinal red 
 velvet hung Thorvaldsen's Night and Morning 
 in bas-relief. 
 
 A slight rustle at the door announced the mis 
 tress of all this grandeur. Farnham was exam 
 ining a new engraving on the centre table. He 
 lifted his eyes a moment, nodded coolly, and 
 went on with his inspection.
 
 124 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 The woman who entered was about twenty- 
 eight years old, tall and slender, and dark, with 
 flashing black eyes and stormy brows. Her 
 cheeks were redder than nature intended them 
 to be, and her dress was too elaborate for a home 
 toilet. Her features were small and regular, but 
 worn by care or dissipation. She started when 
 she saw the wounded arm. 
 
 " Have you come for me to nurse you," she 
 asked, in a voice not inharmonious, but lacking 
 culture. " I saw this morning you were in 
 trouble. Who is it about this time?" 
 
 "That is what I came to talk about, Helen; I 
 felt sure that I could trust you." 
 
 "Don't be too sure," said the woman mock 
 ingly, while a sudden gleam lightened her bad, 
 dark eyes. " You have not been here for a long 
 time; but I know where you have been." 
 
 " Do you? Then it is unnecessary for me to 
 tell you. I came here on business to-day. Do 
 you care to renew the lease of this house, or 
 shall I let it to another tenant?" 
 
 "You did not come here to-day to ask me 
 that, Ross; you are trying to frighten me, but it
 
 JUDAS IN PETTICOATS. 12$ 
 
 is of no use. We have too many mutual inter 
 ests at stake to quarrel." 
 
 " I am glad you think so, Helen. Now listen, 
 and I will tell you the reason of my present 
 visit. You will find it to your interest to serve 
 me faithfully." 
 
 They held a long conference, the nature of 
 which these pages will in due time reveal.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A FEATHER HE DID NOT WEAR. 
 
 VA had left her situation. It happened 
 in this way: Mr. Bates had decided in 
 his own mind that something definite 
 must be done to forward his wicked project in 
 regard to Eva, therefore the morning after his 
 encounter with Ross Farnham he decided to 
 approach the subject as nearly as he dared, by 
 inviting her to accompany him to the theatre in 
 the evening. A new play, by some local genius, 
 was attracting attention, and Eva had unguard 
 edly expressed, in his hearing, a wish to see it. 
 Taking an opportunity, when he had some orders 
 to give concerning the stock, he invited her, in a 
 whispered communication that caused her cheeks 
 to redden consciously, for she felt that the eyes 
 of the other employees were upon her. She 
 
 never could tell what answer she did make, but 
 
 (126)
 
 A FEATHER HE DID NOT WEAR. I2/ 
 
 it must have been construed into an affirmative 
 one, for he said, in the same cautious monotone: 
 
 " I will be there with the carriage at eight, or 
 a little earlier. You can leave the store at three, 
 to-day;" and he passed on, leaving the bewildered 
 girl in a maze of doubt and surprise. She saw 
 the other girls looking and smiling, some with 
 envious shrugs and side glances of mocking 
 disdain. Help it she could not, but it seemed to 
 her as if some barrier of innocence had been 
 thrown down, since last she looked at them, and 
 her cheeks flamed as if she were already guilty. 
 Margaret Holmes was not in the store that day. 
 She had a cold, and sore throat, and had staid at 
 home to take care of herself, protesting against 
 the enforced idleness. She dreaded being absent 
 ' from the store for one day, feeling that Eva 
 needed her protection every moment. She had 
 become very fond of the young girl, who was 
 giving her whole heart to her work, enduring its 
 toil and nameless hardships for the sake of the 
 dear ones at home, and she vowed to herself that 
 not the shadow of harm should come to her 
 while she lived to avert it. 
 
 Margaret had grown very restless as the time
 
 128 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 came near for Eva's return. A forlorn woman, 
 who had been trying to get a situation for at 
 least a year, and had baited the wolf at her door 
 with bits of sewing, odd jobs of nursing, and 
 copying, a strange combination, had been in, 
 with a flushed face, to say that she had secured 
 a job for the winter, of making waterproofs at 
 forty cents each. 
 
 " Why, L would have taken them at twenty- 
 five cents," she said, " rather than not have had 
 them. I can make two a day easily, by sitting 
 up nights at the button-holes. I declare I had 
 to come and tell you of my good luck. The 
 Lord does seem to remember us sometimes. 11 ' 
 
 Margaret Holmes smiled sadly as the rv^ty 
 alpaca dress of her visitor vanisned from sight. 
 
 " I wonder," she rnused aloud, " if He does 
 care that we suffer, and lack every good thing in 
 life, and if it is really true that He sees our 
 compensation, and knows that our sorrow 
 endures only for a day ? I am sure, when I was 
 a girl, all my impulses were good, and I had 
 such a sincere belief that God would take care 
 of me, until " then she clasped her hands over 
 her thin face, flushed with fever " until it was
 
 A FEATHER HE DID NOT WEAR. 129 
 
 too late ! Oh God, how true that homely sen 
 tence is, that our lives are made up of just two 
 regrets: 'I wish that I had, and I wish that I 
 had n't.' I wonder, if I had my life to live over 
 again, if I should do any better ! " 
 
 Just then a pleasant looking little woman, 
 whose room was next door, Iooke4 in, and asked 
 Margaret if she felt better. " I thought your 
 room-mate was here," she said. " I met her 
 early this afternoon, and supposed she was 
 coming home to sit with you." 
 
 " Met Eva ! I think you must be mistaken. 
 She cannot leave the store until six." 
 
 " Oh no, there was no mistake. She was 
 walking very slowly, and looking about her; but 
 she did not notice me. I observed her particu 
 larly, she had such a lovely color." 
 
 Margaret Holmes said no more, and the caller 
 went into her own room. When the door had 
 closed and she was alone, Margaret sank back on 
 the lounge, where she had lain all day, and 
 clasped her hands in perplexity. 
 
 " What has happened to take her out of the 
 store this afternoon ? Has he taken advantage 
 of this one day's absence to further his infernal 
 9
 
 130 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 schemes ? He shall not ! He shall not ! I have 
 sworn to my own soul to save this girl from the 
 fate that, sooner or later, is offered to them all ! 
 It is time she was here now; is that her step ?" 
 
 Yes, it was. Eva came in with an excitement 
 in her manner that was not natural. She asked 
 Margaret how. her headache was, without looking 
 at her; moved her things restlessly from one 
 place to another, and finally went down to supper, 
 without alluding to the fact that she had left the 
 store earlier than usual. 
 
 Margaret asked no questions. She felt hurt at 
 this first want of confidence in her, surprised 
 and grieved at Eva's changed manner, and 
 distressed beyond measure at what it implied ; 
 but she deemed it wisest to be silent for the 
 present. 
 
 Eva merely made a pretense of supper, to 
 compose her mind over the events of the day. 
 She had left the store at three, and walked all 
 the way home, first, however, loitering through 
 the principal streets, which were gay with ele 
 gantly dressed ladies. The stores were trimmed 
 for the holidays, and presented a very bright 
 appearance. It was like an enchanted city to
 
 A FEATHER HE DID NOT WEAR. 131 
 
 Eva, looking at it with work-a-day eyes. She 
 passed the gorgeous theatre, and wondered how 
 it looked within when all the splendid chande 
 liers were alight. If only she had said no; yet 
 what harm could there be in going just once ? 
 She was sure she could take care of herself. She 
 knew that a very nice young lady had accompa 
 nied Mr. Bates quite lately, and as his wife was 
 absent no one thought anything of it. She 
 longed to see a play. Margaret would be very 
 angry, but why let her know? She was not 
 compelled to do as Margaret Holmes wanted her 
 to ; besides Margaret was prejudiced. She would 
 go just this once, and write all about it to her 
 good, sensible mother the next day. She had 
 not time to arrive at any decision before she had 
 to return to her room to get ready. She was 
 glad that Margaret was asleep, and moved about 
 very lightly as she changed her dress and ribbons, 
 and put on her best hat. She hoped to steal out 
 softly and not awaken the invalid, but as she 
 opened the door, a hand was laid on her shoulder 
 compelling her to turn. Margaret's face, white 
 and set, confronted her. 
 
 "Child! " she said, in low, husky tones, "you
 
 132 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 are going to do some wrong thing this night. 
 What is it?" 
 
 Eva had intended to pnt her off, or if obliged 
 to reveal anything, to be hard and defiant; but 
 she could not dissemble as she looked into that 
 face, behind which an awful shadow seemed 
 lurking the shadow of death ! it was so 
 white and solemn ! She led Margaret back to 
 the lounge, and kneeling beside her, pillowed the 
 hot head on her arms, while she told her, with 
 sobs of feeling, the truth! 
 
 When she had finished Margaret Holmes arose 
 from the lounge. " Give me your hat and shawl," 
 she said firmly; " and your blue veil, quick! We 
 are the same height. Here, help me arrange the 
 veil. Now, child, pray God I may be permitted 
 to be your deliverer." 
 
 She passed out of the room, and down the 
 stairs to the hall door. As she opened it she 
 saw a carriage drawn under the lamps. She 
 moved quickly toward it, the cold air cutting her 
 thin frame like a knife. 
 
 " I was so afraid you would not come. How 
 did you manage?" asked a well-known voice 
 within. So far the disguise answered.
 
 A FEATHER HE DID NOT WEAR. 133 
 
 The driver held the door open, and the veiled 
 and disguised figure sprang in, and the next 
 moment the horses moved rapidly away. 
 
 " You are shivering," said Mr. Bates, for it 
 was he; "let me wrap this carriage robe around 
 you. You were so good to come. Did Margaret 
 Holmes suspect anything?" 
 
 He had not considered it necessary to remove 
 his arm after encircling the trembling form with 
 the furry robe, and he now endeavored to turn 
 the unwilling face toward him, and was trying to 
 look through the obscurity of the blue veil, when 
 a feverish hand withdrew it, and a worn, white 
 face confronted him. Thrown entirely off his 
 guard, he uttered a fierce oath and glared angrily 
 at her; then he muttered sullenly: 
 
 " You are determined, it seems, to cross my 
 path. I do not know what your reasons are, but 
 I shall put it out of your power to watch me any 
 further; I will suifer no spy on my actions, you, 
 least of all. I require your services no longer 
 in any capacity." 
 
 " Defy me if you choose," answered Margaret, 
 firmly; u I am what you made me. It seems 
 you do not fear me any longer; for myself I ask
 
 134 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 nothing; I accept my dismissal; but if you ever 
 dare to offer jour wicked attentions to this young 
 girl, whom I have saved to-night from villainy 
 she does not dream of, I will denounce you to 
 the world you deceive and the family you so 
 wickedly wrong. You need to fear me; my 
 ruined life shall haunt you yet, a dark spectre of 
 your own conjuring. Something tells me that 
 these are my last words to you; remember them 
 when you come to die! " 
 
 She stopped the carriage, got out, and walked 
 home, with a w.eariness of body she did not notice, 
 and a pain at her heart that was like mortal 
 agony, as she entered the portals of the Home. 
 When she left it again it was for a longer 
 journey.
 
 CHAPTEE XY. 
 
 ON THE BRINK. 
 
 HEN Jennie had finished the duties 
 devolving upon her in the absence of 
 Mrs. Monroe, she went into her own 
 little room and sat down to think to try to 
 think, would be nearer the truth. Her mind was 
 in a maze of perplexity and trouble, and she 
 longed for some help to enable her to walk in the 
 right way. She had never been taught to rely 
 upon herself. The world had been to her as a 
 sealed book hitherto; now it had opened at one 
 of its brightest pages, where love was the glow 
 ing inscription. Must hers be the hand to close 
 it again? Must she give up this beautiful* 
 blessed vision, and go back to the dreary farm 
 house, to long monotonous years of toil, and end 
 her dreams as her mother's had ended, in weari 
 ness and disappointment 2 Then she pictured 
 
 herself as Ross Farnham's wife his loving and 
 
 (155)
 
 136 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 beloved wife with the right to receive and 
 return his caresses, and to claim his affection 
 before the whole world. She had loved him since 
 the hour she first met him ; loved him with that 
 wild, all-absorbing love that only a few women, 
 thank Heaven, are capable of cherishing. In 
 her eyes he was as a God among other men. She 
 believed him good and true. Of the dark and 
 sinful by-ways of life Jennie knew nothing; she 
 had only a nameless sort of horror for vice, which 
 was not clearly comprehended. 
 
 She had performed to-day the highest act of 
 heroism of which her undeveloped nature Avas 
 capable, when she spoke as she did to Ross Farn- 
 ham. It had cut her to the heart at the time, 
 and it hurt her now to think of it. That she 
 could have been cruel and unkind to him, when 
 he bore a wounded arm in her defense! He had 
 so often told her he loved her, not in any mere 
 complimentary terms, but in low, sweet words of 
 burning eloquence, uttered at stolen opportuni 
 ties, and by so many of those tender caressing 
 ways w r hich are the small change of the agents of 
 sin, or the true declarations of a loving heart; 
 but of marriage he had not spoken ; that was her
 
 ON THE BRINK. 137 
 
 own inference. She wondered why Mrs. Monroe 
 had changed so in her treatment of her; why she 
 had grown cold, and capricious, and often very 
 unkind. 
 
 She leaned her head wearily on her hand 
 where should she turn for -help ? Then came 
 over her, like an inspiration, the memory of what 
 her mother had done when torn by doubts and 
 perplexities; she had prayed. Prayer, with youth, 
 seems mort of a pleasant habit than a necessity. 
 Youth and health are all-sufficient until the 
 dark days come to turn the longing hearts 
 heavenward. Jennie thought that God must 
 help her if she asked it of him ; she remembered 
 when a little girl, she had prayed once for a doll, 
 and it came; she did not reflect that earthly ears 
 had heard her petition, and earthly love supplied 
 the want. Now she threw herself on her knees, 
 and prayed with all her heart, and yet the spirit 
 of her prayer was, " Not Thy will but mine be 
 done." 
 
 Is there any help in prayer! Yes! there is 
 strength and peace. That the Infinite God will 
 change any of His plans for your asking or for 
 mine is hard to believe; we have all pleaded to
 
 138 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 retain our treasures, even while they passed beyond 
 our grasp; we ask God to take care of us here, 
 and He does not, but just where our imperfect 
 work is dropped He takes it up and completes 
 it in His time and way. We see only the sorrow 
 and the sin; He sees the compensation. More, 
 we know not. 
 
 Jennie arose from her knees, comforted in some 
 vague way; then she thought of the little book 
 she had promised her mother to read, and she 
 went down on her knees again and searched her 
 trunk for it. It was not to be found, and after a 
 little time she remembered losing it as she left 
 home. She hoped her mother would never know 
 of her defection in the matter. 
 
 She was still sitting there, still thinking 
 trying to work out some rule of conduct, when 
 Mrs. Monroe returned, very tired, very cross, and 
 with an unusual amount of headache and indis 
 position. Jennie hurried to assist her, wiping 
 away all traces of tears and worry from her own 
 fair face. She had many gentle, fondling ways, 
 and although she could not offer any real demon 
 strations of love to her mistress, there were times 
 when her heart yearned for sympathy, and went
 
 ON THE BRINK. 139 
 
 out in silent caresses, manifested chiefly in a 
 tender manner, which Mrs. Monroe accepted as 
 homage due to her, sometimes in silence, occa 
 sionally with a patronizing remark. 
 
 It was a pity that her beautiful theory of ma 
 ternity, as promulgated on the platform and in 
 print, could not have been illustrated now, upon 
 this young girl standing on the brink of ruin. 
 Will she warn and save her ? Will God permit 
 this girl's soul to be caught in the snare? 
 
 Upon this evening, Mrs. Monroe was more 
 cross, more capricious, and more disagreeable 
 than usual, and seemed bent upon a quarrel with 
 some one. Jennie concluded that the maternity 
 meeting had not been altogether a success, as she 
 sought an anodyne where she often found it, in a 
 colorless liquid with a pungent odor, and Jennie, 
 having laid away the seal-skin cloak and its 
 appurtenances, went back to her room and closed 
 the door, more depressed than ever. She was 
 busy at some sewing, when Mrs. Monroe's bell 
 rang, and she noticed that it was growing dark. 
 She found her mistress wrapped in her usual, 
 toga a robe-de-chambre and lying on a 
 lounge, with a bottle of ammonia in her hand.
 
 140 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " Come here," she said, as Jennie came into 
 the room, " I have something to say to you." 
 
 She did not seem in any hurry to say it, but 
 soaked her handkerchief in camphor and applied 
 it to her head; then she resumed the ammonia. 
 Jennie waited, with the feelings of a naughty 
 child who expects a chiding. 
 
 " I am going to send you away," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Monroe, breaking the silence abruptly, 
 " and I think it best you should go at once. Here 
 are ten dollars, all I owe you; I suppose you 
 can stop with your friends until you find another 
 place." 
 
 "Send me away !" repeated Jennie, mechani 
 cally. " Oh ! Mrs. Monroe, what have I done 
 that you send me out of your house without a 
 moment's notice? I have tried to please you, 
 a,nd you have said you liked me, and now, oh, 
 what will my mother say! " 
 
 "I cannot help it," answered Mrs. Monroe. 
 She had reasons tor not wishing to prolong the 
 interview. " Mr. Monroe thinks I keep too much 
 help, and you are quite too vain and giddy to 
 stay with me. I cannot have a scene," she added, 
 her voice rising to a shriek ; " my nerves are not
 
 ON THE BRINK. 14! 
 
 strong. You choose to set people talking about 
 you, and must bear the consequences. I have 
 tried to do my duty by you. Go right to your 
 friends before it is any darker. You can send 
 for your trunk to-morrow." 
 
 Jennie fell down beside the lounge, and clasped 
 the large, white, cruel-looking hands, heavy with 
 jewelled rings, in her small, dimpled ones. 
 
 " Oh, dear Mrs. Monroe," she pleaded, " do let 
 me stay with you; I will work for nothing. At 
 least, let me stay till I can find another place; I 
 have no friends to stay with, even to-night; what 
 would the Winnes think of me? I will not be 
 any more trouble to you if you will let me stay." 
 
 " You are distressing me dreadfully," answered 
 the champion of her sex, loosing her hands and 
 pushing back the kneeling girl. " I consider it 
 my duty to send you away for your own good ; 
 now go at once, or I shall call for Esther to 
 compel you to leave." 
 
 " You need not," said Jennie quickly, rising 
 to her feet. ' ; Proud, cruel woman! I will never 
 ask another favor of you, and I hope God may 
 deal with you as you have dealt with me this 
 night."
 
 142 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 She went into her room, and was soon ready 
 to depart. As she passed down the stairs she 
 heard Esther and Sarah laughing in the kitchen, 
 and turned to go down and say good-bye to them, 
 but their probable questions dismayed her.. 
 "What could I tell them," she thought; "that 
 I am turned out of the house. But what is it 
 for?" 
 
 The door closed behind her. She stood on the 
 granite steps, and looked up and down the street. 
 Business men from the city were driving past, 
 going home to their wives and children ; they all 
 looked comfortable and happy. In the west, a 
 great bank of clouds was piled high, and still 
 tinted red from the sunset. The lamps were 
 lighted, and but few people were walking, and 
 they were hurrying along homeward. Jennie 
 yearned with an aching heart for the old farm 
 house, for the two there who loved her beyond 
 doubt or cavil, and she made up her mind quick 
 ly, to go back to them. Any home poverty could 
 give was better than this homelessness, and her 
 heart turned cold and hard to the woman up 
 stairs. 
 
 Ci Yes," she thought to herself, " I will go to
 
 ON THE BRINK. 
 
 143 
 
 the Winne's to-night; if they will not let me 
 stay I will find Eva, and to-morrow I will send 
 for my trunk and go home." 
 
 But many to-morrows came and went, and 
 Jennie neither sent for her trunk nor went home ! .
 
 CHAPTEK XVI. 
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 
 
 ARGAKET HOLMES was very ill. 
 The inmates of the Home walked about 
 on tip-toe, and spoke in subdued whis 
 pers as they passed the sick girl's door. Many 
 of them had not liked her particularly, and a few 
 had shunned her; but now they all thought of 
 her only as a helpless woman, fighting a cruel 
 foe that was likely to worst her in the encounter. 
 She had taken a deadly cold on that night when 
 she went out to save Eva; she had forgotten to 
 change the thin slippers she wore, and her fever 
 ish frame, already superinduced to illness, could 
 no longer resist the aggressive power of disease. 
 Her life had been so long one of denial and 
 hardship, that it seemed useless to call together 
 the remnant of. its wasted forces to repel this 
 last fierce invader. There seemed nothing to 
 
 take hold of ; no hope in the future of this life 
 (144)
 
 ' : She stood on the granite steps tuul looked up aiul down 
 the street." 1 Page 142.
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 145 
 
 worth the effort to retain it. Worn and wasted 
 by fever, without and within, Margaret uo longer 
 struggled or defied; she rested passive in the 
 cruel yet kind arms, that were surely bearing her 
 down to the banks of the dark river. 
 
 Eva was her faithful nurse and attendant, by 
 night and day. She felt, in her remorse, that it 
 would not be too much to give her own young 
 life to save her friend, and no hand but hers was 
 permitted to turn and cool the hot pillows, to 
 pour out the bitter medicine, to bathe the fever 
 ish, wasting form. Eva's good, sensible mother 
 had taught her, in her earliest years, a thorough 
 knowledge of the care of the sick, and she turned 
 it now to 'practical account. But it only eased 
 the pain, it did not remove it. 
 
 Margaret grew worse, day by day, and at last 
 sunk into a stupor which seemed to forebode- 
 death. The good, kind, old doctor, who saw such 
 cases every day, and yet, strangely enough, did ; 
 not become hardened only philosophical 
 clasped his hands over his gold-headed cane,, 
 shook his head till the wide shirt-frill on his. 
 bosom trembled in sympathy, and looking at Eva 
 said: 
 
 10
 
 146 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " You had better send for her friends, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I I believe she has n't any," replied 
 Eva, between her sobs. 
 
 " So much the better, then ; there will be fewer 
 left to mourn. She may last this way several 
 days; give the mixture when she needs a drink, 
 and keep her quiet. Don't cry, my dear; death 
 is not the worst thing that can happen to us." 
 He was retreatino; to the door, but came back. 
 
 O * 
 
 "Can I do anything further? Would a little 
 money 
 
 "Thank you," answered Eva quietly; "we 
 have enough." And the rather pompous, but 
 really grand, old gentleman, of a past school, 
 bowed himself out. 
 
 So Eva had nothing to do but watch and wait. 
 She put the sick room in perfect order, wrote a 
 little note home to her mother, saying she had 
 left the store, and gave her reasons why, and then 
 sat motionless for hours, listening to the fitful 
 breathing, that sometimes almost stopped, and 
 then grew loud and hard. Occasionally a low 
 tap would summon her to the door, to answer an 
 eager "how is she?" with a sorrowful shake of
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 147 
 
 the head. Sometimes there would be given a 
 glass of lemonade, or of cordial, for the sick girl, 
 or a single hot-house flower, bought at a sacrifice 
 of some small comfort. 
 
 Towards night of the third day Margaret 
 Holmes stirred uneasily and at last opened her 
 heavy eyes, with the light of recognition in them. 
 She did not speak for a long time, but looked at 
 every object in the room, and then at Eva, long 
 and tenderly, with a gaze that was all-absorbing. 
 Her eyes had grown large since her sickness, and 
 now they seemed bright and dark. A color was 
 stealing into her pale, sunken cheeks, and Eva 
 wept with joy at the change. 
 
 " You are better, dear Margaret ; you are 
 going to get well. Oh, how glad I am to see 
 you look like this." 
 
 Margaret smiled, ever so faintly. u Yes, I am 
 better I feel stronger I shall soon be well. 
 Eva dear, how long have I been sick? " 
 
 u Over two weeks. Oh, Margaret, you have 
 been so ill; we were all worried about you, and 
 now to think you are so much better it is too 
 good news. I must go and tell them all." 
 
 "Wait," said Margaret; "wait till to-morrow;
 
 148 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 good news will keep. Now I want to see Mrs. 
 Paine, and while she is here you must go out 
 and take a long walk ; but do not go near that 
 store." 
 
 Eva protested that she did not need any fresh 
 air, but Margaret held her point, through weak 
 ness that would not be denied. So Mrs. Paine, 
 the kind matron of the Home, took Eva's place, 
 while she went out to walk. 
 
 At first Eva did not know which way to turn. 
 It was the day before Christmas, and a light fall 
 of snow had frozen into a white, compact mass, 
 over which the flying sleighs skimmed like birds. 
 Eva followed them with her eyes, and noted the 
 rosy cheeks and happy looks of the occupants, 
 and heard the music of the jangling, snow-mad 
 bells, and the laughter of hearts delirious with 
 pleasure; but envied them not. It seemed as if 
 she never could be unhappy again. She had 
 escaped the foul disgrace of a tarnished name; 
 her friend was given back to her from the dead. 
 Eva was not a pious girl, in the common accep 
 tation of that word, but she would have been 
 little better than a heathen, if her heart had not 
 gone out in gratitude to the protecting spirit of
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 149 
 
 all good. She walked briskly on until she found 
 herself on the gayest thoroughfare of the West 
 Side, Washington street, and then she deter 
 mined to go and call on Jennie Armstrong. 
 
 She had not seen Jennie since Thanksgiving, 
 nor had she been at the Winne's. Margaret's 
 severe illness had put every one else out of her 
 mind ; but she began to wonder that Jennie had 
 not called to see her; Lucia had called one Sun 
 day, but Eva, worn out with watching, was asleep 
 and they would not disturb her. When she 
 reached Mrs. Monroe's house and rang the bell, 
 it was Sarah, the housemaid, who answered the 
 call. 
 
 " Is Jennie Miss Armstrong in? " asked Eva. 
 
 "No'm; she isn't here any more," answered 
 Sarah, with a very expressive look on her bold 
 face. Lower servants always dislike upper 
 favorites. 
 
 "Not here? Why! when did she leave?" 
 
 "Nearly a month ago, Miss. The fact is, 
 Miss" lower ing her voice to a rude whisper, 
 "Missis turned her out of doors." . 
 
 Eva stared at the girl in utter bewilderment. 
 " Turned her out of doors! For what? "
 
 150 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 "Don't know, Miss; but she sent her off all 
 in a minute, and we have never seen her since, 
 and her trunk and all her things are here yet." 
 
 "I must see Mrs. Monroe," said Eva, making 
 a motion to enter the house. 
 
 " I do n't think you can, Miss, if it 's about 
 her. But I '11 take up your message, if you like." 
 
 " Tell her I 'm a friend of Jennie Armstrong's 
 and would like to have her address. I would 
 like to see her and ask the question myself." 
 
 " I 'm sure you can 't see her, Miss, unless you 
 was sent here from the Good Samaritans, or the 
 Home for the Fallen, or the 'Dustrial School 
 that makes a difference ; then you 'd be a per- 
 ishin' feller being, and she 'd give you tracts, 
 and let you work for your board. I '11 go right 
 up now, Miss." 
 
 The voluble Sarah soon returned, with a grin 
 on her face. 
 
 " She do n't know nothin' about her; she do n't 
 want to know nothin' about her. She plucked 
 her like a brand a burnin', and now she 's washed 
 her hands of her forever. That 's the message, 
 word for word, Miss." 
 
 Eva was full of fiery indignation.
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 151 
 
 " I wish I could see that woman," she said; 
 " I should just like to tell her what I think of 
 her. I believe if Jennie Armstrong has gone 
 wrong it is her doing." And she turned her 
 back indignantly upon the closing door. 
 
 She turned her steps in the direction of Lucia's 
 boarding place. Since Margaret's illness she had 
 not seen much of Lucia; indeed, there had arisen 
 a slight coolness between them, for Lucia disap 
 proved of Margaret and the Home, both. She 
 received Eva in her own room, however, pleas 
 antly, if not cordially. She knew nothing of 
 Jennie beyond the fact of her disappearance, of 
 which she had recently heard. 
 
 " And you never looked after her to see what 
 had become of her ! Oh, Lucia, how could 
 you?" 
 
 " I have nothing to do with it, Eva. I could 
 not go about the streets looking after her. She 
 knew what the consequences must be as well as 
 any one. My brother thinks that she is some 
 where in the city, under the protection of that 
 Mr. Farnham, but he will not say anything about 
 it ; and he has forbidden my ever speaking to her 
 again."
 
 152 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " Oh, Lucia, is n't it dreadful! He must have 
 deceived her, for I am sure Jennie was always a 
 good girl; she might have been a little thought 
 less, but you know she was pure and innocent." 
 
 "Humph!" answered Lucia, coldly. "That 
 does n't make her any better now. You know 
 we warned 1 her that evening at my brother's, but 
 it seems it did no good, for she disappeared only 
 a day or two after, and no one has seen her 
 since/' 
 
 " It will kill her mother," said Eva, wiping 
 the tears away that were falling fast. " Have 
 they heard about it in Newton?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Lucia; "but her parents do 
 not believe it yet, and no one has the heart to 
 tell them. They are waiting for Reuben Harlow 
 to return, while he is lying between life and death 
 at some hospital in the city, we could not find 
 out where. That girl ought to suffer some of 
 the misery she has caused." 
 
 " That girl! Why do you not rather say that 
 man! If Jennie has gone wrong, and tilings do 
 look rather against her, Ross Farnham is the one 
 to blame. I believe now that .Mrs. Monroe was 
 acting as an agent for him, when she sent for
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 153 
 
 Jennie. Oh, Lucia! the trials and temptations 
 for a girl in a city like this are just awful! " 
 
 " Nonsense," said Lucia, coldly. " If she 
 behaves herself there is no more danger here 
 than in her own home. Look at me! T do not 
 meet with any temptations; I believe I am as 
 presentable as other girls, but there are no plots 
 and counterplots against me. It is vanity that 
 causes all the trouble, Eva, vanity and frivolity. 
 A girl with a high purpose in life and a mind 
 above pleasures and amusements, will never come 
 to any harm." 
 
 " Well," said Eva, slowly, " I am sorry for the 
 butterflies, too; Jennie has seen so little of the 
 bright side of life, that I expect she was blinded, 
 poor girl ! I wish we had looked after her closer. 
 She needed old friends to protect her." 
 
 " Why did she need them any more than we 
 do? " asked Lucia. 
 
 " You have your brother, and I I have Mar 
 garet Holmes," answered Eva. 
 
 " I think you show questionable taste in the 
 selection of your friends. There 's Margaret 
 Holmes, now; she is 
 
 " Hush! " said Eva, rising. " I cannot hear a
 
 1 54 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 word against her, Lucia, and I must go right 
 back to her. And, oh, do send word to me if 
 you hear anything of Jennie. I am going home 
 as soon as Margaret recovers ; the city stifles me r 
 and all I earn is eaten up by expenses, so that at 
 the end of a year I should be no better off finan 
 cially than if I had staid in Newton. I would 
 rather have only two calico dresses a year there, 
 than silks and velvets here." 
 
 "What a strange girl!" said Lucia to herself, 
 as Eva closed the hall door after her and she 
 went back to her own cosy room, " I cannot 
 understand why those girls have so much trouble. 
 I don't believe it is true that shop-girls have 
 peculiar trials. And Jennie was not a shop-girl, 
 but had every chance to improve and cultivate 
 her mind. How could she be so infatuated as to- 
 believe in that Boss Farnham! Yes, she must 
 have been naturally bad! " 
 
 With these thoughts, Lucia dismissed the 
 subject and turned her attention to the discovery 
 of what Philip II. did with himself after his 
 wife's death. 
 
 Calm, passionless, ruled by her head and not 
 by her heart, with an intense self-esteem, that.
 
 TANGLED THREADS. 155 
 
 never could be tempted to lower itself, how could 
 Lucia Winne appreciate the sensitive weakness, 
 the tender, loving, trusting nature of another 
 woman ? She did not crave love. At some time, 
 probably, a proper offer would be made her, by 
 some one she could highly esteem and respect, 
 and after she should be married decorously, there 
 would be time enough for sentiment, if, indeed, 
 any such weakness was necessary. Such women 
 are invaluable to the world. In life and in death 
 they are eulogized; their calm, philosophical 
 natures create no trouble, and accept none. But 
 to the wayward, tortured, restless soul of the 
 average sinner, they are about as soothing and 
 comfortable as rocks of adamant.
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 MARGARET'S STORY. 
 " Beyond the smiling and the -weeping." 
 
 HEN Eva left Lucia she walked rapidly 
 toward the Home, aware that she had 
 been absent longer than she had in 
 tended, and anxious lest Margaret should need 
 her. She hurried on until she reached the door, 
 when she saw the Matron of the- Home looking 
 for her, with eyes wet with tears. 
 
 "Oh, is she worse? Will she die?" asked 
 Eva, wildly. 
 
 " I am afraid she will," replied the kind- 
 hearted little woman, with whom Margaret had 
 always been a favorite. " Perhaps that is n't the 
 worst thing that could happen to her; but it 
 does seem so dreadful to die, away from home 
 and friends and among strangers. I believe she 
 is an orphan, but there must be somebody belong 
 ing to her." 
 
 (156)
 
 MARGARET'S STORY. 157 
 
 Eva hurried into the house, greatly alarmed. 
 She had not thought for a moment that Margaret 
 
 o o 
 
 would die. The sick girl was raised on pillows, 
 and the curtain was drawn away from the west 
 window, that she might look on the sunset, the 
 golden light of which flooded the room, the bed, 
 and the recumbent figure with a splendor of rose 
 and gold. A small table with writing apparatus 
 stood by the bed. Margaret looked better and 
 stronger; Eva could see no cause for fresh alarm. 
 She put her things away and took up her post 
 of nurse again, feeling physically invigorated by 
 her walk, but mentally depressed by the strange 
 news of Jennie. She did not intend to tell Mar 
 garet, but the sick girl saw that something had 
 occurred, and Eva told her all. 
 
 It did not surprise her as it had Eva; she 
 knew Mrs. Monroe and her kind, and was prepared 
 for such a climax. When Eva had gone down 
 to her tea and returned, Margaret said, in her 
 own natural voice, stronger and clearer than it 
 had been yet: 
 
 " I feel like talking to-night, Eva. Lock the 
 door so that we shall not be disturbed; now, 
 wheel the lounge up to the side of the bed, and
 
 158 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 put on your wrapper. You can lie and rest 
 while we talk. I am going to tell you my own 
 story. 
 
 " I was born in Belleville, a little town in 
 Maine; my father was the practicing physician 
 of the place, and he made a comfortable fortune, 
 enough to keep us all respectably. My own 
 mother was dead, but I could not remember her, 
 and my step-mother, a good, kind, judicious 
 woman, filled her place admirably. I never 
 could understand the prejudice against step 
 mothers; mine was the best and truest friend I 
 ever had, and when she died I mourned her as 
 though she had been mine by nature instead of 
 adoption. 
 
 " In one year I lost her, my father, and every 
 dollar in the world ; the last was the result of an 
 endorsement. My elder and only brother, a boy 
 of good impulses and kind heart, but easily led 
 by others, had got into a wild way of living, and 
 in some manner became involved in a disgraceful 
 bank robbery. His share of the matter being 
 discovered, my father endorsed his note for the 
 amount ; the note was never paid, and my father 
 sacrificed every dollar to meet the demand. He
 
 MARGARET'S STORY. 159 
 
 died shortly after, of a malignant fever, and the 
 mother soon followed him. It was seven or 
 eight years ago that it all happened. 
 
 " I was then eighteen years old, without a 
 relative in this country; my father was English, 
 and our kindred were all beyond the sea. I came 
 with a family to Chicago, because I was ac 
 quainted with them, and I wanted to get away 
 from those who knew of our fallen fortunes. My 
 brother, Horace, I have never heard from, but 
 presume he went to England ; if he ever visited 
 Belleville, he could have found no clue to my 
 whereabouts, for I was angry and could not 
 tolerate his memory, much as w r e had loved each 
 other in childhood. Ah, if the great God should 
 deal with us as we deal with fellow sinners, it 
 will go hard with many of us at the closing 
 account! There were circumstances in the poor 
 boy's life I did not take into consideration. My 
 father was wrapped up in his profession; my 
 brother had been influenced by injudicious friends 
 to dislike our step-mother, and rebel against her 
 authority; I was at school, and he ran away 
 from home with two other boys, the scapegrace 
 sons of rich fathers, when only seventeen years
 
 l6o AGAINST FATE. 
 
 old. My father felt his disgrace keenly, and 
 would not expostulate with the recreant boy, or 
 try to win him back; and his bank exploit was 
 the last we ever heard of him. But now I must 
 tell you about myself. Give me one spoonful 
 from that tumbler, my lips are so dry. 
 
 " Child, I have often wondered why God made 
 one set of people black and another white; one 
 weak and another strong! Perhaps I shall know 
 soon, but I am not sure that the knowledge will 
 compensate for a wasted life. I began fair 
 enough; perhaps I was too strong in my own 
 strength. I worked hard for meagre wages, and 
 kept my honesty and integrity, but demanded 
 that the world should appreciate both. The world 
 just rolled its chariot wheels over me. A few 
 good people held out dry theological husks for 
 my moral digestion, but society ignored me; I 
 had culture, but not wealth. I craved pleasure, 
 not sinful pleasure, but just the gladsome side 
 of life. Well it must be told my employer 
 offered me all ; not in so many words ; not by any 
 base contract; but by little acts of attention and 
 kindness, and by making my work less; by draw 
 ing me gradually into the social charm of his
 
 MARGARET'S STORY. 161 
 
 own atmosphere; by cruel and false sophistries. 
 I was too blind and vain to read the truth. A 
 few months I was his favorite, and was envied, 
 hated, and shunned by the people among whom 
 I moved. Oblivious to taunts and jeers, I 
 spent my days in the store, for appearance 
 sake, but my nights were devoted to pleasure 
 seeking and such amusements as are free to 
 the public. 
 
 " Then came an awakening that rent soul and 
 body. Months of shame, and darkness, and 
 anguish ensued, but my soul came out of the 
 flame purified. I repented in dust and ashes. I 
 left all my old associations and stood, clothed 
 and in my right mind, on the threshold of a new 
 life. Every door was then shut in my face except 
 that of the Magdalen Asylum. I went back to 
 the man who had ruined my life the man from 
 whom I have saved you and I demanded of 
 him the only compensation he could give me, 
 the right to earn my honest bread at his hands. 
 I think I frightened him ; he gave me the place 
 with the same pay that any other clerk" would 
 have for the same work. It was part of mj 
 punishment to stand there and endure the sneers 
 li
 
 1 62 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 of those who knew me; to see the hideousness 
 of my sin as they saw it. 
 
 " Child, M 7 hen yon came something drew me to 
 you. Oh, how glad I am that I have been per 
 mitted to watch over you. I have told yon my 
 story as a warning. Be thankful for the dry 
 bread of an honest life, for the homeliest, nar 
 rowest path in which ever woman walked, for the 
 garb that will make you a fright in its plainness, 
 rather than for the purple and fine linen for' 
 which you must sell your birthright. Eva, 
 darling, you will not love me less, now that you 
 know what my life has been, now that you under 
 stand the manifold temptations that crowd the 
 life of a young and thoughtless girl, who must 
 cope, single-handed, with the Devil of Sensu 
 ality?" 
 
 Margaret Holmes lay back exhausted on her 
 pillow, and Eva dropped the invigorating cordial 
 between her pale lips, till life and strength 
 seemed again to return. Yery lovingly, too, she 
 kissed her, uttering sweet, soothing words of 
 hope and encouragement. Margaret smiled 
 faintly, and drew Eva's fair head down on the 
 pillow.
 
 MARGARET'S STORY. 163 
 
 " How long, how dark the way has been! But 
 it seems lighter now; where I failed once I 
 might fail again. Eva, are you warm, are you 
 quite easy, dear? " 
 
 " Quite. And oh, so happy, Margaret, because 
 you are better. You will soon be well again." 
 
 "Yes," said Margaret; "very, very soon. And 
 now, dear child, try to sleep." 
 
 It did not need much trying on Eva's part. 
 The weight of anxiety was lifted from her heart, 
 and she fell asleep in Margaret's arms. The 
 older woman did not sleep so soon ; the night- 
 lamp, burning low, cast fantastic shadows about 
 the room, and it seemed to her excited fancy that 
 they took upon them a weird resemblance to 
 undefined forms, that came near and looked at 
 her and wrung their shadowy hands. And then 
 the light dropped lower, and the pale, yellow 
 moonlight filled the room, and Margaret's soul 
 was filled with a strange, ineffable peace and 
 sweetness. Her weary eyes closed on all the 
 dim outlines, the weird and shifting shadows, 
 the vexing, perplexing mysteries of life, and 
 with her head bowed upon Eva's, she, too, slept. 
 
 It was broad daylight when Eva felt herself
 
 164 
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 shaken, and aroused from sweet sleep and 
 pleasant dreams. The Matron was bending over 
 her, crying. She turned quickly and looked at 
 Margaret ; her face was white and peaceful. She 
 was still sleeping!
 
 CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 OVER! 
 
 "Foolish! most women are that, you know. 
 Fond and foolish; God makes them so." 
 
 HEN Jennie Armstrong left Mrs. Mon 
 roe's inhospitable roof she was in a 
 half unconscious state of mind, so over 
 whelmed was she by her sudden and unexpected 
 discharge. What had she done, or failed to do, 
 that had aroused Mrs. Monroe's wrath in such a 
 violent manner? She walked along the streets 
 like one in a dream, and it was all she could do 
 to keep from a violent and childlike fit of crying. 
 She turned in the direction of the Winne's, 
 determined she would ask them to receive her for 
 this night only, and in the morning she would 
 go back to her home; back to poverty and obscu 
 rity. . It was, at least, better than this homeless- 
 ness. All the faces that looked at her swam 
 (165)
 
 1 66 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 through a sea of tears. A stronger nature 
 would have been nerved to .bravery and indepen 
 dence by such injustice, but she was as helpless 
 in these wide, noisy streets as any child. She 
 was not even sure that she knew -the way to Mr. 
 Winne's; the houses loomed up like giants, in 
 the twilight, and the streets seemed to wander 
 and mix themselves up inextricably. A tear fell 
 and rested on her little cold hands; another and 
 another followed. She could not see her way 
 now for the hot, blinding shower; she stumbled 
 at a stone coping and would have fallen, had not 
 some one caught her. An arm was extended, 
 awkwardly but surely, and a cheery voice cried : 
 
 " Why, you poor child ! out alone at this time 
 of day, or night, rather, and crying, too? Why, 
 what has happened, you poor, forlorn, little girl! 
 Are you lost in the streets? " Then, as both her 
 little cold hands were gathered into his warm 
 ones, the rescuer murmured: "Jennie, darling, 
 what is it?" 
 
 The arch hypocrite! how dared he! 
 
 Jennie gave one look, to assure herself that it 
 was indeed Ross Farnham, and then she threw 
 herself, recklessly, foolishly, but oh, so blissfully,
 
 OVER. 167 
 
 into his arms, and fell into convulsions of crying. 
 
 "My darling! my darling!" he whispered the 
 words .over and over to her, and then told her, 
 soothingly, that his carriage was near. He had 
 seen her in passing, and knew the forlorn, droop 
 ing figure; and he would take her wherever she 
 wanted to go, only, first, she must accompany 
 him and have a warm, comfortable supper, and 
 tell him all about her trouble, and how it had 
 happened. 
 
 Now, why did not her mother's God send one 
 of His ministering angels to save her; to whisper 
 one word of warning, to rescue this innocent 
 soul from the tempter's power, to show her how 
 dark and deep and awful was that chasm on 
 whose flower- wreathed brink she stood? Answer 
 me, theologians, who reason that 
 
 "With Adam's fall 
 We sinned all." 
 
 Why did the tempter prevail? 
 
 Her mother was praying for her ; her poor 
 mother, who had sacrificed so much in parting 
 from her! This girl's soul was, of itself, pure 
 and stainless; she had no conception of sin, a& 
 yet; she was going to her doom with the blind
 
 1 68 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 faitli and trust of a loving child, as thousands 
 of innocent girls have gone before her, as thous 
 ands of innocent girls will follow! And jet 
 the Christian says, God lives! 
 
 He does! Stronger than sin, He shall ulti 
 mately rescue every soul from its bondage; infi 
 nite in existence, He shall draw all essence of 
 being to Him, and in that gracious Presence it 
 shall grow and live forever and ever. 
 
 I do not know why I stopped to say this, 
 unless the theme inspired me. I dislike moral 
 sandwiches ; they are not always palatable. 
 
 Jennie followed Boss' Farnham very willingly, 
 and it needs no brilliant imagination to realize 
 the transition from the cold, shivering, lonesome 
 streets at nightfall, to the warm, comfortable, 
 lighted carriage, that would speedily bear them 
 to cheeriness and safety. They drove to a popular 
 and fashionable restaurant, and were soon seated 
 in a luxurious room, at a table spread with a 
 delicious supper. The anchorite may turn up 
 his holy nose at creature comforts, but I never 
 yet saw a famished sinner that could not be 
 brought to his knees quicker by a hot meal, or a 
 smoking draught, than by any amount of tracts
 
 OVER. 169 
 
 and bibles peddled out by the spiritual-minded 
 agent of salvation. Jennie's spirits rose with 
 the warmth and food : she had eaten nothing that 
 
 ' O 
 
 day. The red came into her cheeks, and she 
 recovered her old, gay, insouciant manner. 
 
 Ross Farnham had been watching her with 
 that tender solicitude, which almost any man 
 can assume at will toward almost any woman, 
 always excepting those who have a right to it. 
 For the time being he loved, idolized, worshiped 
 her, and would have killed any man who dared 
 to dispute it. Looking at her, and thinking this, 
 he touched the bell. 
 
 " Champagne," he said to the waiter; " a quart 
 bottle." And he named a favorite brand. 
 
 Jennie stopped him peremptorily. " No, no," 
 she said; " I must not drink wine; it would not 
 be right. Indeed, indeed, it would not." 
 
 "Little innocent!" laughed Ross. "Cham 
 pagne is not wine; it is nothing more than cider. 
 Why, you could drink it like water, and it would 
 never hurt you. See here, you shall fill your 
 glass with raisins and watch them bead and 
 sparkle and plunge in a sea of diamonds. There 
 is no harm in it, darling. You can trust me."
 
 I/O AGAINST FATE. 
 
 And no fire came down from Heaven to con 
 sume him! 
 
 Jennie resisted bravely. She belonged 'to a 
 family that believed in moderate drinking, and 
 unfortunately had not instilled that horror of 
 intoxicating liquors that is a principle in itself. 
 She had never tasted wine, and it seemed an 
 unwomanly thing to do. 
 
 "Oh, Ross, drink it for me; indeed, I cannot 
 bear to taste it. Let me play with mine. What 
 a lovely, lovely color! Amber, isn't it? How 
 pure and sparkling! " 
 
 " Jennie," said Eoss Farnham, in his danger 
 ously seductive tones. " Do you love me, 
 darling?" 
 
 " God knows I do," answered the girl, with 
 unwonted earnestness. The smile faded from 
 her face, and great tears stood in her loving 
 eyes. 
 
 " Do you love me better than any one in the 
 world?" 
 
 "Better! Yes! oh, yes!" 
 
 "Better than father or mother, friends or 
 kindred?" 
 
 "Yes, Ross; I do."
 
 OVER.' 171 
 
 " Say it after me, better than father or mother, 
 friends or kindred." 
 
 And she repeated the sentence, word for word. 
 
 " And now, darling," taking her wine-glass in 
 his hand, " if you love me, pledge me with this ; 
 you will prove your loyalty, my own." 
 
 It was done! She lifted the golden liquid 
 and touched it to the tender chrism of her lips, 
 and then set the empty glass on the table before 
 her. 
 
 Ross Farnham took a shining diamond circlet 
 from his vest pocket, and slipped it on the dainty 
 white forefinger, guarding it there with a plain, 
 heavy, gold band. 
 
 " Mine! " he whispered, fondly, gathering the 
 girl in his arms.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 THE RETUEN HOME. 
 " The deep damnation of his taking off." 
 
 HE train upon which Eva Bartlett was 
 returning to her home in Newton, 
 stopped within a station of that place, 
 for dinner. , She was weary and lonely, and gladly 
 left the close cars for the hurried meal. She had 
 changed somewhat in appearance, was thinner 
 and paler, the result of watching by the sick-bed 
 of her friend. It was for Margaret, Eva wore 
 such deep black, purchased out of respect to her 
 memory, and from real, true affection, not simply 
 because she inherited her friend's savings. 
 
 She returned to the car, feeling rested and 
 refreshed by the change; as she stood on the 
 platform she noticed a feeble looking man, who 
 gazed about him as if uncertain of his surround 
 ings. Something in his appearance struck her
 
 THE RETURN HOME. 173 
 
 as being familiar, and as he turned and looked 
 at her she recognized him fully, and started in 
 dismay. It was Jennie Armstrong's father. 
 Always retiring and unsocial in his manner, he 
 had never been a favorite with the young people, 
 or noticed them much, but now, as he saw and 
 recognized Eva, he sprang eagerly toward her, 
 and his air of dejection gave way to one of eager 
 enquiry. 
 
 Eva's first thought was to evade him, and pass 
 into the car as if unconscious of his presence; 
 but he was too intent on his own purpose to 
 notice this, and following her, with a quick, 
 nervous movement, he laid a thin, cold hand on 
 her shoulder just as she reached her seat. She 
 turned, and saw a white, worn face, aged and 
 wrinkled by despair, and sealed with the sign 
 manual of death, yet from which a longing hope 
 seemed to flash the intelligence of a soul's 
 anguish. Eva shook hands with the poor father, 
 with her eyes averted that he might not see the 
 tears in them. He was the first to speak; she 
 could not. 
 
 " So you have come back again ? " he said, with 
 a vacant attempt to smile that was pitiful to see.
 
 174 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " And now, tell me " - his voice sank to a fierce 
 whisper, and he grasped her arm till she writhed 
 with the pain " where is Jennie? " 
 
 To have saved her life, at that moment Eva 
 could not have spoken a word, neither could she 
 look at the miserable father ; she kept her eyes 
 fixed upon the car window, that looked wet and 
 blurred as in a rain storm, and yet the sun shone. 
 
 "Where is Jennie?" he repeated earnestly. 
 " You must know something about her. Is she 
 dead?" 
 
 "Yes!" Eva was driven now to desperation. 
 " Yes, Mr. Armstrong, she is dead; dead to you 
 and to all of us who loved her! " And she 
 covered her face with her hands, and wept. 
 
 "Oh, my God! then it is true, it is true," 
 groaned the heart-broken man. " May my 
 bitterest curse 
 
 "Hush!" Eva laid her hand upon his lips. 
 " Do not curse your child, Mr. Armstrong. Try 
 and think the best of her that you can; we all 
 believe that it was the cruelest treachery that 
 betrayed her into that man's hands. She must 
 have a place in your heart, when 
 
 " You do not know what you are talking
 
 THE RETURN HOME. 175 
 
 about," interrupted Mr. Armstrong, harshly. 
 " It will kill her mother; she has added the 
 vilest disgrace to our poverty ; we have, at least, 
 been respectable, but we can never hold our heads 
 up again. Oh, if we could have buried her in 
 decency and honor, though in a pine coffin and a 
 Potter's field, it would have been happiness." 
 
 The father broke out into the fiercest invec 
 tives against the destroyer of his child, and Eva 
 sat frightened and silent, until the cars reached 
 Newton, and she saw her mother and the child 
 ren waiting for her. At another time she would 
 have felt some consequence from the change in 
 her circumstances, perhaps, and realized that she 
 was now able to maintain her family in comfort, 
 but all thoughts of herself were merged in sym 
 pathy for those unhappy parents. As she stepped 
 on the platform, a sad, white face caught her 
 attention ; to avoid those wistful, agonized eyes 
 she turned quickly away and drew her mother 
 and the delighted children one side. 
 
 " It is Mrs. Armstrong," she whispered to her 
 mother; " I would not see her for the world. 
 Is n't it awful, that look on her face? " 
 
 " She would not see you," replied her mother.
 
 176 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " She has not spoken to any one since the news 
 came. Mr. Armstrong went up to meet you first, 
 Eva. Is it true?" 
 
 " Yes ! but do not talk of it here, before the 
 children. I can hardly believe it myself. Oh, 
 mother, I could have told him of her death so 
 much easier." 
 
 Mr. Armstrong met his wife and drew her arm 
 through his. 
 
 " Did you walk down, Mary? " he asked, in a 
 steady voice. 
 
 "Yes, Richard. This is not all you have to 
 say; where is Jennie? Where is our child?" 
 
 " Never speak her name to me again, Mary. 
 We have no child! our children are in Heaven. 
 She oh, God! it cannot be true." And the 
 man shook with the agony of the thought. 
 
 His wife looked up into his face. All light 
 of intelligence had died out of hers. 
 
 " Richard," she asked presently, in a low voice, 
 "is it true; is Jennie lost?" 
 
 " Yes, it is true ! all true ! Did I not say you 
 should never mention her name? May the curses 
 of " 
 
 "Hush, Richard! You must not curse our
 
 THE RETURN HOME. 177 
 
 child. Dear little tiling! do you remember how 
 sweet and pretty she was? Yes, yes; I will find 
 her again; she is not lost to her mother." 
 
 They walked the rest of the way home in 
 silence. At the house door Mr. Armstrong left 
 his wife to grope her way in alone; it was not 
 dark, but she walked like a dreaming person, 
 and looking after her, he saw her stagger as she 
 entered the door. Such a look as came over his 
 face then, as it paled with the white heat of a 
 man's despair; all the weakness and uncertainty 
 Qf his life seemed lifted from him in that 
 moment. 
 
 He went into the rickety old barn, and pulled 
 the door together after him. Above the window 
 on two rests, hung an old gun, a true shooter, as 
 he knew, for it had brought down many a dinner 
 for them. As he lifted his hand to take it down 
 his eye fell on a little, dust-covered book, lying 
 on the top of the low window. He took it and 
 looked at it a moment, with white, compressed 
 lips ; then he opened it, and saw her name. With 
 a sullen, smothered oath, he hurled it from him, 
 and as it struck the floor with a dull thud, he 
 muttered fiercely: 
 12
 
 1 7 8 
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " False to her mother false to herself false 
 to God! I have lived too long; let this end it." 
 
 A moment later there was a loud report. 
 
 Oh, coward! who could leave a weak woman 
 to bear a double burden of grief and shame, 
 while you slept in a dastard's grave! Was it 
 from you the daughter inherited the weakness 
 of loving too well? Was it the sin of the father 
 visited upon the child?
 
 CHAPTEK XX. 
 
 REAPING TPIE REWARD. 
 
 " Only O God ! O God ! to cry for bread 
 And get a stone! Daily to lay my head 
 Upon a bosom where the old love 's dead." 
 
 T was a beautiful Spring day, and the 
 streets of Chicago were crowded with 
 a throng of people men. intent on 
 business; women, intent on pleasure; with an 
 undercurrent of struggling humanity of. either 
 sex. The stores \vere gay with Spring goods, 
 and the fashionable resorts were surrounded by 
 elegant carriages, from which well-dressed ladies 
 descended, comfortably and luxuriously, by the 
 aid of sleek coachmen. 
 
 It was matinee day at the theatres; at the 
 prominent one they were playing " Camille," 
 and a popular star had attracted all classes thither. 
 The house was crowded; virtue and vice outbid 
 
 each other. Even the boxes, those bete noirs of 
 
 (179)
 
 l8o AGAINST FATE. 
 
 theatrical managers, were all taken. In one of 
 those boxes sat a young and beautiful woman, 
 who, dressed in the height of elegant fashion, 
 was the attraction of all eyes; she looked like a 
 queen of society, except that she was alone and 
 unattended. She had occupied that same box a 
 number of times lately, and the elegance of her 
 costume had not failed to arouse the admiration 
 and envy of every woman who saw it. She was 
 never overdressed; there was not the slightest 
 shade of over-color, not a flower or ribbon too 
 many; her dress was a combination of silk and 
 velvet, exquisitely fitting her slender form. The 
 hand that held the gold and pearl lorgnette 
 was faultlessly gloved; the one that lay idly 
 in her lap revealed a diamond that shone like 
 a star. 
 
 It was not alone her elegant toilette that drew 
 attention to her, but her subtle, fascinating- 
 beauty, which was heightened, not marred, by 
 the shadow of pensiveness. It was a fresh-tinted, 
 girlish beauty, without any hard lines ; there was 
 enough of character to reveal a thinking soul 
 beneath, and a charming air of culture and 
 refinement to redeem it from mere prettiness.
 
 REAPING THE REWARD. l8l 
 
 Over it all rested a shade of melancholy; the 
 dark eyes had a wistful, weary, troubled look, 
 and the delicate, rosebud mouth was drooping 
 and sorrowful! 
 
 Mrs. Ross Farnham ! Called so from courtesy 
 by the men of his set, and scorned and spurned 
 by the women ! As pure in heart as any young 
 wife, yet an object of contempt to the man who 
 had perilled his soul to ruin her, and who had 
 wearied of her in a few short months. 
 
 Yes, Jennie was hovering on the border land 
 of sin. It was very pleasant at first, when she 
 was living in the rapture of a first love, with 
 conscience, remorse, memory, all stifled in the 
 rose-colored atmosphere, drowned in costly 
 draughts of pleasure. There was no time to 
 think, no way to escape while love stood sentinel 
 at the door. For a while the world seemed well 
 lost to Jennie? 
 
 She had not heard from either father or 
 mother as yet; she was not surprised that they 
 had cast her off, when at times she fully realized 
 what she had done. She had written a few 
 hasty, penitent words, and Ross had taken them 
 to the post office; but they were never answered.
 
 1 82 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 How could they be, when they were never 
 received ? 
 
 Then she had sought out the hospital where 
 Reuben Harlow still languished from his wound; 
 but he would not see her. He was too ill, the 
 nurses said, when her name was taken in. She 
 sent him some rare flowers, and in the centre of 
 the basket hid a tiny note, begging piteously for 
 some word of her dear mother. The sick man 
 was asleep when the flowers came; his old mother 
 watched beside him, holding the flowers on her 
 lap against the time of his awaking. When he 
 roused from the short sleep in which he found 
 occasional brief rest from the pain of his wounded 
 lungs, he murmured a name faintly: 
 
 "Jennie! Jennie, darling! Is it you?" 
 
 Then he awoke fully and saw the flowers. 
 
 "Take them away," he said, sternly; "throw 
 them in the street! I thought I was home again, 
 and she was there, with her wicked beauty and 
 her soft smiles, and her fondness, betraying and 
 deceiving! But what am I saying? She could 
 not help it, poor child; fate was against her. 
 But throw the flowers away, mother; they would 
 kill me!"
 
 REAPING THE REWARD. 183 
 
 So her pleading little appeal was cast aside, 
 unnoticed, and hearing no word from it, she 
 thought, sadly, " Reuben hates me, and no won 
 der!" 
 
 But it had not mattered so much then; she 
 had Ross' love, and was not that compensation 
 enough for putting her soul in peril and losing 
 all her friends? 
 
 Jennie gave the great world no chance to snub 
 her with its jeers and frowns; she walked alone. 
 Once she met Mr. "Winne and Lucia face to face; 
 she was so glad to see one from the old life that 
 she stopped before she thought. Could she ever 
 forget with what scorn Mr. Winne drew his sister 
 away! How thankful she was that they could 
 not see the hot blood dye her cheeks and fore 
 head after they had passed, and then she had 
 swept on, velvet-dressed, lace-crowned, and beau 
 tiful, a target for the impertinent admiration of 
 men and the gratuitous insolence of women. 
 
 Was she happy? No, no; a thousand times, 
 no! She was walking a delirious measure to the 
 strains of enchanted music; her senses were 
 captivated and conscience slept. It needed but 
 a touch to arouse her, and a single tear of
 
 1 84 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 contrition would forever dissolve her pearl of 
 love. 
 
 She was conscious, on this day at the theatre, 
 of living in a world alone. Helen Stearns, the 
 woman in whose care Ross had placed her, had 
 no reason to like her, and there was nothing in 
 common between them. With those like herself 
 she would not associate; with the respectable 
 and virtuous she could not. Somehow, she 
 was weary of it all. She had sold herself for 
 love, and only golden fetters remained. She 
 clasped her hands desperately above the gold 
 and pearl opera-glass, and looked about the 
 house. 
 
 Fashionable young men rich loafers had 
 dropped in to note who was present, and leaned, 
 kid-gloved and moustached, about the doors, 
 commenting rudely upon the beauty of " Mrs. 
 Farnham," as they superciliously styled her. 
 She could not hear them, but she noted the 
 glances they exchanged, and felt more than ever 
 her isolated position. Why was not Ross there 
 to protect her, for at least there was protection 
 from insult in his presence; and then she recalled 
 the fact that he was seldom with her in those
 
 REAPING THE REWARD. 185 
 
 days. The inevitable end was coining, and this 
 was the beginning of the end. 
 
 She turned her attention to the play, but it 
 was not diverting; the stage Camille was apos 
 trophizing the children from the window, to 
 which, in mortal weariness and weakness, she 
 had dragged herself. It was the most touching 
 scene in the drama. Jennie feared she should 
 cry, and would not listen; so, while all were 
 intensely regarding the stage Magdalen, the real 
 one, gathered up her luxurious wrappings, and 
 passed out. It was only a few paces to her car 
 riage; the coachman held the door open with the 
 utmost respect, and Jennie, placing one dainty 
 foot upon the step, was about to enter, when a 
 hand, light as a snow-flake, fell upon her 
 .shoulder. 
 
 She turned hastily, with something of a ner 
 vous shiver, and an uncanny tremor ran through 
 her frame, as though a spirit in passing had 
 touched her! Pshaw! there was nothing to be 
 frightened at only an old beggar woman, 
 ragged and bent, "who peered into her face with 
 eager persistence. Yet it was not an ordinary 
 beggar, for she did not ask alms; she only smiled
 
 1 86 
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 and muttered, and shook her head. When 
 Jennie turned at her touch, the woman scanned 
 each feature closely, passed her thin hands over 
 the velvet of her dress, and asked in a weird 
 whisper: 
 
 "Have you seen Jennie? She is lost! " 
 The coachman thrust her away and helped his 
 mistress into her carriage, where she sank uncon 
 scious on the cushions. She had stood face to 
 face with her mother!
 
 CHAPTEK XXI. 
 
 LOST AND FOUND. 
 
 HE was only a poor old woman, sick, 
 weak, and crazed ; the boys jeered at 
 her on the street, and walked in rough 
 and ragged procession after her. Occasionally, 
 when out of sight of a policeman, they threw 
 sticks and stones at her, which wounded the poor 
 old creature's limbs and brought tears into her 
 weak, faded eyes; but she never resisted them or 
 made a complaint, she only walked on and on 
 wearily, always in a circle of streets. She passed 
 by men and boys with compressed, close-shut 
 lips, but every young girl she met she would try 
 to stop, and would cling to her, and beseech her, 
 in such a pitiful tone: 
 
 "Have you seen my child? Have you seen 
 Jennie? Oh, you must have seen her! Let me 
 tell you how she looks. She's so pretty; oh, 
 
 such lovely dimples, and a face like a baby's; 
 
 (187)
 
 1 88 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 arid oil! the smallest, prettiest hands, and such 
 a gay, happy smile. I tell you, you must have 
 seen her; she's lost! Do you hear? I must 
 find her I must take her home to her father 
 he 's waiting for her. She 's lost, but I 'rn her 
 mother I '11 find her. Ah, dear lady, help me 
 to find her. I tell you she is lost! lost! lost! " 
 
 Her voice, as she went on, would gradually 
 rise to a shriek, and she would beat the air with 
 her pale hands, and then the grim guardians of the 
 peace would drag her away and lock her up in a 
 cell of the station house, where she. would stretch 
 her thin hands through the iron gratings, and 
 chant the same weird story to every passer-by, 
 till the officials wearied of her, and finding her 
 friendless and penniless, turned her out again. 
 
 She was worn, almost as thin as a shadow; her 
 scant gray hair floated over her shoulders like 
 spectral fantasies of fashion, and her few ragged 
 clothes were pathetic in their appeal for sympa 
 thy. As she walked she constantly muttered and 
 shook her head, and moaned to herself. She had 
 traveled many miles that weary day, following 
 some false clue of her crazed brain, when she 
 laid her hand on the shoulder of the beautiful
 
 LOST AND FOUND. 189 
 
 woman stepping into the carriage in front of the 
 pretty theatre; as the lady hurried away and left 
 her, she turned, not more disappointed than 
 usual, but with some new feeling, that was not 
 cold, nor hunger, nor disappointment, but was a 
 strange and painful perplexity. She dwelt upon 
 that meeting, upon that beautiful, horror-stricken 
 face, which only flashed upon her's for a moment, 
 and she walked on until exhausted, and then sat 
 down on the steps of a clothing store. The pro 
 prietor, a dark, heavy-browed man, came out and 
 spurned her with his foot; she rose meekly, and 
 wandered off until she came to a street where 
 there were dwellings ; at the basement of one she 
 stopped and asked for something to eat ; the boy 
 who opened the door set the dog upon her ! But 
 at the next house a good, kindly Irish girl 
 God bless her! took her into the kitchen, and 
 set her down to a warm supper. 
 
 "Poor innocent," said the kind girl; " shure 
 it 's starved, and cold, and wretched intirely, ye 
 are, and the wits wanting, too! Holy Mother 
 presarve ye ! It 's a hard world for the like of 
 yees! " 
 
 The supper gave her strength to move on, and
 
 190 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 she wandered back again into the dense heart of 
 the city, until she found herself at the beautiful 
 theatre once more. It was all sparkle and light; 
 all glitter! glitter! Handsome carriages rolled 
 up to the door, and splendidly dressed ladies got 
 out, all silk and lace and diamonds, with sweet 
 smiles and dainty manner! She watched for the 
 lady in the purple velvet, the lovely lady with 
 the great dark eyes; but the pompous coachmen 
 ordered her rudely out of the way, and threat 
 ened her with their whips. 
 
 She became confused and frightened; the 
 lamps turned into a sea of fire; and then and 
 then, somebody touched her somebody wound 
 tender, loving arms about her, and as the cold 
 night air seemed to creep about her lips and 
 cheeks with a caress, and the stars came down to 
 meet the city lights, and all was a drear chaos of 
 voices and lights and far-off music then, oh, 
 then, somebody received her falling weight in 
 the closest, lovingest embrace, and clinging arms 
 were thrown fondly about her. 
 
 It was only a girl, in a coarse dress and a red 
 shawl; but she had found Jennie! Mother and 
 child had met at last.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE NARROW PATH. 
 
 " Said I not so ? that I would sin no more ! 
 
 Witness, my God, I did ; 
 Yet I am run again upon the score: 
 My faults cannot be hid." 
 
 YEAR of harrowing experiences had 
 passed what need to tell of them 
 since Jennie had given up all sinful 
 luxuries, and left a few farewell words for Ross 
 Farnham, that I think he will remember in his 
 dying hour. She had not looked upon his face; 
 she heard the story of doom, and saw herself as 
 she really was in the eyes of the world. 
 
 Oh, such a bitter, hand-to-hand fight with 
 poverty ; such a rending, snarling, gnawing wolf 
 at the door to bait with flesh and blood, and no 
 ravens to come, as they did to Elijah. Through 
 it all, too, there was a sad, desolate, dying mother, 
 
 mercifully insensible to mere bodily discomfort, 
 (191;
 
 192 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 but haunted by spectres of the past; daily, 
 hourly, wringing her daughter's heart by allu 
 sions to her wrong-doing. 
 
 Oh, what need of a future place of punish 
 ment! Is there any boiling caldron, where the 
 fire is hotter than the white heat of remorse? I 
 think Jennie walked into frequent pits of red 
 sulphur at this period of her life. These were, 
 her dying mother, brought to this terrible pass 
 by her daughter's weakness, and her dead father. 
 Night and day he stood before her, stern, vindic 
 tive, unforgiving. No need of a jury to convict 
 her, or of a frowning judge to read her sentence. 
 Her only merit was that she wore her crown of 
 thorns worthily. There was no crying over the 
 life she had relinquished, with its ease and 
 luxury; she accepted all the hardships of her lot 
 as steps upward, and toiled, day after day, at 
 whatever she could find to do, until health and 
 strength both failed her. She could not leave 
 her sick mother, so her work must be taken home, 
 whatever it might be. It seemed at this time 
 that if only one of her old friends would come 
 to her rescue, it would be like a hand extended 
 from Heaven.
 
 THE NARROW PATH. 193 
 
 One day she was returning Lome from a 
 useless search after work, in a most despondent 
 mood. I call home the miserable refuge which 
 she shared Avith her mother, and in the sense of 
 refuge it was a home. She was nearer a condi 
 tion of recklessness to-day than she had yet been 
 since she set out in this new, narrow path, for 
 every door seemed shut against her, shut and 
 barred. Ross Farnham had offered, through his- 
 lawyer, to assist her, but she would neither see 
 him nor hear from him. She had left her jewels, 
 even to the ring with which he foreswore himself, 
 and her costly wardrobe, w.ith every other token 
 of the brief idolatry of his love, and had carried 
 away with her only the simple serge dress and 
 coarse shawl she had worn when Ross met and 
 deceived her. 
 
 Upon this day she had just left a beautiful 
 house where lived a lady who had promised her 
 work a week previous. When Jennie called for 
 it, however, the lady informed her that she had 
 felt it incumbent upon her, as a church member, 
 to give it to a young girl who had an invalid 
 father to support ; besides and this was evi 
 dently the whole turning-point she would do> 
 13
 
 194 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 it at half price. There was 110 more to be said ; 
 the obligations of poverty at half price were not 
 to be gainsaid; but Jennie wondered how much 
 longer body and soul could be kept together. 
 
 Was it surprising, then, that she was quite 
 disheartened? She had eaten no food since the 
 morning, and she was weary in flesh and spirit. 
 Oh, dear Savior, who wast tempted and lonely, 
 dost Thou see Thy children at such times, and 
 know how pitiful is their fate? 
 
 As she walked along, with downcast eyes, she 
 nearly ran over a little mother, who was trund 
 ling a perambulator along, with one baby in it, 
 while another toddled at her side. Jennie lifted 
 her eyes and began an apology, and then suddenly 
 stopped short it was Mrs. Winne ! She almost 
 smiled in her cold despair, on seeing the nervous 
 haste with which the woman drew her skirts 
 aside and gathered her little brood about her, as 
 though violent hands were about to be laid on 
 them. Then for a moment the two stood and 
 looked at each other the woman who had home, 
 husband, children, and an honest name, and the 
 woman who had lost all. Heavens! how souls, 
 lost or saved, can look out of human eyes!
 
 THE NARROW PATH. 195 
 
 Jennie could not help appealing to her at that 
 supreme moment of her misery; but at the first 
 intimation of speech, Mrs. Winne seemed to pale 
 and shrink in extreme displeasure and surprise, 
 and then she trundled her offspring away, and 
 hurried home to tell Albert of the shameless 
 audacity of that miserable girl! 
 
 The blow struck home. I will not deny that 
 Jennie hated Mrs. Winne fiercely at that mo 
 ment, and wished she could recall her to tell her 
 so. Then she tried to forget her utterly, and 
 accept this penance as another offering to the 
 Moloch of her fate. 
 
 When she reached the shabby entrance that led 
 to her poor retreat, something rose up before her 
 and she started back, appalled. What was it 
 ghost or spirit? She gave a quick involuntary 
 cry of convulsive fear, as she saw the wreck of 
 Keuben Harlow! Her first thought was that he 
 would kill her, and she bowed her head, not 
 daring to look up, until his voice re-assured her. 
 There was no attempt at greeting. 
 
 " I have seen your mother," he said, calmly; 
 " and she knew me." 
 
 "Oh, Reuben!" cried Jennie, in distress;
 
 ig6 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 "why did you come here? I heard that you 
 were you were She hesitated. 
 
 "Dying? Well, yes, I am; but I am along 
 time about it. Sometimes I think I must have a 
 dozen lives, I hang on so. Well, I could n't save 
 you, Jennie; I tried, but fate was against me. 
 Still, I felt that you might need me, and I came 
 as soon as they would let me; and I am so glad 
 I did." 
 
 Glad ! Jennie wondered what he could be glad 
 about. She was fast losing her beauty sorrow 
 and suffering do not perpetuate the bloom of 
 youth and as to his love ; oh, surely that must 
 be dead now. She waited. 
 
 " I am glad," he continued, coughing feebly 
 at intervals, " to know that you are safe. Oh, 
 Jennie, child, was it worth while to gain the 
 whole world and lose your own soul ! You do 
 not think so, or you would not be here. Oh, 
 thank God, that I find you in honest rags rather 
 than in the purple and fine linen of sin ! Oh, if 
 my hand had not failed; if his perfidious soul 
 had - " 
 
 "Hush! Reuben," said Jennie, solemnly, with 
 a far-away look in her dark, sad eyes. " I loved
 
 THE NARROW PATH. 197 
 
 him that is all my excuse I loved him from 
 the first moment I saw him ; my sin has brought 
 its punishment. Do you remember how plump 
 my cheeks and arms were? Now I am nearly as 
 thin as you. Oh, Reuben, do you think I have 
 not suffered since I came to my senses, as I 
 thought of you, lying a whole year and more in 
 that dreary hospital on my account! How can 
 I live with such a load of guilt on my soul! " 
 
 " It is not your guilt; it is his! Can you not 
 see the arch hypocrite's whole plan ? It was to 
 place you in his power that his cousin sent for 
 you ; it was to help his designs that she turned 
 you into the streets. You see I know it all. 
 Why, poor little lamb, you had not the shadow 
 of a chance! " 
 
 " I did not intend to be wicked, Eeuben," said 
 Jennie, in a low tone. " I did not realize my 
 danger until it was too late. Try not to think 
 of me as a bold, bad girl ; I can see now that I 
 was led astray by those whom I trusted the 
 most." 
 
 ' And he the villain who caused it all. Jen 
 nie, I swore a thousand times that I would kill 
 him if I got well; but I am a dying man myself.
 
 198 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 I must forego my revenge, or leave it to Him, 
 who has said, ' Vengeance is mine, I will repay.' 
 Oh, he will be punished, never fear! Have you 
 seen him since since you left him ? " 
 
 " No," answered Jennie, wearily; her strength 
 was fast failing her. " That is, not to speak to 
 him. But, Reuben, let us not talk of him; I 
 cannot bear it. I will only tell you this, I loved 
 him better than my own soul; I love him now. 
 My heart breaks with loneliness when I think of 
 him ; you see I am not cured. Bad as I am, and 
 unfit to be the associate of good people, who are 
 Christians, in the sight of God T am his wife, 
 and I shall be^at the judgment day."' 
 
 Reuben Harlow groaned. Just so he loved 
 her, and to what had it brought him? To ruin, 
 desolation, and death! And yet he was as noth 
 ing in her sight. He held out his hand in 
 farewell, but she did not offer to take it. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said hoarsely; "I have only 
 a little while to live; let me help you if you 
 need me. I am going back to the old place. 
 Promise me, Jennie, by the memory of the years 
 when we were so happy together, that you will 
 send to me, if you want me while I live; but
 
 THE NARROW PATH. 199 
 
 if if I must go soon oh, God, how can I say 
 good-bye forever! " 
 
 " Not forever, Reuben ; and indeed, I would 
 ask you first, of all the world, to befriend me. 
 Good-bye, and God bless you, Eeuben ; if He 
 will hear me." 
 
 And Reuben walked feebly away, coughing 
 and tottering like an old man. Jennie looked 
 after him, and hot tears of anguish rolled down 
 her cheeks. The night had darkened and the 
 stars were shining faintly in the blue sky, far, 
 far above her. There was only a small square 
 of Heaven visible, but how calm and peaceful it 
 looked! How often she had watched those same 
 stars from the old farm-house, and mused upon 
 the beautiful, far-off world she longed to see and 
 know. And how had it served her? 
 
 Tears blotted out the stars and the heavens, 
 and she went into the house, and groped her 
 way to the two poor rooms she and her mother 
 occupied.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE GOSPEL OF PEACE. 
 
 " Not God had wrought her hapless woe, 
 Had sent her wandering to and fro. 
 She did not fear, alone with Him, 
 Though sense were dead, and soul were dim. 
 From man the blow that killed her came, 
 From man her craving grief and shame, 
 On him lay all the bitter blame, 
 
 From him she asked her child." 
 
 E 'D better rouse yourself, Miss. It 's 
 them undertaker's men a coming." 
 
 They were bringing in a pine coffin, 
 with much unnecessary noise and shuffling, and 
 had forgotten the mechanical grace of lifting 
 their hats from their heads as they passed over 
 this poor threshold. 
 
 Jennie arose slowly from beside the white 
 
 sheeted form and walked wearily to the window; 
 
 her face was white and drawn, but tearless. How 
 
 could she weep that the weary life was ended iu 
 
 (200)
 
 Let not your heart be troubled." Page 203.
 
 THE GOSPEL OF PEACE. 2OI 
 
 infinite rest? She could almost rejoice with the 
 released spirit. She tried to follow it to the 
 Paradise of God, but poor Jennie's theological 
 views were sadly obscure; while she was sure 
 that her mother had gone to Heaven, she herself 
 seemed only more surely barred out, and she was 
 beginning to have a dreadful, listless feeling that 
 it did not matter much what became of her, and 
 to feel rather sure she had been lost from the 
 beginning, as though God could, after giving His 
 Son for a ransomed world, let any soul be eter 
 nally lost. 
 
 Some one touched her rudely on the shoulder. 
 It was the undertaker's man ; but when she 
 turned, and he saw her face, he stepped back and 
 touched his hat. 
 
 " It 's all right now," he said, with a glance of 
 professional inspection toward the coffin. " It 's 
 snug and light, quite fit for a lady. And here 's 
 the bill, Miss." 
 
 Jennie took the slip of paper and paid the 
 amount it called for with her last poor earnings. 
 The man still lingered, and looked appealingly 
 toward Mrs. Lannigan, the woman from whom 
 Jennie rented the rooms.
 
 2O2 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " It 's the funeral he manes," said that person, 
 coming forward. "As ye refused to have any 
 wake, perhaps ye won't mind hevin' any praste 
 or funeral, Miss." 
 
 "No, "said Jennie, hoarsely; "there will be 
 no funeral ; you can send here this afternoon, 
 for the the body. That is all." 
 
 The man was accustomed to straits of all kinds, 
 in life and in death; it did not matter whether 
 the clay was coarse and common, or lovely and 
 refined ; to get it out of the way as speedily as 
 possible was his sole object. But here was some 
 thing he did not like to encounter, this white, 
 fixed despair of the living. He tried to think 
 of something consoling to say, and finally 
 remarked : 
 
 "If it would make you feel any better, Miss, 
 there 's a minister lives down by the Lake, who 
 would come willingly, and say a prayer or two 
 at the time of the fun'ral. He 's a mighty nice 
 sort of man, and does n't belong to any particu 
 lar church ; but is a real, wide-awake Christian, 
 on a pretty big scale." 
 
 " Holy Mother! he manes the man that praches 
 in the theytre," ejaculated Mrs. Laimigan.
 
 THE GOSPEL OF PEACE. 203 
 
 " That 's because no other place will hold the 
 people who go to hear him. He 's what they call 
 a sympathetic preacher, and makes every one feel 
 as if he 'd been as sinful and as miserable as they 
 are. He will do you good, Miss, if any one can." 
 
 " Thank you," answered Jennie, passively; 
 "perhaps he would not care to come; but if he 
 will, he may at least offer a prayer, not for the 
 dead but for the living." 
 
 She had heard this preacher, absorbed as she 
 had at the time been, in sinful pleasures and an 
 unholy love; she had never forgotten his words, 
 but she remembered him as popular, gifted, and 
 prosperous. Would he condescend to visit 
 poverty and sin? 
 
 He came that afternoon; a slight, dark man, 
 with a pleasant face and a wonderful magnetism 
 of manner. Jennie was bending over the thin, 
 white face of her mother, taking that final 
 agonized look that must last the hungry heart so 
 long so long, when a hand, tender and kindly 
 as a woman's, fell upon her head, and a low, 
 persuasive voice said: 
 
 " Let not your heart be troubled ; ye believe 
 in God, believe also in Me."
 
 204 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 She stood erect, calmed, hushed, by that low, 
 controlling voice. .Reverently the minister ap 
 proached the dead, and gazed for a moment in 
 silence; then he looked about the room. There 
 were present, the undertaker's men, Mrs. Lan- 
 nigan her prejudices revealed in her face 
 two or three dirty, slatternly women, who had 
 dropped in, and looked half-sober, half-aggressive 
 and wholly incongruous, and the tall, slender, 
 beautiful girl, with the manners of a lady, the 
 plain black dress of a nun, and a face of desolate 
 anguish. Then he bowed his head in prayer. 
 
 I wish I could reproduce his words here; but 
 the fire on the altar is dead. They did their 
 work, however. "Jennie felt a peace, such as she 
 nad never before known, steal over her soul; Mrs. 
 Lannigan forgot the m'an was not "apraste," 
 and cried aloud ; while every heart there was 
 touched as by a divine influence. 
 
 After the prayer the minister talked to them. 
 It was not prayer, it was not preaching, just a 
 few comforting texts, a revelation of God as the 
 Father, instead of the Judge. 
 
 " Man," he said, " had come to us in all ages, 
 and offered us a Deity fashioned after the nearest
 
 THE GOSPEL OF PEACE. 205 
 
 king or despot, and millions of children, old and 
 young, have gone to bed at night, whispering 
 their prayers to a Deity, not so kind, nor so 
 sweet, nor so just, as the mother who had just 
 bidden them ' good night.' In past days there 
 used to be a dreadful fear that perhaps we might 
 any night go from the kingdom of our mother 
 to the kingdom of God. Our mother seemed 
 always more beautiful than such a God. Now 
 we know Him as He is, long suffering and 
 patient, tender, and of infinite compassion, ready 
 to hear and to save; the friend of sinners." 
 
 Then he turned to Jennie, with the words, 
 " Your mother has bidden you good night, and 
 gone to her rest; in the sunshine of eternal day, 
 you will bid her a blessed good morning. lie- 
 member that ' whosoever will ' may find Him ; 
 the golden chords of love are ever dra\ving us 
 upward into the atmosphere of rest, peace, and 
 compensation, where He dwells. Christ died for 
 us, God lives for us, for you and me. Trust 
 Him; no "matter how often you fail and faint, 
 fall or stumble, feel in the dark for His hand, 
 and it will lead you out of great darkness into 
 perfect light."
 
 206 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 " Sure he spakes as well as any praste I ever 
 heard," said Mrs. Lannigan, wiping her eyes and 
 shuffling out of the room after- the bearers and 
 the coffin, leaving Jennie alone to the desolation 
 of a dwelling vacated by death. 
 
 The minister shook hands with her and went 
 his way. He had treated her just as he would 
 have treated any other sorrowing human soul, 
 irrespective of surroundings. He knew she was 
 under the ban of sin, but what particular sin he 
 did not ask nor care to know; he came to her as 
 a messenger from God, bringing glad tidings of 
 great joy, if she would but receive them. 
 
 That night a reaction set in, and Jennie raved 
 with fever. Mrs. Lannigan and her set did what 
 they could, for the Irish heart has a fountain of 
 kindness down in its depths. Those poor scrub 
 women took care of Jennie as well as they knew 
 how, and \vhen she arose, like a ghost, from that 
 sick-bed, they tried to find work for her. 
 
 Did you ever try to find work in a large city, 
 where the supply of laborers constantly exceeds 
 the demand? If you are a woman, young, deli 
 cate, and without friends, you will find the battle 
 a tough one. There are thousands of such cases
 
 THE GOSPEL OF PEACE. 2O/ 
 
 in this great city, of women, young, weak, and 
 helpless, who have drifted here from the green 
 fields of the country, and fought the demon of 
 want, toil, and hardship, till they went down and 
 were lost to sight forever. There is no Young 
 
 Women's Christian Association. 
 
 The homes of the rich open their doors wide 
 to the Ross Farnhams of society, but they are 
 shut and barred to his victim. Yery good. The 
 way of the transgressor should be hard. But 
 what about those who have not yet become trans 
 gressors ; who are hesitating over the fatal plunge? 
 They should not be dependent upon the caprices 
 of one woman or many. An association of the 
 strongest and best women in the city, women 
 above petty, personal feelings, above the strife of 
 party preferment, and influenced by the divine 
 principles of humanity, should be formed to 
 warn, help, and save, not the fallen, but the 
 falling; not to tell the story with illustrations at 
 every social gathering, but to do so much, that 
 there will not be a story to tell; to supplement 
 every saving deed with another, till they reach 
 the skies. The church cannot do this work,
 
 208 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 i 
 neither can the State; it is for loyal Christian 
 
 womanhood to accomplish. 
 
 The next chapter in Jennie's true story may 
 sound like a burlesque; it is but a faithful trans 
 cription of what actually occurred at a veritable 
 meeting. It is not intended to cast any slur 
 upon the public conventions of women, but there 
 are good people who will readily testify to the 
 faithfulness of the report.
 
 CHAPTEK XXIV. 
 
 IX SOLEMN CONCLAVE. 
 
 HERE was a meeting of the B. W. A. 
 Society in one of the public halls of 
 the city. Notices had appeared in the 
 evening and morning papers, announcing it, 
 stating that it was to be held in the interests of 
 reform, and calling upon all thinking women to 
 come forward and endorse it by their presence. 
 The afternoon named found a large audience, 
 composed of women, prominent in all public 
 work; women who seldom went anywhere but ta 
 church; literary women, business women, and 
 fashionable women; with also a number of 
 earnest, thinking women, who seldom found time 
 to attend such a gathering, but hoped for much 
 good from this. There was also a sprinkling of 
 men, reformers, free-thinkers, lawyers, and poli 
 ticians. They all looked curious and uncomfor 
 table, as though they did not know what they 
 
 were there for. 
 
 14 (209)
 
 210 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 A very pretty woman, in green silk, point lace, 
 and diamonds, sat with the other women on the 
 platform, and nodded and smiled approvingly as 
 one and another she had invited to be present, 
 came in. This was the Hon. Mrs. Bliss, who 
 was a leader in society, as well as an enthusiastic 
 member of the B. W. A. S. Having never 
 worked any herself, she felt called upon to advo 
 cate the cause of working women. Her soft 
 complexion and tranquil features seemed cast in 
 the mould of an eternal smile simper, her 
 enemies called it; however, she made a charming 
 centrepiece for the platform, and when she cla*sped 
 her hands in mimic feeling the diamonds 
 sparkled beautifully. 
 
 The meeting was called to order by the Presi 
 dent of the Society, Mrs. Monroe, who made a 
 brief address, announcing that it was strictly a 
 women's meeting, and would the gentlemen 
 please to withdraw? 
 
 Upon this about a dozen arose, looked very 
 much abashed, and filed out noiselessly, as if 
 afraid of waking somebody. The doors were 
 closed, and the President was about to proceed 
 to business, when she discovered a young man
 
 IN SOLEMN CONCLAVE. 211 
 
 busily sharpening a pencil. His pink cheeks 
 were dimpling with professional mirth as he 
 imagined he had been overlooked ; but as he 
 caught the eye of the superior officer, and saw 
 the uplifted finger, he took his hat and meekly 
 retired with the rest, and once more peace reigned 
 in the hall. 
 
 Then the President gave her address. The 
 magnetism of her personal appearance, added to 
 the air of self-conviction natural to her, inspired 
 her followers with a devout faith in her ability to 
 work wonders. That she never did accomplish 
 anything was left for the records to show. She 
 had the faculty of talking well, and filling the 
 air with the small shot of sounding ideas, which 
 never killed any wrong. Her hobby now, was to 
 reclaim the fallen, and she unrolled a petition 
 that looked like a panorama of Egypt, and 
 requested every lady present to sign it. There 
 were models of hospitals, asylums, refuges, co 
 operative boarding-houses, foundling homes, and 
 what not, covering one side of it. The opposite 
 side held the petitioners' names. 
 
 The majority of the ladies were delighted with 
 the drawings. A community on paper looks so
 
 212 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 well; but they did not care to add their names 
 just yet. A few appended straggling signatures, 
 and felt as if they were signing a new Emanci 
 pation document. 
 
 When Mrs. Monroe sat down, a modest look 
 ing woman, in a quiet suit of gray, with white 
 hair banded back under a Quaker's bonnet, arose 
 and said: 
 
 " It seems to me it would be a pleasant and 
 kindly thing to prevent those women from the 
 necessity of falling. If thee would make more 
 familiar acquaintance with these young working 
 girls, and hedge them about with social compan 
 ionship of their own kind, and help them to the 
 innocent pleasures of life, thee would help them 
 to preserve their purity, and I hold that would 
 be better than wading into a pit to help them 
 out." 
 
 " I second that," said an earnest voice from 
 the gallery; ' ; especially if we have helped dig 
 the pit, as so many of us have, into which they 
 are fallen." 
 
 " And I claim that it is easier to save ten girls 
 from falling, than to reform one who has fallen," 
 added another.
 
 IN SOLEMN CONCLAVE. 213 
 
 " That is not the object of this meeting," said 
 the President. " It is the sick who need a physi 
 cian. I 
 
 " Mrs. President," shrieked an old lady, with 
 a very high forehead and a sanctimonious whine, 
 "I think I perceive a man in the gallery! " 
 
 Had she announced the presence of a royal 
 Bengal tiger it could not have produced a more 
 decided sensation. Though nothing had been 
 said, or was likely to be said, that might not be 
 spoken upon the house-top, the air of mystery 
 that enveloped the meeting made it presumable 
 that something dreadful was coming. At this 
 announcement one-half of the audience sprang 
 to their feet in alarm, and everybody stared at 
 the gallery. The man proved to be a very comely 
 young woman, in a reform dress, and she was at 
 once invited to a seat on the platform. 
 
 The next speaker was a benevolent-looking, 
 elderly woman, who wished to present a special 
 case. 
 
 " It is that of a young girl," she said, " who 
 came here from the country and lived with some 
 woman she did not give me her name who 
 betrayed her in the basest manner. She was
 
 214 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 totally ignorant of the ways of the world, a 
 mere child in years, and the only child of poor 
 parents, who expected much from her. She was 
 betrayed by this woman into the hands of a 
 libertine relative who had been cared for under 
 her father's poor roof; the man did not cast her 
 off, but it would have come to the same thing 
 in the end. He deluded her for awhile with the 
 old sophistry, about mere formalities, and as she 
 was extremely beautiful, he maintained her in 
 magnificence. 
 
 " The awakening came when she found her old 
 mother wandering about the streets, in rags and 
 insanity, looking for her lost child, and learned 
 that her father had died by his own hand upon 
 hearing of her disgrace. She took her mother 
 to poor lodgings, resigned all that her lover, had 
 bestowed upon her, and went to work to make an 
 honest living. After a dreadful struggle, during 
 which no friend she had ever known before would 
 speak to her, her mother died, and she herself 
 has just risen from a bed of sickness, where she 
 was nursed and tended by some common laboring 
 people poor in all but kindness. . 
 
 " I know there are ladies here to-day who can
 
 IN SOLEMN CONCLAVE. 21$ 
 
 assure this girl's future by giving her employ 
 ment; she can sew beautifully and do all kinds 
 of embroidery, but she is not strong enough to 
 do housework. She says that she was a sort of 
 companion to the woman who first brought her 
 to this city; some of you who have invalid friends 
 might find her useful in that way. I would take 
 her myself, but I expect to leave the city in a 
 few days, for Europe. She promised to come 
 here this afternoon, and here she is," added the 
 speaker as the door opened and shut, and a slight, 
 fair girl entered and sat down near the entrance, 
 as if hiding from observation. 
 
 Mrs. Monroe was very much agitated by the 
 appearance of this girl; but no one noticed her, 
 for all eyes were turned upon the slender figure 
 in black, while a murmur of admiring comment 
 ran through the assembly. How beautiful she 
 was! Her skin was almost transparent in its 
 delicacy; her large, dark eyes were sad and wist 
 ful, and her features were exquisitely regular. 
 The expression of her face was that of one who 
 has suffered much, and the large, dark eyes 
 larger and darker from sickness were fixed 
 with imploring intensity upon her one friend
 
 2l6 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 present the lady who was presenting her case. 
 Need I say that this girl was Jennie Armstrong! 
 
 When Jennie looked up and saw Mrs. Monroe 
 it seemed to her as if she must turn and fly, if 
 even into great darkness. The woman who had 
 so treacherously befriended her; who had been 
 bribed, as she now believed, to betray her! 
 
 The ladies crowded about her, and asked a 
 multitude of questions, some of which brought 
 the hot flush of sensibility to her cheeks. They 
 meant it kindly enough, and intended to try and 
 help her; but there seemed to be no decision of 
 purpose. Each one felt obliged to ask permission 
 of her husband, or of some relative, before she 
 could give the stranger a home. One lady, a 
 prominent member of a then prominent church, 
 offered to consult her minister, and abide by his 
 decision; she was a pretty, vain, impulsive 
 woman, who did about as she pleased, making 
 liberal donations to the church, giving fine pres 
 ents to the minister's wife, and wearing larger 
 diamonds and more of them than any member 
 of her society. She made up in appearance what 
 she lacked in intelligence, and the Church smiled 
 at her follies and did good with her money. She
 
 IN SOLEMN CONCLAVE. 21 / 
 
 had come here to-day out of respect for Mrs. 
 Bliss, and she felt really grieved for the young 
 girl who looked so sorrow-stricken ; she summed 
 up .in her own mind the cast-off dresses she would 
 bestow upon her, and she was sure the Church 
 would act handsomely in the matter. | 
 
 Mrs. Monroe felt that she must say something. . 
 It was expected of her; but all the bitterness of 
 her nature seemed to surge up and choke her. 
 One lady, who had been regarding her fixedly, 
 and had noted her agitation, now said : 
 
 "Perhaps, Mrs. President, you know some 
 thing of this case, and will advise us what to do 
 with the girl." 
 
 There is no cruelty so malignant as that of a 
 small nature. Mrs. Monroe had much at stake; 
 it had been her intention, from the moment 
 Jennie entered, not to take any step toward 
 acknowledging a past acquaintance; that she felt 
 might not be creditable to herself in all eyes. 
 Now that she was called upon and must speak, 
 she chose to say : 
 
 " I know her to be confirmed in ways of sin." 
 
 It was the one blow too much. Perhaps she 
 thought Jennie would not dare resent it. The
 
 21 8 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 girl sprang to her feet and walked up the aisle, 
 with flashing eyes, and confronted the speaker. 
 In these years she had learned to speak with 
 dignity and clearness. The reformer sank back 
 in her chair, and her featnres assumed an air of 
 stony defiance. 
 
 ' How dare you insult me so! " cried the girl, 
 looking at her as if, in her frenzy, she might 
 spring upon her. " I may be bad I certainly 
 have been but I am a thousand times better 
 than you ! What is your marriage to you, but a 
 lie but perjury! I have not murdered the 
 innocent, as you have done! I have never turned ^ 
 helpless girls into the streets, to further a base 
 purpose, and then taunted them with the sin I 
 helped them to commit! You help the fallen! 
 You lead people to a higher life! I tell you, it 
 is you, and such as you, that bring discredit on 
 the charities of better women ! If I were home 
 less, houseless, and starving as God knows I 
 am I would never touch the bread that you 
 offered me, or sleep under a roof that your charity 
 had procured me!" 
 
 She was whiter than any dead woman when she 
 sat down, mentally and physically exhausted. A
 
 IN SOLEMN CONCLAVE. 2 19 
 
 suppressed murmur ran through the hall, met 
 by severe tokens of displeasure from the adhe 
 rents of Mrs. Monroe, who rallied about her in 
 vehement indignation. Cries of " Shame! shame 
 to attack such a good woman!" "Turn her 
 into the streets again; she is totally depraved," 
 etc., etc., rung through the hall. 
 
 The lady who had brought Jennie there came 
 to her at once, accompanied by the pretty friend 
 of Mrs. Bliss. This was Mrs. Bailey, who had 
 made up her elaborate mind to take a step 
 without consulting the minister, and as she was 
 going to the watering places for the season, to 
 give Jennie a home in consideration of certain 
 duties in connection with her summer wardrobe. 
 Jennie parted with her friend of a few weeks 
 with genuine sorrow.
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE. 
 
 OW indeed, Providence seemed to be 
 friend Jennie. Mrs. Bailey proved to 
 be very kind in her way, demanding 
 but light service of her, and was always pleasant 
 and considerate. She knew just what Jennie's 
 past history had been, and was inclined to lay all 
 the blame where it justly belonged ; but on this 
 portion of her life Jennie was mute, and Mrs. 
 Bailey had tact enough to let it alone. She was 
 rather fond of a foolish, good-looking husband, 
 who believed everything she told him, no matter 
 how improbable, and she liked all other gentle 
 men well enough to flirt vigorously with them 
 upon all possible occasions. Whatever entangle 
 ments she got into she came out of with flying 
 colors, helped by the infantile innocence of her 
 
 face and the endorsement of the Church. She 
 (220)
 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE. 221 
 
 was very much in love with life, and the world, 
 which had used her well. 
 
 " 1 hope you are comfortable," she said, look 
 ing in upon Jennie, the first day of her engage 
 ment. "This is the coolest room in the house; 
 but I daresay you find it warm sewing. I think 
 you may rip off all the lace upon that pink silk; 
 I have several yards of new point to trim it 
 with, and you will find the buttons in my work- 
 basket; they were fifteen dollars a dozen, and are 
 perfectly lovely. "When you finish that, you 
 may do the knife plaiting for that violet 
 organdie. I shall be out an hour or more." 
 
 When she was left alone, Jennie threw down 
 her work and began a slow walk up and down 
 the room. The work was utterly and wholly 
 distasteful to her, and a dreadful weariness 
 seemed to have taken possession of her, much 
 of which was due to ill health. Would she 
 never be well again, and strong enough to work 
 with comfort? She walked to the elegant mirror 
 shrouded in costly lace, and looked at herself. 
 Heavens ! how like a penitent she looked, in her 
 coarse black dress. She held up her hands; how 
 white and thin they were! A ring she wore
 
 222 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 her mother's wedding ring just a small, worn 
 circlet of gold, nearly dropped off her finger. 
 
 This sort of life, with its hardships and sneers 
 and snubs, was wearing her out ; but she had an 
 inner consciousness that she was doing right; 
 she had tried to be true to herself. She would 
 live down that short and fatal past, that had 
 branded her with infamy. She went back to her 
 sewing, and worked to make up for lost time. 
 She sewed till her back ached and her face 
 flushed, and it was very hard to breathe; and 
 still she sewed on. 
 
 " Why not? " she thought, bitterly. " Better 
 women do it every day, and who pities or cares 
 for them!" 
 
 A few days after this, when Mrs. Bailey was 
 absent on one of- her frequent shopping excur 
 sions, her brother from the North Side came in, 
 and, as he was accustomed to do, went through 
 the house, looking for his sister, seeking her, at 
 last, in the front room up-stairs where Jennie 
 was sewing. He was a bachelor, the eldest of 
 the family, and a man who had seen the world 
 in all its phases. He was so sure of finding his 
 sister in her favorite room that he walked in
 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE. 223 
 
 without ceremony, before he saw that a strangei 
 occupied it. 
 
 " Excuse me, Miss," he said, bowing carelessly, 
 " but I expected to find Mrs. Bailey here." Then 
 he stared blankly at Jennie's flushed face, ejacu 
 lated, "The devil! " and went out, slamming the 
 door behind him. 
 
 At the front gate he met his sister, coming in. 
 " Alice, who is that girl?" he asked, pointing 
 up-stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Bailey had just bought a Chantilly lace 
 fichu at a bargain, consequently she was in 
 radiant good humor. 
 
 " Who is that girl?" she repeated slowly. 
 " Why, she is a seamstress furnished me by a 
 Society in the city; she sews beautifully. Isn't 
 she handsome?" 
 
 " Well, yes, rather. I should keep Tom out 
 of her way; you know how susceptible he is." 
 
 "Why, you dreadful boy! My Tom! Why, I 
 do n't believe he could tell whether she is white 
 or copper-colored. Now with you it would be 
 entirely different." 
 
 " Humph! yes, I think it would. By the way, 
 "Alice, when did you see Eoss Farnham last? ''
 
 224 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 "When! why at the last reception; I danced 
 with him. He dances elegantly; but then he is 
 an elegant gentleman." And she smiled inno 
 cently into her brother's face. 
 
 " Well, you need not fall down and worship 
 him, if he is. Ross is well enough as we fellows 
 go, but his reputation is beginning to be a little 
 shaky, even with us, and you know that means a 
 great deal. Tom is such a good fellow he never 
 knows any harm of anybody; but I won't see 
 my sister imposed on by any one with a char 
 acter like Ross Farnham's." 
 
 "Thanks, dear; your sister appreciates your 
 good intentions, but you know I meet many such 
 men in society, and must be agreeable to them. 
 We ladies are not supposed to know of their 
 little peccadilloes." 
 
 " There you are mistaken, Alice. Such men 
 are not common ; society men are not all unprin 
 cipled roues, and even among them Ross Farn- 
 ham is despised." 
 
 " Yet I hear he is going to marry that pretty 
 and accomplished Miss Badger, an only daughter 
 and an heiress." 
 
 " Certainly ; you ladies always exalt such a
 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE. 22$ 
 
 man into a hero. To be a libertine or a brigand 
 
 o 
 
 is sure to make a man successful in laying siege 
 to your hearts." 
 
 " Nonsense, Frank ; you are jealous. You 
 know you were in love with Ida Badger yourself 
 all the gentlemen are," retorted his sister. 
 
 "Perhaps. Well, she had the bad taste to 
 select Ross, and I surrender gracefully. Good 
 bye, Alice, I 'm off." And he walked away, 
 humming a lively air. 
 
 At the first corner he stopped and looked back. 
 k ' It is n't just the thing for Alice to have that 
 girl in the house; I wonder if she knows any 
 thing, about her. How cut up the poor thing 
 looks! I wonder if Farnham does anything for 
 her; it is rough, I must say. I will think about 
 it before I speak to Alice." 
 
 " I wonder how long it will be before she will 
 come up and say I am not wanted," thought 
 Jennie, who knew how vacillating Mrs. Bailey 
 could be at times. 
 
 It seemed now as if there might be a respite 
 
 for the poor girl from the fate that faced her; 
 
 but the second week of her engagement brought 
 
 a social morning call from a wealthy member of 
 
 15
 
 226 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 the Church, who was a dragon of virtue herself, 
 and tolerated no lapses of it in others. She had 
 been present at the meeting of the Society when 
 Jennie made her brief speech, and she had taken 
 sides with Mrs. Monroe, and heard that lady's 
 version of Jennie's baseness and ingratitude. 
 Mrs. Bailey, who had no idea of this being a 
 special visit, called to the girl to- show Mrs. 
 Holton up-stairs, and in a few moments the 
 visitor entered the sewing-room, very hot and 
 flushed, and exceedingly pompous. 
 
 Mrs. Bailey hastened to bring forward the 
 coolest and most comfortable chair in the room, 
 and her caller was just about to settle herself in 
 it, when her cold, gray eyes lighted on Jennie, 
 sewing meekly, without even raising her head. 
 There was instantly a storm of indignant protes 
 tation, as Mrs. Holton appealed to Mrs. Bailey 
 to know if this was an intentional insult. 
 
 "That girl!" shrieked Mrs. Holton, looking 
 in imminent danger of apoplexy. " Do you 
 know who she is, and then bring me me 
 into the very same room with her! " 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Holton !" gasped Mrs. Bailey; for 
 this was a Church pillar, worth half a million.
 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE. 
 
 "Forgive me; but indeed I never thought of 
 her. You know I employed her purely from 
 charity; she had no home, and is such a lovely 
 hand to make over and and, do you really 
 think that she is wicked now?" 
 
 "Wicked! Steeped in wickedness." 
 
 Poor Jennie had escaped from the room by 
 this time, and Mrs. Holton had fallen back 
 in the rocking-chair, and was fanning herself 
 violently. 
 
 " Of course, you can have no conception of 
 what she is ; but you wrong yourself and society 
 by keeping such a creature under your roof. 
 And last Sunday you took her to church, and 
 actually allowed her to sit in your pew; and my 
 son my son, Mrs. Bailey saw her, and no 
 doubt thought she was a relative of yours. He 
 said she had an interesting face, and he felt sure 
 she had a history. A history, indeed! I should 
 think she had." 
 
 Here the woman stopped for want of breath, 
 and Mrs. Bailey, who was really kind-hearted, 
 ventured another appeal for Jennie. 
 
 " She was so young, Mrs. Holton, and she had 
 no friends here, and her punishment has been so
 
 228 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 dreadful. Can we not do something for her, 
 amongst us ? " 
 
 " Certainly," responded the matron, with 
 great dignity ; " there is the Refuge and the 
 Good Shepherd, institutions for just such cases. 
 I myself will recommend her as a suitable 
 applicant." 
 
 If Mrs. Bailey had been a woman of spirit 
 she would, at this moment, have turned the Hon. 
 Mrs. Hoi ton out of her house, and remanded 
 Jennie back to her work; but she was bound, 
 hand and foot, by the golden chains of conserva 
 tism, and she was loyal to her tyrant. So she 
 meekly said: 
 
 " She would not live a week in either place; 
 but she might get work where they did not 
 know about her past life." 
 
 " Well, I have done my duty as Directress of 
 our Society. If you continue to harbor this girl 
 under your roof we shall feel it to be our duty 
 as mothers and consistent church members, to 
 keep our young people from all contact with her, 
 and you will find, dear Mrs. Bailey, your own 
 position a very unpleasant one." 
 
 " I am going away in a week," said Mrs.
 
 MRS. GRUNDY AND FATE. 22Q 
 
 Bailey, who anticipated her departure, in hopes 
 of conciliating her mentor, " and shall have no 
 further need of her services. She has behaved 
 well since she has been here, and done her work 
 faithfully; but perhaps it is better as you say 
 the influence may be wrong. I shall, of course, 
 act upon your advice, and am greatly obliged." 
 
 She closed the front door, as her visitor sailed 
 majestically down the steps, and went back to 
 find Jennie. She discovered her in the small 
 bedroom allotted to her use, thrown face down 
 ward upon the bed, crying bitterly. 
 
 "Isn't it a shame!" exclaimed Mrs. Bailey. 
 " Of course you heard every word she said; that 
 horrid woman! But we all have to do just as 
 she says. Now, what will you do? " 
 
 " Oh," said Jennie, sitting up and wiping the 
 tears from her drenched face, " I must look for 
 another situation, of course; I do not expect to 
 stay here. You have been very kind to me. It 
 is very hard, living in this way with no friends 
 of my own, and I am so, so wretched." And 
 Jennie began to sob again. 
 
 " I tell you what," began Mrs. Bailey, as a 
 sudden thought took possession of her; "go and
 
 230 
 
 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 see our minister. He is a beautiful man ; such 
 white hands, and so consoling! If any one. can 
 help you he can, and he is very benevolent. I 
 will see him to-night, at prayer meeting, and say 
 that you will be there to-morrow evening; he 
 will be at his study in the church then. I am 
 so glad I thought of him. E~ow, will you go? " 
 "Yes," said Jennie, whose soul still found 
 comfort in the echoes of that other minister's 
 words of comfort, " I will go."
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 THE GOSPEL OF GUSH. 
 
 T was a beautiful church, and the min 
 ister was a beautiful man! Handsome 
 to look at and good to listen to; his 
 voice was soft and persuasive, and had an under 
 tone of gospel s\veetness. He stood in the door 
 of his fold, and called his sheep gently and they 
 ame gladly at their shepherd's call. It was so 
 easy to follow him and obey his commands. He 
 was not a wolf in sheep's clothing, either, but a 
 kind, considerate pastor, who had prayed and 
 pleaded with his people, always in that same 
 gentle voice, and with that sweet, persuasive 
 manner, until he had lost his strength, amassed 
 a fortune, and shifted half the burden of 
 securing the salvation of souls on other should 
 ers. The ladies of his congregation adored him. 
 They heaped upon him embroidered slippers
 
 232 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 and quilted silk dressing gowns, and poured out 
 all the secret sorrows of their hearts into the 
 confessional of his gentle ears. When he made 
 his ministerial calls, Mrs. A. told him how she 
 hated Mrs. B., and he cast oil on the troubled 
 waters. When his health failed he met his 
 people in his study at the church. 
 
 Here Jennie sought him. Her courage nearly 
 failed her when she stood in the door-way, but 
 she felt that if ever a poor, sinful mortal needed 
 help she was that one; so she tapped lightly on 
 the study door, and waited with a fearful heart. 
 She was thankful that he knew she was coming, 
 and would have thought over her needs before 
 hand, and be ready to throw some light on her 
 dark, shadowed path. 
 
 In response to her timid knock he opened the 
 door, and she saw that he was alone. He 
 extended his hand such a beautiful hand, soft, 
 white, and supple and smiled kindly, all the 
 "while looking over her shoulder in a nervous, 
 frightened manner, into the church corridor 
 beyond, feebly lighted by a dim lamp. As soon 
 as she entered he locked the door, and in answer 
 to Jennie's look of surprise, said:
 
 THE GOSPEL OF GUSH. 233 
 
 " I do not wish to be interrupted. There is a 
 choir meeting in the church to-night, and if any 
 of the members saw you come in there would be 
 a dozen excuses made to get in here. Now, if 
 you please, I am ready to hear your story." 
 
 "My story!" echoed Jennie, surprised and 
 hurt; " I thought you knew it; that Mrs. Bailey 
 had told you." 
 
 He smiled pleasantly. "Mrs. Bailey is so 
 ^romantic, and so much the creature of feeling, 
 that I always find it impossible to discriminate 
 between the real and the imaginary in her 
 stories. If you will give me an outline of your 
 life I will see what can be done for you." 
 
 She told him all, trying to forget that it was 
 anything else but soul talking to soul; yet she 
 lacked the inspiration which his presence should 
 have given her. This emissary of our Blessed 
 Master had neither sinned nor suffered; his face 
 w r as smooth and seamless; no indentures from 
 the crown of thorns had given character to his 
 brow; no stormy surges of feeling had paled his 
 cheek. How could he appreciate this girl's 
 temptation and sorrow ! How could he sympa 
 thize with the anguish that oppressed her!
 
 234 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 He heard her through kindly, listening with 
 passive emotion to the whole sad story of her 
 temptation and fall, the death of her father and 
 mother, her own repentance, and the world's 
 scorn. He was accustomed to gushing confi 
 dences of sin and folly, while a jeweled white 
 hand would be laid softly upon his shoulder to 
 emphasize the story, and a sparkling shower of 
 repentant tears would follow, and the next day 
 a check for the dear pastor to use toward some 
 favorite project. But this poorly-clad, sorrowing 
 girl was of another sort. She had a fineness of 
 organization that would offer a life of atonement 
 for a year of sin. How should he deal with one 
 who was so different from the lambs of his 
 own flock! 
 
 A ray of light reached the perplexed pastor. 
 It came from the key-hole of the study door. 
 He rose nervously and hung his handkerchief 
 over the knob. As he did so there was a sudden 
 rustling without. 
 
 " There was a member of the choir on her 
 knees there," he said, looking very nervous and 
 uncomfortable. " Do you think any one saw 
 you come in? "
 
 THE GOSPEL OF GUSH. 235 
 
 "And if any one did," answered Jennie, with 
 a shade of contempt in her voice, "what of it? 
 Surely my presence in your study cannot hurt 
 you, sir! " 
 
 "No-o," was the cautious reply; "but if my 
 wife came in she might be angry, and those 
 other women; oh dear! you cannot understand; 
 but they are ready to tear me in pieces between 
 them, and 'if they saw you here, I should 
 probably be blamed for not calling a church 
 council in the matter. No, I really cannot help 
 you without making matters worse. I have so 
 many similar cases presented to my notice that, 
 were I to give attention to them all, I should 
 have no time left to do my Blessed Master's 
 work. Try and live a better life; remember 
 that Christ died for sinners, such as you, and 
 and are you going? Do not let any one see 
 you if you can help it." 
 
 Such were the husks he offered to her starving 
 soul. 
 
 The good pastor did not feel quite satisfied 
 with himself, however, and the next day he 
 called on Boss Farnham, at his elegant hotel, to 
 remonstrate with him upon his sin, and to ask
 
 236 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 him to do something for Jennie. When 
 informed that she would neither see Ross nor 
 receive aid from him, the minister felt that he 
 was released from further interest in the matter, 
 and sat down to a luxurious dinner, as Mr. 
 Farnham's guest, with a clear conscience and a 
 good digestion. 
 
 On the event of the pastor's birth-day, a few 
 weeks later, a superb silver-mounted dressing- 
 case was sent in, with '.Ross Farnham's compli 
 ments! 
 
 Verily, the laborer is worthy of his hire!
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 VISIT] E PROTECTED. 
 
 IN is sweet ! Whatever bitterness it 
 may leave at the last, its first taste 
 is sugared to the palate. It is not till 
 the draught reaches the soul, and strikes it& 
 deadly blight there, that the victim feels it is a 
 tearful poison. All the ways to sin are made 
 alluring bright with pleasure, blooming with 
 light, and full of gay company. The narrow 
 path is hard to walk in : It is full of self-denial ; 
 the brambles cut and tear the fainting flesh ; the 
 jeers of those who are going the other way 
 make a constant din; but at the end are the 
 Eternal Heights, and to him that overcometh it 
 shall be given to be a pillar in the temple of 
 God. I have always thought that passage 
 should read to her that overcometh, since it 
 is woman alone who must walk in the pre 
 scribed path. 
 
 (237j
 
 238 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 Upon this narrow path Jennie had entered, 
 weary, hungry, sorrowful, and alone. 
 
 Where was Reuben all this time? Back again 
 at the hospital, wearing out, in the struggle 
 for breath. He lost all trace of Jennie when 
 she left Mrs. Lanni^an's. At last he wrote to 
 
 CD 
 
 Eva Bartlett, asking her to help him find her, 
 and Eva gladly went to work to make a home 
 for Jennie, and wrote her views of the matter to 
 Reuben. It was then decided, that upon his 
 death, which was certain at no very distant time, 
 and might occur at any moment, that Jennie 
 should live with Mrs. Harlow, on the old place, 
 and take charge of hi-s mother during her life 
 time, if she would. In any case, half of his 
 estate was willed to her, that she might not 
 want. Yet all this time the poor girl had not 
 where to lay her head. 
 
 At last another chance among the great whirl 
 pool of bread-seekers drifted within her reach. 
 She answered an advertisement for a seamstress, 
 and was taken upon trust with scarcely a question 
 asked her. This was not from any Christ-like 
 goodness of heart in the people who employed 
 her. To them, a seamstress was a mere machine
 
 VIRTUE PROTECTED. 239 
 
 who came from somewhere in the back regions 
 of the city at seven o'clock in the morning, 
 sewed all day, and disappeared into the same 
 remote and shadowy distance after six at night. 
 Good, bad, or indifferent in morals, it made no 
 difference to them. If any of them had thought 
 about it at all, they would have decided that she 
 would naturally be bad. Somehow that seemed 
 to be most likely, yet if the fingers were deft, 
 and did their work well, all right. The soul 
 might be as black as ink, so long as none of the 
 color rubbed off on the work. 
 
 Jennie's new employer was Mrs. Colonel 
 Badger, a lady of unquestioned position in 
 society. Her only daughter was about to 
 marry a gentleman of great wealth, consider 
 ably older than herself. 
 
 "I don't love him one bit,." said the gay 
 creature, chatting to a young friend in the sew 
 ing room, while she waited for measures to be 
 taken and patterns adjusted. 
 
 "Then why do you marry him, Ida?" asked 
 her less wordly friend. 
 
 " Because he is so splendid and stylish, and all 
 the drls want him. And think of the diamonds
 
 240 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 I shall have. And we are going to Europe on a 
 bridal tour, and will stay there until we are tired 
 of it. And he is so fond of me!" 
 
 "Reasons enough! Why has he never mar 
 ried before? He is quite an old bachelor," said 
 her friend. 
 
 " He never loved before," was the triumphant 
 answer. " He has confessed all his sins to me. 
 and is going to join the church our church, 
 you know and live a new life. He's been a 
 pretty gay boy, I can tell you, but I will take 
 care of him now." 
 
 Amid such chatter as this, Jennie sat and 
 sewed, listened, and wondered if Heaven would 
 bless such an ill-assorted union as this. Appar- 
 antly, it did. 
 
 She earned her bread here. The bride-elect 
 was haughty and shrewish, and berated her 
 mother, the servants, and the seamstress. At 
 night, when Jennie went down the stairs, she 
 would feel numb with repressed misery, and the 
 long lonely walk to Mrs. Lannigan's for she 
 was again a lodger under that humble roof- 
 was beset with peril. The temptations some 
 times horrible and grotesque, sometimes sugared
 
 VIRTUE PROTECTED. 241 
 
 and engaging which come to young and beau 
 tiful women who go along the streets unpro 
 tected, followed her to the threshold of her poor 
 home. Once a spectral figure glided up to peer 
 into her face. 
 
 Jennie remembered her. It was the woman 
 who had watched her upon the night of her 
 arrival in the city. The tawdry, painted crea 
 ture who had flitted athwart her vision like a 
 warning, was dressed then in gorgeous silk, and 
 now she was in rags, her beauty and grace gone 
 with her diamonds to keep her from starving. 
 
 " I knew it," she chuckled. " He tired of 
 you, just as he did of me of them all. Oh,, 
 it's a bonny sight ha! ha! Look here! " She 
 held up two skeleton arms, and then, with a wild 
 scream, flitted away into the darkness. 
 
 One evening there came over her such a dread 
 ful loneliness, such a longing for human help 
 and sympathy, that she ventured to go and call 
 on Lucia Winne, to learn something of Eeuben,. 
 of Eva, and the rest. She bent her steps toward 
 Lucia's boarding place, and in a short time was 
 following a servant to her 'room. It was a 
 pretty place, filled with light and bloom, and 
 16
 
 242 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 Lucia was seated cosily at a table writing. She 
 turned as the girl announced a caller. 
 
 "Jennie!" she exclaimed; the name passed 
 her lips before she could stop it, and she imme 
 diately added, " How dared you come here ? 
 "What would my brother say?" 
 
 " I wanted to see you, Lucia, to let you know 
 I am living right now, and have been for a long 
 time. Can you never forget nor forgive?" 
 asked the poor girl, wildly. 
 
 " You should have thought of that before," 
 answered Lucia, in an icy tone. " You had the 
 same chance Eva and I had, Jennie, but you 
 willfully chose to do wrong, and you ought to 
 suffer. I can never associate with you again. I 
 cannot help you up without pulling myself 
 down." 
 
 "If you had suffered what I have," returned 
 Jennie "cold, hunger, shame, and scorn you 
 might think I was sufficiently punished, Lucia, 
 for the disgrace I brought upon those who loved 
 and trusted me. But, Lucia, my mother forgave 
 me with her last breath. I have never injured 
 you. Surely, you can forget my past." 
 
 " I cannot, Jennie, so do not ask it. If you
 
 VIRTUE PROTECTED. 243 
 
 are indeed penitent, I am glad, but your life 
 must prove it. Oh, Jennie! have you thought 
 what it is to die? " 
 
 " No," answered Jennie, wearily. " It takes 
 all my time to try to live, and live right. When 
 such great good luck as dying comes to me, my 
 troubles and necessities will be over." 
 
 " Repent while there is yet time," said Lucia. 
 " I know some good people who will remember 
 you in their prayers." 
 
 Jennie smiled drearily. " It might hurt the 
 purity of their souls to pray for me," she 
 replied. "Good bye, Lucia. There is a great 
 gulf between us. Be thankful you have not 
 crossed it." She held out her hand, but Lucia 
 did not see it, and so they parted, in this life, 
 forever! 
 
 She had several panics of fright while sewing 
 at the Badger's. It was part of her punishment 
 that her beauty and Ross Farnham's wealth and 
 position should have made her conspicuously 
 known, and she dreaded the entrance of any 
 friend who might by chance recognize her. 
 One day a vivacious young lady called, who 
 was a great friend of the bride-elect, and was
 
 244 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 at once taken into the room where Jennie and 
 the others were sewing, to inspect the bridal 
 finery. It happened that she was a distant rela 
 tive of Mr. Monroe, and a cordial hater of Mrs. 
 Monroe, as she was of all shams. She was a 
 shrewd, sensible Scotch girl, who had made a 
 nattering success with her pen, and was quite 
 the fashion in society. Agnes McDonald knew 
 the pale seamstress the moment she saw her, but 
 by no word nor look did she betray the knowl 
 edge. At a moment when they were left alone 
 together, for Agnes stayed to lunch, Jennie 
 threw down the work she was vainly trying to 
 finish, and, clasping her hands in passionate 
 entreaty, looked into the honest kindly face. 
 
 " Oh, Mis's McDonald, please do not say that 
 you ever saw me before, nor betray anything 
 about my past life. These people do not know 
 or care anything about me, but if they did know, 
 1 might be without a situation again; and I 
 must have bread!" 
 
 " Dinna ye fash yoursel," said Agnes McDon 
 ald, coolly. " If they never find out till they 
 learn it frae me, they '11 bide a weary while. 
 And it 's little they 're likely to ken at the last.
 
 VIRTUE PROTECTED. 245 
 
 And as for your sin we're all truly sinners, 
 more or less. Just ye put it behind ye till ye 're 
 asked for it at the Last Day! Dinna ye fash 
 about it any mair." 
 
 Homely words, but so comforting. Jennie 
 smiled into the honest, kindly face with her eyes 
 full of tears, and stitched on the rest of that day 
 with a lighter heart, for the few kind words that 
 had been given her. 
 
 Jennie's dark spectre of fate was again near- 
 ing her. It was strange that not once during 
 the w r eeks she worked there was the name of Ida 
 Badger's affianced husband spoken in her pres 
 ence. It was the merest chance, as his visits 
 were almost daily, but the rooms used for sewing 
 were in a remote part of the large house, and 
 the conversation carried on there was chiefly of 
 the wardrobe. If she had pictured him at all 
 in her mind, it was as an elderly man of rather 
 imposing appearance. The pet abbreviation by 
 which his lady-love mentioned him meant little 
 or nothing to her. 
 
 One evening as Jennie came down the stairs 
 into the spacious hall, on her way to the side 
 door, by which she always came and went, she
 
 246 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 found the upper housemaid hurriedly lighting 
 the hall lamp. The gas was turned off, or was 
 obstinate, and she was perplexed with it, while a 
 vigorous ring at the front -door was still unan 
 swered. " Would ye mind opening the door, 
 Miss?" she asked, regulating the flame in the 
 frosted glass globe. " It 's Miss Ida's gentle 
 man, and he don't like to be kept waiting." 
 
 Jennie opened the door, and stepped back to 
 admit the gentleman. As he entered, the soft 
 light fell upon his face, and she gave a stifled 
 cry. It was Ross Farnham! 
 
 Pie caught her arm fiercety, as he saw who it 
 was, and with white, set lips looked sternly into 
 her death-stricken face. 
 
 "What are you doing in this house?" he 
 asked, deepening the intensity of his strong grip 
 upon her arm, until it seemed as if the frail 
 bone must be crushed in his hand. " How dare 
 you come here?" he said, drawing her into the 
 vestibule beyond the curious eyes of the servant. 
 " Did you attempt to palm off any wretched 
 story upon her?" 
 
 Jennie looked into his handsome face. Oh, 
 how handsome it was, even when distorted by
 
 VIRTUE PROTECTED. 247 
 
 anger and scorn; but she met, without flinching, 
 the fierce gaze of his angry eyes, saying, in a 
 calm, passionless voice, " T am in this house as 
 a servant a seamstress a dependent. God 
 knows I would not haVe come here if I had 
 known I should meet you." 
 
 " Then stay away. Do you hear? Never come 
 here again. You cannot live under the same 
 roof with her, my pure, beautiful darHng. 
 Here is money more than you can earn 
 here. I would have given it to you before, 
 if you had let me know where to find you. 
 I will help you again if you need it, but 
 never come into this house again!" 
 
 He tried to press the roll of bills into her 
 hands, but as she drew back, released from his 
 hold, she folded the scant black shawl she wore 
 close about her, and passed away into the 
 darkness.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 NOTHING BUT LEAVES ! 
 
 " Dost know the olden story ? 
 
 It sounds so sweet, it sounds so sad, 
 Alas ! they, both of them, must perish, 
 For the too-much love they had." 
 
 ^ old, old, tumble-down house, the 
 windows of which had long been 
 nailed up, set round with lilacs, 
 that were in full bloom, filling the night air 
 with their fragrance. The tender hush of a star 
 lit sky, pure and peaceful as the smile of God, 
 bent over it, and within, a soul was going up 
 from its thraldom. 
 
 She lay upon her own little bed, prepared for 
 lier by Eva's loving hands, as soon as she 
 received poor Reuben's frantic letter, saying that 
 he had found her, and was bringing her home! 
 So preternaturally long she had lain there 
 
 wasted and shadowy, with that awful immobility 
 
 (248)
 
 NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 249 
 
 of feature battling with her last enemy, all 
 her beauty gone, and a gaunt, hollow despair in 
 her great eyes, Eoss Farnham should have seen 
 his work then. 
 
 To what pit she had sunk; from what depths 
 he had rescued her; what her strange or shame 
 ful experiences had been, if indeed he knew, 
 iic-rben never told. He had brought her to the 
 old farm-house, because she babbled of it inces 
 santly. Even now, she was murmuring snatches 
 of song, interspersed with shrill bursts of laugh 
 ter, and words of impassioned prayer. 
 
 " She has been this way ever since I found 
 her," he said, in a low, husky voice, wiping the 
 great drops of perspiration from his wasted face. 
 " She imagines she is home with the old folks 
 again, picking flowers in the field, or that she 's 
 going through some awful scenes in the city, 
 yonder; or or she's talking to him. Curse 
 him! I sometimes doubt that there is a God, 
 when I see such men as he live and* prosper." 
 
 "Don't Reuben! It will all be right and 
 clear as noonday to us, by and by. Poor Jennie! 
 It is nearly over. She cannot last through the 
 night. And we had planned so much for her! "
 
 250 AGAINST FATE. 
 
 "This is best," said Reuben, hoarsely. "1 
 can die contented when I know she is safe." 
 
 He burst into a violent fit of coughing, and 
 Eva approached the sick girl on tip-toe. But 
 there was no need of caution; she was too far 
 gone for earthly sounds to disturb her. 
 
 "Jennie," she said, stooping gently over the 
 dying girl, " do you know me? " 
 
 There was no answer. Jenny was surrounded 
 by the shadowy phantoms evoked from a past 
 that was fast leaving her forever. 
 
 "He said I would find her in the morning." 
 She repeated it over and over. " He said no 
 soul was ever lost! " 
 
 Reuben stooped over her, and looked into the 
 dull face. She seemed to know him; her eyes 
 moved ever so little, and she whispered a single 
 word " forgive." 
 
 For all answer, he clasped the cold hands in 
 his, and pressed his trembling lips upon them. 
 
 The night wore on. Tier breath was so cold, 
 so cold. She murmured from time to time, 
 "He said I would meet her in the morning !" 
 
 She was thinking of the minister, who had 
 prayed over her mother.
 
 NOTHING BUT LEAVES. 
 
 251 
 
 About midnight she spoke again. " I am 
 going to the city. Good bye, mother. How 
 dim the lights in the street have grown. How 
 cold it is. Say it again, Ross, that you love me. 
 Oh, how tired I am. Is it morning yet?" 
 
 Yes; it was morning!
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444
 
 2S_ 
 
 Ravne - 
 
 2679 Against fate 
 
 PS 
 2679 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000120516 o