Rensselaer Republican, Volume 17, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 April 1885 — JUST A WILLFUL CIRL. [ARTICLE]

JUST A WILLFUL CIRL.

“It is really too shabby; I ought not to wear it, had I? I ought not to go.” “Dear, you look so pretty and so dainty in it, what can you say? I’m sorry, but ” “Oh, well, if you like it; perhaps because I have worn it so many times; the lace is mended in so many places; it’s really such an old friend, Esther, that I am tired of it and must get a new one somewhere.” “Tessy, Tessy. I can’t bear to hear you talk like that, not even in jest.” The pale, sweet face of the older sister* had grown paler stilt There was a pained look in the soft eyes, and her breath came quick. “If you want a new dress there is some money, some silver laid away in the box there—but we can get along—and you must use it” She stopped; it seemed that the crowding tears would not let her go further. Her voice gave out. “Esther”—and the pretty young girl took that pale, quivering face in her two slim bauds—you thought I was in earnest? You thought I could take that money ? You eould think so badly as that of me? No, I will never joke again. I will always be in dead earnest I have noticed before now that I get into a great deal of trouble because of my foolish habit of joking. And now—now kiss me.” Was not that sad-faced, gentle lady, with the tears not quite vanished from her own eyes, proud to touch with a soft caress, the round cheek turned so pretty towards her ? “Youknowyour pretty way of joking makes one of my greatest pleasures,” she answered, and I am a foolish old woman, but if you want the dress ” “Willst du mir nicht einen kuss geben?” called a clear voice from the open window. Both women turned. A pleasant face—blonde, with a blonde beard, and pleasant blue eyes smiling from under thick waves of curling, fair hair —was peering at them. “Oh, Joseph, is it you?” two voices spoke together. This smiling apparition, Joseph Miller, held out a dewy knot of flowers—all green leaves, white buds and tiny tendrils. Their exquisite fragrance filled the room. “It is my contribution,” he said, flushing behind the curtain that he pushed back with one hand. “I got them as I came along, at Floyd’s.” “Ah, ah! how beautiful! How can we tback you, Joseph? Oh, why was I not born a flower—just a white rose like this? Then I should hot have to trouble about a new dress. Now, Miss Esther Payne!” The blue eyes of the young man had been from the first fixed on this slim, fair, flower-bud of a girl, who was hovering over his gift in an ecstacy of delight. The eyes flashed now with pleasure, as she took a spray of buds from the bunch and turned to her sister. “You may put these right there, if you please—there in that bunch of curls over my forehead, so; that improves the matter.” “She has been fretting about her dressf” explained Miss Payne to the young man in the window. “Her^ress! Why, what is the matter with it?* he asked, opening his eyes wide. “It is old, and it is old fashioned, and “it is ugly," ejaculated Tessy, with emphasis. ' ! “Why, I was just thinking how pretty it is, and I wondered if you had made it new for the occasion," remarked that stupid young man. “All that green color with the white, just like an apple and a bud; I thought you must be a flower bud yourself unfolded." Miss Payne smiled, but Therese made a dainty face. “The lace is mended fell over, but then it’s real lace—real Mechlin lat e,” she observed, bewildering her masculine admirer with grave technicalities. Happily be only saw the face, the brown hair ruffling on the forehead, the lovely eyes . that laughed at him, the low, sweet voice that patronized him. “Oh, Blume, weisse Blume!" he repeated rapturously. “Please don’t talk in that awkward German,” cried out "Tessy, pettishly. “It only makes me think of my school lessons, ’ and I can't understand it, either. How can I tell whether you are laughing at me or paying me a oompl ment?" The young man laughed. “Oh, Blume! I was paying you a compliment—a just tribute.” “And the other—when you first -oam© VWIIIV

Joseph blushed and fidgeted. “That—oh, that was just nonsense; I 1 must ask. you to pardon it,” he stammered. • j ' A ' ' The grave, soft eyes of Miss Payne looked at him as if she would say she had no fear he would say to them aught that would be displeasing. She glanced at his dress and then said, doubtfully: • • “Were you going to the park—were you on your way ?” ;'L „ Joseph shrugged his smiling. • “I shall go presently. But I shall wait till the brass band and speechmaking are over. I don’t wish to be deafened and disgusted at the same time.” Both of the women laughed at his unmistakable look of distaste. Therese nodded at him from over her shoulder, her little white hat, with its blue bells and snow-drops, making a shadow for her eyes to shine out of into his. “Oh, querulous musician! I wonder that a young man who has such an ear for discord can’t make better music of his own, especially when he is the owner of, besides the cat, a genuine Paganini violin. There, I have got some of the Southern wood on me, and if they smell me ip advance they will think a whole village Sunday school is coming. Good-bye, good-bye.” The two young people went away in opposite directions, and Miss Payne, left alone, sat for a long time in tho little room in the lowering sunshine, silent, but quite sad; at’ least her smile was stronger than her tears, and held its place on her placid mouth. For it was Tessy she was thinking of, the pretty, young, brown-haired maiden, between whom and utter loneliness and helplessness in a hard world only her own frail life—and Joseph. For Joseph loved the charming, home-sweet Tessy; Esther was sure of that. But Tessy? Ah! she was the “weisse Blume” truly the wh'ite flower about which-the swan might circle, singing its plaintive song till it should die. *‘lwish, oh, I wish”—and Esther clapped her hands together with nervous force—“l wish Tessy could love fiiin. I could die happy then.” The large tears rose and fell. “Surely, a girl's heart is not so hard to win—if one knows the way.” , And the trouble was that Joseph did not “know the way.” He was good, he was gentle and kind: he would flush and stammer when the merry little maid asked him but to do something for her; then he would rush and stumble over his own feet a dozen times in the effort to obey her, and Tessy would laugh at him. “Willst du mir nicht einen kuss geben?” “I think,” said Esther to herself, *T think if Joseph would say that to her some day in earnest and claim the kiss and take it as his right, he might win my little Therese.” But just here the trouble was. Joseph was afraid. His great love for the poor young girl, the “white flower” of his squg made him a cdward ; butTt wase noble cowardice, and might go far to help him some day to high, heroic deeds. It was late when Tessy returned. Miss Payne had been sitting gloomily alone in the room, where shaded lamplight and flooding moonlight, pour** ing through open window and door, made the place a bower of golden dusk. —Tossing aside her hat and little white shawl, Tessy flung herself on the floor at her sister’s feet. Esther placed her loving hand on the soft, brown, curling locks veiling the bright head. “Did you have a happy day, my Tessy?” “Oh, yes,” was the answer, given with magnificent indifference." “And—was Joseph there?” “Jfisef —you mean old Josef, the bandmaster—of course he was there. How could there be a brass band without Josef to lead it ?” replied again Miss Tessy. Miss Esther Payne touched with a finger of gentle reproach the naughty lips of the naughty speaker. “Do you think I should inquire after such a person as that?” “Oh, then you ment your, friend Joseph,—the one who makes quotations in German to show that he is learned. Yes, certainly, he was there, but I did not see very much of him.” “But why?” And now Miss Payne’s face grew grave, her voice fell. “But why, my Tessy? Surely—” “Oh, I don’t know. ” Tessy stretched up two slender white hands, clasping them indolently over her head. “ l r ou see, Esther, when he first made his appearance on the scene, we had left the grounds. Most of our girls were in the big pavilion getting our tea at the tables; and that horrid Nelly March* mont was there, and Joseph stopped at her table and stayed there a long time.” “Well, what then ?” Tessy had paused in her recital, and was lying half-kneel-ing. her soft, flushed- cheek resting on her sister’s arm. She smiled a little gravely when Esther spoke. “What then? Oh, nothing but this: first, I suppose I should not have minded it, but I got a fateful fancy that it was only because of her dress tliat he lingered by her; and that he was ashamed to be seen with me.” “Tessy!” “Oh, I know it w,as mean of me; but she was beautifully dressed. She is dark, you know—dark; and she was all in dark tissue, with broad bands of gold on her arms and waist and in her hair. It was very becoming to her, and I suppose Joseph paid her compliments in German." ' * " “Child"—and Miss Payne pinched .with a smile the little pearl-pink ear. “Well, at all events, lie couldn’t call her his weisse biume (his white flower) could he?” quoth Miss Thdtese, triumphantly. She sat up and rested her chin on her arm to begin again. “And so, when at last he began to ■ make his way across, meaning to speak to me, I was engaged to dance with Harry Wistar. I really hadn't time to waste on Joseph. They—the other Josef was playing pay favorite music.” The witch stopped and began to hum one of Gounod’s delicious airs. “And I really didn’t see Kim.” “Oh, Tessy! How could you do so ? And Jeephia so -kind,” There were tears readv to break through the tremble of Esther's pained voice.

“Kind?” broke in Misti Tessy, indig“pantly. “I don’t knbW what yotir ideas are, Jout I call it far from kind to snub me so, and, after all, I don’t think he would have minded it so much—s|o very much—but a slight shower came up while we were dancing, and we all rushed back to the pavilion.” Here Miss Tessy paused again. A dimpling smile stole into her round, rosy cheek. , “There whs a little spot of marshy ground on the path, and the rain had made it worse. So, when we came to that—you see, I had on my light shoes —Harry threw down his coat, and nothing would do but I must walk over it. And when I looked up, just as we entered the pavilion, what an expression there was on Joseph’s face! Idq beNeve he was swearing to himself—in German.” Esther was silent, with a pained fear at her heart. What could she say ? How could she chide this beautiful creature, who was so dear, so winsome, so worthy of love ? How could she help and not hurt? “Well,” exclaimed Theresa, authoritatively, growing tired of the silence. “My dear,” said Esther, timidly, “don’t you think with me that Mr. Wistar’s attention was a little out of place—that it was conspicuous?” Miss Tessy vouchsafed no reply to this. Don’t you think, dear, you might have reached the pavilion safely, as the others did, simply by walking on the bare ground ?” “I am tired and sleepy; I must go to bed,” said Tessy, suddenly getting up. Then she glanced at Esther’s face. “Smile!” she commanded. “Do you think I am going to say good night to such eyes as those ? Smile at once !*’ The grieved look melted swiftly into tears. With loving arms twined around each other’s neck, the two sister’s cried—silently. But their goodnight kiss was the sweeter for those tears. In the quiet days that followed—perhaps because they were living nearer together, more in sympathy with each other—these two sisters, Esther n'oticed that Tessy was more than usually silent, that under her joyous laugh shone*'the glimmer of crowding tears. Bui Tessy observed that Esther grew more thin and wan, that her strength seemed to be consumed as if by some eating fire. One evening Esther in her chair drew Tessy to her. The young girl came and knelt by her side in the old familiar way, the pretty bronze-brown lovelocks ruffling over—her lap, the white arms softly upthrown. “Dear,” said the elder sister, in alow voice, “you never sing for me now.” “No,” answered Tessy, slowly; “it must be —I don’t know—unless:: —I don’t think of it.” “You did not wait once to think of it, Tessy; you sang because you must.” “Yes; that does make a difference—to feel the music in one. When a bird is being cooked and eaten, I suppose it does not feel like singing." “What in the world do you mean, child?” “Mean? Nothing—l never mean anything; that’s why I get into so much trouble.” The girl spoke in a mocking way, but a moment after she spoke more seriously: “Do you know, Esther, I was reading, this morning,the old story of the knightly lover, who had a beautiful bird that his lady coveted. He was very poor, but he would not sell his bird But, one fine day, the princes sent a message that she was coming to dine with him, and, as he had nothing in his larder fit for so dainty a lady, he bade his cook kill the bird and serve it.” ' Here Tessy paused for a moment, for a sound as of tears was in her voice. She put her hand over her eyes. “It is such a tender story, Esther, I can’t tell it as it ought to be told; but the young knight must have sat and looked at her—can’t you fancy it?— while she sat at his table and ate his frugal dinner—and then—she said she would love liim—be his own true princess—if he would give her his bird.” “Well,” said Esther, smiling, “the Princess did get the bird in one way, if not in another. And I wonder if the young knight* quite loved her when he saw her eating it!” “Oh, you hard-hearted voman,” cried Tessy. “But I thought of that, too.” Then rising, with a quick change of manner, she said: “I wonder if Joseph would contribute his beleved violin to make a fire for me, if I were freezing?” Esther began to understand. The next day Miss Payne was not so well. She was lying on the sofa in the little parlor, when Tessy came in and knelt by her, and took her two hands. The girl had a strange, sad feeling, as if she were lost in a wood, with no one to show her the way out. “I don’t know what to do for you,” she sobbed. “You are getting worse, Esther, what is it? Shall I send for some one? O, why does not Joseph She stopped suddenly, but Esther heard, and the next day a message found its way to that young man, who answered in person. He walked straight up to Esther’s chair when he came in. “I did not know you were ill,” he said, and oh. the sepse of comfort, of rest, th it the invalid felt when she beard his voice—when she looked into his clear eyes. “Is it anything serious ? I. am sorry.” Esther smiled gently, but he grew grave with a startled fear when he saw the change in her. “It is not painful—only a little troublesome, and I should not mind it so much, but Tessy frets over me." Joseph looked lor the first time at Tessy, who was sitting apart bj a window. She barely glanced up as she spoke, but there was a bright red flush in her cheek. And her eyes—how soft and appealing they were as they looked at him so briefly. Perhaps he had been unnecessarily harsh with her; she was so young—just a slip of a girl, a white flower unfolding. Presently Tessy slipped from the room. “Come closer, Joseph," began Miss Payne, nervously clasping and unclasping her bands; “I have but a moment and I wish to say to you—pe/haps I am meddling—l am sick and have many fancies—but, Joseph, if'l were a young

man, loving a shy, half-frightened girl, I should say to myself this truth: ‘A faintheart never won a fair lady.’ ” Joseph looked at her; bis face turned red and then white, and then- he burst out into a curious, hysterical laugh. “God bless yon, Miss Payne. I believe you are the best woman in the world,” he said earnestly. He kissed her hand. How cold it was, how wan, and sad, and tired she looked; but not a meddler, no. 1 When Joseph took his leave, as he walked along the hall he heard behind a door half open the notes of a piano and a low voice singing—Tessy’s voice. Joseph hesitated a moment, then, picking up courage, repeating to himself, with a quiet little smile, the words: “Faint heart never won fair lady,” he dashed the door open and went in. Tessy was there alone, playing and singing softly to herself. She jumped up when she saw who her visitor was “Stay," he said quickly. “I did not come to disturb you; I came to listen. ” Tessy stopped and stood silent, with bent face. ; ./ ■ ' - ■ ' i: “Won’t you sing me one song?” he pleaded. But Tessy turned away and began to gather up her scattered music sheets. “I can’t sing in German,” she answered coldly. “My songs are all simple ones. They are only English songs, not worth listening to.” He looked at her, hesitated once more for the last time, then took a step forward “Why do you treat me in this cold way, Tessy ?” he burst out. “Have l offended you in any way ? What have I done?”_ ■ . ■ ■ .. “You? No; it is nothing, only—only—” And then it was all over, and Tessy was sobbing her grief and joy and resentment all out together on Joseph’s shoulder. He drew ter thus close for a little space, and then he drew her out at arm’s length away from him. “Willst du mir nichV einen kuss geben?” he Said, laughing; and then Tessy lifted her fair flower face, and Joseph took his kiss. “Liebchen,” he whispered tenderly; and oh, the beauty of that old sweet German word as Joseph spoke it! “Liebchen, shall we tell Esther now?” Then he looked at her more closely. “And you have got on the beloved white dress. You must always wear it, O weisse blume.” Tessy laughed. “Come to Esther now,” she said. But alas! Esther was asleep. Asleep, and her darling was safe.— New Orleans Picayune.