Berlaps was leaning over his counter late in the afternoon of the
second day from that on which the person calling herself Lizzy Glenn
had applied for and obtained work, when a young man entered and asked
for some article of dress. While the tailor was still engaged in
waiting upon him, the young woman came in, carrying a small bundle in
her hand. Her veil was drawn over her face as she entered; but was
thrown partly aside as she retired to the back part of the store,
where she stood awaiting the leisure of the man from whom she had
obtained work. As she passed him, the customer turned and looked at her
earnestly for a moment or two, and then asked in a whisper--
"Who is that?"
"Only one of our sewing-girls," replied Berlaps, indifferently.
"What is her name?"
"I forget. She's a girl to whom we gave out work day before yesterday."
This caused the man to look at her more attentively. The young woman,
becoming conscious that she was an object of close scrutiny by a
stranger, turned partly away, so that her face could not be seen.
"There is something singularly familiar about her," mused the young
man as he left the store. "Who can she be? I have certainly seen her
before."
"Ah, good-afternoon, Perkins!" said a familiar voice, while a friendly
hand was laid upon his arm. "You seem to be in a browner mood than
usual!"
"I am a little thoughtful, or abstracted, just as you please," replied
the individual addressed.
"Are you, indeed? May I ask the reason?"
"The reason hardly seems to be a sufficient one--and, therefore, I will
not jeopardize your good opinion of me by mentioning it."
"Oh, very well! I am content to have my friends conceal from me their
weaknesses."
The two young men then walked on arm and arm for some distance. They
seemed to be walking more for the sake of a little conversation than
for anything else, for they went slowly, and after winding about among
the labyrinthine streets for ten or twenty minutes, took their way back
again.
"There she is again, as I live!" Perkins exclaimed, half pausing as the
young woman he had seen at the tailor's passed quickly by them on their
turning a corner.
"You've noticed her before, then?" remarked the friend, whose name was
Milford.
"I saw her a little while ago in a clothing-store; and her appearance
instantly arrested my attention. Do you know who she is?"
"I do not. But I'd give something to know. You saw her in a
clothing-store?"
"Yes. In the shop of that close-fisted Berlaps. She is one of his
seamstresses--a new one, by the way--to whom he has just given work. So
he informed me."
"Indeed! She must be in great extremity to work for his pay. It is only
the next remove, I am told, from actual starvation."
"But tell me what you know of her, Milford. She seems to have attracted
your notice, as well as mine."
"I know nothing of her whatever," replied the young man, "except that
I have met her five or six times during the last two weeks, upon the
Warren bridge, on her way to Charlestown. Something in her appearance
arrested my attention the first time I saw her. But I have never been
able to catch more than a glimpse of her face. Her veil is usually
drawn."
"Who can she visit in Charlestown?"
"No one, I have good reason to think."
"Why so?"
"I had once the curiosity to follow her as far as I deemed it prudent
and courteous. She kept on entirely through the town--at least through
the thickly settled portion of it. Her step was too quick for the step
of one who was merely going to pay a friendly visit."
"You have had, if I understand you, at least a glimpse of her
countenance?"
"Yes. Once, in passing her, her veil was half drawn aside, as if to get
a freer draught of air."
"And her face?"
"Was thin and pale."
"And beautiful?"
"So I should call it. Not pretty--not a mere doll's face--but
intellectually beautiful; yet full of softness. In fact, the face of a
woman with a mind and heart. But sorrow has touched her--and pain. And,
above all, the marks of crushed affection were too plainly visible upon
her young countenance. All this could be seen at the single glance I
obtained, before her veil was drawn hurriedly down."
"Strange that she should seek so to hide her face from every eye. Can
it be that she is some one we have known, who has fallen so low?"
"No, I think not," replied Milford. "I am certain that I have never
seen her before. Her face is a strange one to me. At least the glance I
had revealed no familiar feature."
"Well, I, for one, am resolved to know more about her," remarked
Perkins, as the two friends paused before separating. "Since she has
awakened so sudden, and yet so strong an interest in my mind, I should
feel that I was not doing right if I made no effort to learn something
of her true position in our city, where, I am much inclined to think,
she is a stranger."
The young men, after a few more words, separated, Perkins getting into
an "hourly" and going over to Charlestown to see a man on some business
who could not be at his house until late in the day. The transaction of
this business took more time than he had expected, and it was nearly an
hour after nightfall before he returned to Boston. After passing the
"draw," as he crossed the old bridge, he perceived by the light of a
lamp, some distance ahead, a female figure hurrying on with rapid steps.
"It's the strange girl I saw at Berlaps', as I live!" he mentally
ejaculated, quickening his pace. "I must see where she hides herself
away."
The night was very dark, and the form of the stranger, as she hurried
forward, was soon buried in obscurity. In a little while, she emerged
into the little circle of light that diffused itself around the lamp
that stood at the termination of the bridge, and in the next moment was
again invisible. Perkins now pressed forward, and was soon clear of the
bridge, and moving along the dark, lonely avenue that led up to the
more busy part of the city. He had advanced here but a few paces, when
a faint scream caused him to bound onward at full speed. In a moment
after, he came to the corner of a narrow, dark street, down which he
perceived two forms hurrying; one, a female, evidently struggling
against the superior force of the other.
His warning cry, and the sound of his rapidly advancing footsteps,
caused the man to relax his hold, when the female figure glided away
with wind-like fleetness. The man hesitated an instant; but, before
Perkins reached the spot where he stood, ran off in an opposite
direction to that taken by the woman.
Here was an adventure calculated to give to the mind of Perkins a new
and keener interest in the young seamstress. He paused but a moment,
and then ran at the height of his speed in the direction the female
form, which he had good reason to believe was hers, had taken. But she
was nowhere to be seen. Either she had sought a shelter in one of the
houses, or had hurried forward with a fleetness that carried her far
beyond his reach.
Thoughtful and uneasy in mind, he could hardly tell why, he sought his
lodgings; and, retiring at once to his chamber, seated himself by a
table upon which were books and papers, and soon became lost in sad
memories of the past that strongly linked themselves, why he could not
tell, for they had no visible connection with the present. For a long
time he sat in this abstract mood, his hand shading his face from the
light. At last he arose slowly and went to a drawer, from which he
took a small morocco case, and, returning with it to the table, seated
himself again near the lamp. He opened the case, and let the light
fall strongly upon the miniature of a most beautiful female. Her light
brown hair, that fell in rich and glossy ringlets to her neck, relieved
tastefully her broad white forehead, and the gentle roundness of her
pure cheeks, that were just tinged with the flush of health and beauty.
But these took not away from the instant attraction of her dark hazel
eyes, that beamed tenderly upon the gazer's face. Perkins bent for
many minutes over this sweet image; then pressing it to his lips, he
murmured, as he leaned back, and lifted his eyes to the ceiling:--
"Where, where in the spirit-land dost thou dwell, dear angel? In what
dark and undiscovered cave of the ocean rests in dreamless sleep thy
beautiful but unconscious body? Snatched from me in the bloom of youth,
when fresh flowers blossomed in thy young heart to bless me with
their fragrance, how hast thou left me in loneliness and desolation
of spirit! And yet thou seemest near to me, and, of late, nearer and
dearer than ever. Oh, that I could hear thy real voice, even if spoken
to the ear of my spirit, and see once more thy real face, were it only
a spiritual presence!"
The young man then fell into a dreamy state of mind, in which we will
leave him for the present.