LIZZY GLENN AROUSES THE INTEREST OF A STRANGER.
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 vail 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 paused 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."
"O, 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 any thing 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
vail 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 vail 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 had 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 vail 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 oyer 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.