LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2259, 29 June 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

ONLY A FACTOBY GIKL. BY BERNARD HERBERT. ‘ Here she comes! Just look at her I you’d think she was Mrs Horace Archer already and queen of Millvillp!’ * Mrs Horace Archer ! Ha, ha I_ Not her; ho may play with fire, but he’s wise enough not to burn his fingers !’ ‘ Hush ? she is here. Don’t look at her, don’t speak to her, girls !’ The object of the above venomous remarks came slowly up the sunny, slushy road, her pale face bant upon her breast, over which a thread-bare shawl was tightly drawn. She was very pretty, this factory-girl, Della Gray, with her deep, dark, earnest eyes. She came straight up the road, her poorlyshod Let keeping time to the deafening clang of the noon-bell which called the employes of Archer and Sons’ mill back from their hurried dinners. As the girl’s foot touched the lowest stey npon which her enemies were congregated, like a flock of ill-omened birds, she raided her oyeu, and as quickly lowered them 'with a slight flush for those cold, stony glances stung her sensitive soul to the qulok. On, up the well-worn, familiar stairs she wont, cast her shawl and hat aside and took her accnstomed place at her loom. Crash, bang, olatter. Tho afternoon’s work had begun in earnest ■and Delia was soon lost to her surroundings, lost to everything until a hand touched her aim. She glanced up and repressed a shudder as her eyes rested upon the bold, handsome face of Jim Barns, one of tho mill-hands. ‘Will yon go walking with me after sapper, Delia V he asked. The troubled look deepened npon the girl’s sweet face. • Please don't ask me, Jim,’ Delia replied ; ' Nettie is sick and I mast stay with her.’ Jim Barns langhed viciously. ‘ Yes, and be in, in case your friend Horace Archer calls to see you,’ he said. •Oh, 1 understand, Delia, but mark my words, you’ll rue the day that that young snob ever crossed your path. What are yon that he should pay you attention ? Don’t be such a fool, for let me tell yon here that Horace Archer is no fool. Ho isn’t going to ask the likes of yon, a factory girl, to live with his proud mother and sisters 1 Take my advice and send him about his business, if yon have any respect for yourself.’ Two crimson spots burned in Delia’s pale cheeks and hot words struggled to her lips for utterance, only to be drowned by the crash of the machinery, and besides, it would have bsen of no use to speak, for Burns had gone back to his post. When six o’clock came that evening, Delia lingered behind her departing mates npon some pretence of oiling her loom; she felt she was not strong enough to undergo another encounter with Jim Burns, and by delaying she hoped he would go home without her. At last she could tarry no longer, and putting on her hat and shawl, she glided down the dark and silent staircase, and was about to hnrry out into the outside gloom when the figure of a young man came out of the office and joined her. * May I see yon home, Miss Gray ? ‘ said a respectful voice. Della’s heart 'quickened Its beating ; she knew without looking np that it was Horace Archer, the junior partner of the wealthy firm, and the man she so hopelessly loved. ‘ As you please,’ she murmured.

Upon reaching the hnmble home whioh sheltered her little Invalid sister and herself, Balia said good night abruptly and bounded Into the house. Nettie was sitting uo in bed, radiant with delight over a splendid wax doll and a box of sweetmeats. ‘ Why, Nettie,’exclaimed Delia, ‘where did you get all this.’ * Guess I ’ * Oh, I cannot.’ ‘ Well, then,’laughed Nettie, ‘ Mr Horace Archer called here this afternoon, and the beantifal lady who came with him brought mo this these! ’ ‘ Who was the lady, Nettie ? ’ * His wife ! ’ Tho room was in semi-gloom, and Nettie did not see the awful change whioh swept over that dear sister’s face. His wife ! And oh, heaven, how she hod loved him, all these months ! What a night it was 'which poor Delia passed, and how unfit she was to go to work on the morrow I But she went, and this day no one molested her—not even Jim Barns. But as she went home that night, Horace Archer joined her again, and begged leave to bo her escort. Her blood boiled at tho insult and she was scarcely able to falter : * I can go home alone, Mr Archer.’ Perhaps he did not hear her ; at all events they were just at the loneliest part of tho road when he tnrned to her and said in a voice that trembled with emotion ; ‘ Mias Gray—Da ia—how yon repel me 1 Osn it be that you have not guessed mv secret ? ’ She tnrned a pair of eyes flashing with indignation npon him. ‘ I faii to understand you,’ she replied. * Delia, I love you ! * For on instant she was petrified with anger, and stood still. ‘ How dare you insult me ! ’ she breathed. * Insult you. Delia, why I would kill the man who dared offer yon an insult ! ’ ‘ Then how can you talk to me of love, when yon—What would your wife say } ’ ‘ My wife ! ’ He started back bewildered at first, though almost instantly the absurdity of the situation struck him with such force that bo buret into a peal of ringing laughter. ‘Who told you I was married?’ he cried. * My sister, Nettie.’ ‘ How did the child know that!’ ‘ She said yonr wife caliod with you yesterday afternoon and brought her —— ’ ‘ That was my brother’s wife. Nettie is blessed with somewhat of a powerful imagination. ‘ So, Delia, ’ and he took her willing bands in bis, ‘ you see I have no wife, and never shall have one unless—unless you consent to be the one ’ But Delia did not say yes that night; she icarcely knew what to say, in fact she did uot realise her good fortune until the clergy, man pronounced the sacred words above her, and she felt her husband's kixs npon her lips. Then she was whirled away to the great house on the hill with little Nettie—a very fairy in gossamer and ribbons—and listened to the congratulations of tho stately people who wished her every happiness. And thus she ceased to be only a factory girl and became indeed Mrs Horace Archer, the queen of Millville, as her enemies sneeringly preliotf d.