The Blind Spinner.

Waikato Times, Volume X, Issue 697, 2 December 1876, Page 5 (Supplement)

The Blind Spinner.

It was the old story Their father hail been a thnf'less, extravagant man He had lived up to his income, — a little over it —a great deal over it, and then came the end — debt, disgrace, ruin, vain remorse, and before long, three fatherless ones — girh reared i» a foolish luxury, now left to face all the trials of grinding poverty The mother had died many years back — of a broken heart, people said, for the worst error* of the father were mercifully veiled from the children's eye*, and to them hv wa< always ' poor papa,' who kis-ed them as he hy dying, and then turned his face to the wall and wept for the wasted lite he could never now expiate — wept tor the helpless children, rendered homeless by h\a own grievous fault. I his happened a lung time ago, or it seemed so to thorn— for sorrow makes tune M-eni Ion,; to us aalandl — and now came to thi ! ' lim' was furnished lodgings in an inihuliMnible suburb of London— thr great «ra into which so ninny troubled hearts piunge, to hide from the eyes of those who have kujwn them in brighter day We must now sketch these three sisters, in wh'iii we would tain hope to i i tares our ii-.ider Mesiie firit ; sh.> wi-» the eldest, n<>w jist eisjht"! n ; till and si n ler, dark "tuir-d. dirk eyed, and grave beyond h?" ) (MI S I i fic-u Ki'i^—ii'dKilnj was blind ft w ,i i. p.-.' t.es f sum o «e<* tlie I oiai ol lie two girl* to this ufliicLc.l w ' They ate my rwo eyes.' she would say wnh <hat Mvet sm le often seen on the hee i,t the blind— a smile that seems to hold all the light the sightless eyes lick. She had an lntmse nature, tins poor, blind child ; a nature that suffered more than others in p*in and rejoiced with more exceeding joy in gladness. She was now seventeen ; and Alice, the wilful, naughty d irling of the other two, was two years younger. Alien was a beauty, and bewitched you with her saucy, violet eyes, and rippling chestnut hair and gleamy pearly teeth. They were very friendless, those three sisters. For one thing, the father had not been » man to make friends, or, if he di I make them, lost them again with remarkable promptitude ; and the few had offered help in somewhat an offensive fashion. So the girls came to London and took up their abode at Mrs, Busby's furnished lodgings, 17 Paradise place The stairs were steep, and Katie often pat her hand to her side after mounting them; the roims were smill. and Bossies room, up at the top of the house, had a •lice cnt off at one corner, and a window ■o low that it gave anything but a satisfactory light to dress your hair by— but then, was there not a mirror in the parlor, in which you could take a glitnpse of younelf, and if it did not depict you with a swelled face, and one eye up and the other down, why, you learn to nuke allowances for these peculiarities, and to knoir whether your bonnet was straight in ipite of them; so, take it all in all, il w» not a bad sort of a mirror. Bessie was the clever one of the family, so far as accomplishments went. She hoped, brave heart, to make * something comfortable' by her musical powers, for •he had been told that London was just the place to get on in ; but for all that the sisters had been nearly sir months in Paradise place, and yet only now had Bessie got her first pupil ! ' I've got pupil on the brain, my dears, said Alice, her pretty eyes sparkling with merriment, as she looked at Bessia gravely pouring out the tea. ' Oh, it's too delightful, Boss, my darling ! Sure and its proud I am of you this day !' ' And after all the pupil represents five shillings a week ; but then it is a baginn . ing. you see, and will pay half the rent.' The cold weather was going now, and Kttie and Alice were glad of that, for it would be less trying for Bs3S, you see, going in and out, when that crowd of pupils they so confiientially expected should become a reality. So the snow melted and the little town sparrows in their sooty jacket* chirped and twittered as merrily as any country bird could possibly do ; and Katie sat in the sunshine at Mrs. Busby 1 * front parlor window, and thought it very pleastnr to listen to a street piano playing ' II Booio. How often Katie thought of her dead father ! Naturally she from her affliction had known loastof his wrong doings ; and tenderly she loved hin memory, calling to mind the feeling of his hand upon her head as he lay helpless upon his bed of oain. while creditors, like birds of prcj, hovered about the house that ought to be hushed and silent. ' The sun shin Ji warm and bright ; the music out there sounds cheerful to me ; and poor papa lias in the grave !' Thus ran the thoughts of this gentle, loving heart. As time went on, though the crowd of pupils so confidentially anticipated by Alice and Kate, did not make their appearanc*, three or four more were added to the original one, and things seemed to go on passably, when Bessie took a severe cold— s^ severe that the others (supported by the opinion of Mrs. Busby) would not let her leave the house. Then an event happened. A visitor came to 17 Paradise place— a young man in a velveteen coat, and a soft, wide, felt hat, that shid#d an honest, manly young face, with gray eyes and a silky brown beard. This was Phil Lushington. a struggling artist, striving bard to make that * something comfortable' of which mention has been made before. Phil taught drawing at a school where Bessie, too, had some pupils. The young fellow came in somewhat timidly to that dingy parlor in which Mrs. Busby's soul delighted, and Mary Anne, the maid of-all-work (who to judge from the state of her hands, cleaned boots all day Jong without ever leaving off) showed hiii' in, herself in such a state of excite, ment that her cap fell off in the passage ; but then, »" ncr ca P was as oftett in tho passago as P° nef nead » tulfc was n0 novelty. JS'ow 1 may as well MY. °™° f ° r «»• at this state of my tale, thai the !; e «« °° yiUtans iv this story, and that till* Lushington was an honest, chivalrous youug fellow, who treated these three solitary maidens now and ever after, with tho reverence all truo women should command from all true men, and wa« as fastidiously respectful to them as though a Bclgravian

ehaperone of the right description bad Icpt watch and ward over thetu, and Paradise place had beenGrosr*norSqmre With chivalrous, tender grace, Pin Lushington greoted the three sisiers, ahe stood at the door ol their^dingy parlor hat in hand, his bonnie brown curK clustering about his forehead, and hi' honest eyes resting on Bessie's face. Yos ; b«* was an individual in ' whom there wa no guile,' was this young artist of mine. *nd, like the sunflower. gaz?d openly at the sun that had begun to shine with such bright beams upon his life. It was rather hard for Bessie though as with a pretty bashfulne3B she presented her visitor to her two sisters 1 1 know I ought to have called earlier in the day,' said Phil, still drinking in the sight of Bessie's face, ' but I haven 1 ) had a moment to spare since ten o'clock this mornim,. I was sure you must be ill. as I did not see you at Beech House for five whole days, so I asked Miss Minerva Bycroft, and she told me you had a hard cold.' Phil bad not thought before he came tint he should feel as it his ad veut needed so many apologies and explanations, bul somehow this all came upon him now; and' Alice perceiving thatß'Ssi.' was rvidently not capable of much fluencyof conversation rushed bravely to the rescue. 4 And now you have found us all sitting in the dusk ! We do that, you must know, to save the gas. Of course it would sound very pretty to say we lore the a learning, and all that snrt ot thing; bul the gas is the real reason ' Bessie looked imploringly to her sister, •is if to stem this torrent of domestic con fidences ; but their visitor seemed wonderfully set at ease by these maiter of-facr remarks on the part of the down right Vlico.and soon they were chatting together Presently Phil told them that he, and his mother lived quiet close to Paradise place, and ' some day might bring Mrs. Lushing ton to see them.' As Phil said this, Bessie's hand dropped a little ; but she said demurely, at it was her wont to speak, that they would be ' glad to see Mrs Lushington.' • I'm very glad you came— very glad indeed,' raid Alice, chiming' in again. ' Wo knew about you before — Katie and , I mean — and about your bringing Bess homo under your umbrella when it rained and we were out ; but we thought — at least I thought— from the way Bess then spoke, that you were quiet an old man — a .nan, with long, white hair, and who stooped very much, youjknow, and carried a bi? portfolio. ' ' I'm sorry I have disappointed your expectations,' said their visitor, with ju»t one sly loving glance at Bessie, now rosyrod ; and then he quickly changed the subject, for he could not bear to see tb.9 sweet serenity of that fair face disturbed. 1 Were you reading aloud whon I came in ?' he said, turning again to chatter- box Alice. ' Oh, no ! we were listening to Katie's yarns. You must know she tells us stories better than in any books— and we get so interested : and then she breaks off at the nicest bit, when we are dying to know what comes neifc !' lie looked more earnestly than he had yet done at the quiet pale girU>£j* e8S ' 0 ' 3 side ; Me noted the little, thin, nervous hands, the fragile figure, the tremulous, sensitive mouth ; and oh, saddest of all, the groat, blue, sightless eyes I • 1 should like to hear some of those stones,' said Phil. 1 Well, so you shall, some day, when you come to see us again. Shan't he, Katie dear ?' But Katie would not promise Soon after this Phil to'al^his leave, and Alice stooi at the window to watch him down the street. • So that's the drawing-master at Beech House Academy ! that's the old, old man, who brought you homo that rainy day ! Oh, Bessie !' she cried, and then she threw herself upon Mrs. Busby's slippery horsehair sofa, and it would hare done your heart good to hear her ringing laughter. But Katie put her arms round her sister's nock and kissed her tenderly. ' Bess,' she said, ' What a nice voice he has. I hope he'll come again.' Did Bessie hope so too, I wonder ? Be this as it may, Katie wm not disappointed. He did come again — not one, but many times ; indeed ho got into a sort of habit of looking upon the sisters, ' between the lights ;' and thus it came about that at ! last he heard some of those wonderful • yarns ' the blind girl was wont to spin, for the gentle narrator got accustomed to his presence, and forgot all shyness in the new delight of a fresh and appreciative addition to her audience ; and Phil liked the 1 yarns,' and at last suggested to Besgio (on the occasion of another showery evening rendering his escort a necessity) that one of these stories should be written out, and sent to the editor of ajcertain magazine. 4 Do you really think they would take it ?' cried Alice, radiant, when the idea was mooted to her. 'Yes, I do,' replied Phil. • Your sister's ideas are fresh and beautiful ; and merit does make its way with editors, without interest, though some people will toll you it dosn't.' How Katie's face lighted up whon they told her about this wonderful plan. She slipped her hand into Bessie's, with the brightest, sweetest tremble on her lips . 'If I can only help — if I can only be of some real use, it will make me happier than ever I was in my life.' • You will be a real ' spinner ' now, Katie,' said Alice, taking success for granted with her usual buoyancy, ' Yes,' said Katie ; ' a little blind ' spinner.' ' At this they all looked very grave, but Katie could not see them, so the happy | smile still rested on her lips. | The dedication and writing out of that | story was a time of happy excitement I to our three sisters, and Phil Lnsbington , and his mother were icarcflj Jess interested. For Mrs. Lushingtop had called ] at Paradise Place soon after Pail's first I unceremonious visit, and her pleasant, kindly face now seemed like that of an old friend to them all. 1 At last the precious packet was posted by Bessie's own careful hands, and then 1 there was nothing for it but — to wait. ! Wating is hard work enough to all of us, but our waiting comes to an end some day, here or hereafter ; and at last, one evening, I at the time of the last post, as the three sisttri tut round the fire, came the sound of the postman hurrying up the four stops that led to Mr! jg^by's door ' * nd then '

' It's the story come back ! It's sooior'iini{ big and fat ! It can hardly get n* ■> the box! It his squeezed irself Drouth the box and fallen on the floor !' •nod Alice, too wildly excited to be able o run out to the passage and see vrhat 'tic ' big fat' thins; was like. Even phcid 13ms coloured up, breathed quickly. v» *he gave an anxious look at Kitie, pale, iiid with lips apart, her baud grasping the back of th« sofa. Then Bess and alice made a rush for the nail door, but Alice was the quickest, and raising the packet from th>> floor, *vith trembling fingers tore offthe covering, and six Ion? strips of paper, closely printed, fell fluttering to the oilcloth. With a little cry of rapture, Alice gathered them up helter-skelter, aud clasping them against her bo3om, fled back i.*.to the parlour. •Ir isn't returned ! Oh, Katie, love, it's all printed, every word ! Oh, my darling, if you only could see it !' But Katie had thrown her arms around Bensio's neck, and her face was hidden on tiat taring, tender breast. flow Alice read aloud those precious ' blips' — 'iow Knlie, dca/, sweet spinner of those pretty yarns, passed her fingers I fondly over the words she coulJ ivt see — | all this and much more ray readers may imagine for themselves. Tnoy omy fancy, too, tlio appearance of the story, and Plnl Lu«hinir'ou rushing in, waving 'lieyollow 1 backed magazine iv his hand as though it were the title deeds ot 1 vast c-t u te to li) presently w?tered into possession of by Kati" 1 and her sisters. B".' tne climax wis. wtiea the editor's chrquo arrived, and sninll as the amount might havo seeraeJ to others, it was to Ka'ie an El Dorado — the first fruits of a mine of inexhaustible riches. And Katie's luck did not desert h*r, for y<*» another short story came back to No, 17, in those long, closely printed slips that are so welcome a sight to nil of us slaves of the pen. And at last it was agreed npon between the two who worked so diligently together, while Bessie guided awkward fingers over ivory difficulties, that a more ambitions work of fiction should be undertaken — one that, when accepted, would make them feel like having quite a sum of money invested in the funds, or the bank, or tome sash deliehtfal place. So, as the Spring weather mergod into Summer hea l <> on 1 the London streets grew hot and dusty, the blind spinner toiled at her loom, and chapter after chapter was added to a fast-growing pile of manuscript. But those country-bred children (for they were little more indeed) began to droop for want of fresh air and green field*, and Bessie's anxious eyes noted a hot flush on Katie's cheek of an evening, and a strange palor of a morning, and Alice spoke of her companion's restless sleep and muttered words, that showed the active brain was still at work ; but Katie, for once in her lif^ obstinate, declared there was nothing lh * matter, and worked at her story day by day. So at last, just as the dry. baking heat grew most intense, and when the very navement leemed hot at your feet, the long story was finished — finished and posted, and thedear blind spinner promised (o let the loom stand still and rest a while. Too late ! too late ! Some tiny delicate . wheel in the machinery was strained, and J so tho loom worked on against the spinner's ! .rill ,* worked on and spun strange, aimless, ! - ndless, unconnected fabrics ; and paler by ' morning, more hotly red by night, grew i Katie's cheoTc. ' I have been to blame ! I have let her work too hard !' cried Bessie, passionately self-reproachful, as she saw her darling j droop and fade, like some fair flower jarched by drouth. Bat Alice would not i hear it ' You did your b?st — you did all you ' could ; it is not your fault. Oh, Katie darling ! you will soon bo well again, won't you ?' And Katie smiled, and held a hand of each in her two little fevered, burning oalms. Then Mrs. Lushington on the strength of her matronly experience, took > the law into her own hands, and said, • She must see Dr. Carb >y.' ; So Dr. Carboy came ; a little quaint old man, bent in figure, and with sharp, piercing eyes, that looked at you from under shaggy brows, and were apt to make you think their owner hard and stern, until you came to know him — never a day longer ! W en a patient was very poor, Dr. Carboy had a habit of forgetting he himself was so. Oh, yes, in this great noisy city of ours there are huudreds of such men — grand Christians, whose generous goodness is only known to him who said, ' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these, ye have done it unto Me.' The little doctor peered into Katie's face, held the tiny wrist, and counted the feeble fluttering, unsteady pulse. 1 Ha— hum— ha 1' said he, in his old jerky manner. 'Quiet— rest — good food —change — that's what we want, young lady.' Then he perscribed some simple cooling mixture, and went down stairs with Bessie. ' The action of the heart is very feeble,' he said, looking keenly at her troubled face, ' Ha* your sister complained of any uneasiness ?' ' No,' replied Bessie ; ' but she never ! would complain,! fear. She is often very breathless on going up stairs, or walking fast, I know — ' ' Ha — yes— just so. Well you must be very careful of her ; she must rest, mind you ; rest, mind and body.' Then Bessie said, very timidly, and holding something in her closed hand — ' What am I indebted to you, Dr. Carboy, for this visit P' ' Indobted to me?' replied the doctor as though the idea was something unexpected;' why, do as I tell you ; give that girl her medicine regularly, and take her away from this terribly hot hole ; that's what you've got to do.' And with this list of Bessie's obligations to himself, and looking into his hat as if to assure himself it was- a hat before he essayed to put it on, Dr. Carfby took himself oS' with a rapidity that suggested all the Queen's physicians being assembled for a consultation, at which ho was due. 'Quiet — rest — change,' It is no novel verdict to be given upon the weary, the poor, the struggling in this great city ; but the means to curry out the order r 1 ' It must be done, somehow,' said Bessie her eyes raised to Phil Lushmgton's face Who can say what the comfort of a health ful man is to a woman in time of perplexity and trouble like this? Phil's

very voice and look seemed to bring comfort to the two troubled sisters. [Io held Bessie's haud firmly and quietly hs a loving brother might have done. Sora» day he hoped to win her for his wife and God helping; him, to render her life a 9 happy as man's love, and mac's watchful carp, could do ; but the time to think of that was not yet ; all lie wished for now wm to comfort and help her. 1 1 think it might be managed,' he said *\t length, ' and without writing to this uneU 1 you tell me of.' 'Oh, how?' cried Alice, jumping from the sofa where she had flung herself in an abandonment of sorrow. ' He's a brute, this Uncle John, and just as likely to refuse what we ask as not. He hated poor papa !' It struck Phil that, this seemed a ocntirapn 1 rather gpner ally entsr'ainrd by those who had known thnt individual ; but of course ho did not say so. ' You don't know how kind and genprou3 literarj people are among themselves ; and as you tell me the long story your sister wrote, is accepted and is to begin next week, I think — indeed I am almost certain — that if you went and told the editor himself all about this trouble, he wold giep the mon^y for the whole at once ; and it would be enough to take her I.) th* sea.' Alice thought that sbe would like to kiss him but reflected tbnt perhaps it might hardly be correct — yet. IVnrs stood in Bessie's grave eyes, nnd as she withdrew her hand from his clns|) hf felt a little greatful pressure, thai hnuntpd his palm all the rent of the day So it was settled that Mra. Lushinijton should go with Bessie to the cit^ an I they should see the editor o f Katie'i magazine, and ask him if he would pay for the long story «t oiicp and enahle the young authoress to seek fresh health and strength in change of air and scenoe. But of all thia nothing was to be said to the r>irl herself. • Oh, Bess !' cried 4dice, 'it will bo such a happy, happy thing to take the crisp rustling notes to her, and nay • See, you hare earned these yourself and now we will take you away • — — ' But here the child's voice broke, and a sob finished the sentence. Under the pretext ot a snopping expe.iition to the wonderful city shops, our i travelers set out, Bewie lingering t-> the last by Katie's side, as though she hardly liked to leave her for so long a time. • Isn't it odd how quick my breath cornea to-day, even if I move ever ao little? 1 said Katie, suddenly, about an hour after Bessie and Mrs. Lushington had set out on their journey. Alice looked up hurriedly from hef work. • It is ouly weakness, my dear,' she said with an il-concealed tremour in her vcice. 1 Let me get" you some of that soup the doctor's sister sent. So the soup was ordered, and taken ; but still Katie looked strangely languid, and the dark shaddows round her eyes, darker and more extended than usual. She had crawled down stairs towards noon as was her daily custom, taken up her place «n the horsehair sofa by the window, while Alice, busily engaged in turning a well-worn garment, in the hope of persuading it to ok like new, sat opposite. ' I think I shall go up stair 3 again and He down in my room,' said Katie. 'My bod is more comfortablo than this sofa ;' and she smiled at the notion of its general slipperiness and deformity. But insteed of going up stairs at once, the blind girl felt her way across the room (a task custom had made easy), and then stood beside her sister, passing a loving hand over the auburn locks that were so fair an adornment to their possessor, ' Sissy, 1 she said, falling into the fond old name of nursery days, • I often hear people say how pretty you are, dear ; it makes me wish I could see you.' In a moinont Sissy's work was flung down, and her arms were about the gentle speaker, ' Oh, I wish you could ! — t wish you could I Oh, Katie, it seem? so hard !' 'Hush, hush ! replied the poor child. c I could not love you more.' Then she stopped and turning to the blaze of sunshine that streamed into the little room, stretched out ucr arms towards it, as if she loved its full warm life. 'Do you rempmbor what you read to me last night, — 'Christ shall j>ivc thoc light' — 'Christ shall give thee light, 1 ' she repeated again, softly, yet with intense passion and pathos in her voice. 'Oh, Sissy, L don't think you can tell what those words mean to mo !' Then sho let Alice help her up stairs, and promised to he still until Bcsmo came. And Alico went down and tried to get on with her work ; but it w*a about time for the travelers to be home, and she was too much excited to settle to anything ' I can't work,' she said to herself, ' till I know what has happened. Oh, if that editor won't help our darling how I shall hate him !' At that moment the dcor bell gave its usual forlorn cracked tinkle, and Bessie, beaming, glowing, full of such joy as caused her eyes to shine with a tearful gladness, came — no, rushed into the room. ' See !' she cried, holding up an envelope before Sissy's delighted eyes, ' it's all here !— enough, aud more than enough, to give our darling health and strength again. Wo will not lose a day — we will go to morrow Oh, Alice Ihe was so dear, and kiud and good !' Alice kissed her in a perfect tumult of rejoicing and then hugged Mrs. Lushington too J3ut it was Phil who held Bessie's Land close in his. and looked into her glad eyes with eyes that reflected the joy and galdness of her own; for he had (oddly enough) met them on the doorstep, and been the Grst tj hear the happy tidings of their success. Together the sisters hurried up stairs. The joyful news should not bo kept back a J moment now. Oh, to sco her dear face lighten with tbo happiness of it all ! In Katie's room the window was set wide open, and the summer sun was shining hotly in. Katie lay upon iho bod, her tlun cheeks pillowed on her hand, her fair silken hair straying ovev the pillow. ' She is asleep, 1 said Bessie tenderly, 'We must wait to tell our news. Let down the biind, Sissy; the sun glows so strong at this time of dny, and itraiy wake her.' Then she bent lo.'ingly over the sleeping figure. Another moment, and a terrible wailing prj rung through the house— a cry that

brought Mrs. Lushington and Phil rushing up the stairs. God's hand had Rushed Katie to sleep, and the sunshine could not wake her. The 'Blind Spinner' was blind no more, and the eyes that had been sightless on earth now gazed apon the Heave.nly King in all his beauty — [' Capell's Magazine.'