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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, March 20, 1917, LAST EDITION, Image 18

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1917-03-20/ed-2/seq-18/

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By Florence L. Henderson
I was sorry, indeed, when Luigi
Marevelli curtly informed me that
my services were no longer required
' and I hope th'at some one else in that
strange home that had been my
abode for two months was also re
gretful. This was Miss Naomi Ster
ling. She acted otherwise; in fact, dis
tant, and I fancied an expression of
distinct censure in her beautiful
face. At all events, no opportunity
was afforded me to fathom or ex
plain. Her employer and my own
had coldly handed me an envelope
containing, as I knew, my week's sal
ary, with the words:
"You can go at once."
And he added, a darkly suspicious
and resentful look in his ever-restless,
ever-probing eyes:
"And you need not refer to me."
Miss Sterling, who was the reading
lompanion to his invalid wife, stood
near by as he spoke. She had di
rected a searching look at me. Then
she dropped her eyes. I saw a tear
falL Then, there being nothing
more to say, I bowed politely and left
the house.
I need not have been surprised at
the action of Marevelli, for he was
ever an autocratic, eccentric old
man. He was of Italian-French ex
traction, had inherited a fortune and
had given his life to study along ar
tistic and scientific lines. He had
whole cabinets stored with curios,
and a magnificent library. I had been
employed to catalogue all of those,
besides acting as his secretary. The
mien of my employer and the general
atmosphere of the dull old house
were gloomy and unfriendly alike.
My labor was light and congenial,
however, and then again I was oc
casionally thrown into the company
of Miss Sterling.
I cannot describe the rare dream
of grace and beauty that drew me
under the influence of this peerless
creature. She was mostly in tne
rooms of the invalid mistress, and
there was little opportunity for more
than a casual greeting, or a lew
words exchanged at the table. There
was a walled srarden. however, and
I managed to stroll there whenever
I saw Naomi among the flowers and
Twice I sDent a deliehtful half
hour with her. I felt after those occa-
Some One Came Down the Stairs,
sions fully impressed with the hope,
nay, the conviction, that she read my
love for her clearly. A fluttering
emotion which she had betrayed had
given me hope. One day she gave
me a rose from, her bosom and
blushed and moved away quickly. I
determined upon a confession of
love the next evening, but before the
day was over I was summarily Ua-

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