Life — January 24, 1884 — page 7: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

* LIFE: him to emotion if a well-bred and well-connected young gentle- man were ever known to emote. “She is a type,” he murmured ; ‘‘and all the more interesting for being in transition.” He approached her softly. “HE APPROACHED HER SOFTLY.” You are commensurate,” he whispered ; “* you are analogous.” She gazed at him like one in a dream. “* Vous étes trés charmante,—tr’s adorable,” he went on with repressed feu/ing. She came to with a shudder ; it was her first Boston French. | ‘*You bet your sweet life I am,” she murmured in turn. | “« That ’s what ails me to a T.” Love had touched her heart, but not improved her speech. He gazed at her in pity ; it was patronizing pity, but he could n't help his superiority. He glanced about him. “Your entourage is deplorable,” he said ; ‘ your relations are most undesirable. Be no more Calamity Jane; be Ginevra Infelice,—Genevieve the Unfortunate.” He smiled once more upon her, and tip-toed softly away. Ill. W HEN our heroine rose next morning her head held but one thought. Some of us would be lucky with even one ; but | no matter. This thought dominated the day, and soon became the guiding-star of her whole existence. “ He called me Ginevra,” she murmured ever and anon. ‘A leetle gilt-edged, mebbe, but I'll live up to it or bust in the attempt.” Twenty-four hours previous she would have expressed herself in a less printable way ; but love had begun its wondrous transformation. | The morning was wet and gloomy. Outside the doorway she encountered her father in a pair of new boots. He was enraged; the air around him was blue. ‘* The —— bilk has vam- oosed, bag and baggage,” he howled, ‘‘and I’m thirteen sixty out.” A responsive rage enkindled itself in his daughter's face. “Don’t you call him no names,” she cried fiercely. ‘* Not call him no names! What is it to you? Sweet on him, | hey ?” What was he to her, indeed? She felt the hot blood mount to her cheeks; tears of shame and anger sprang to her eyes ; she turned and fled. Awnd then she knew she loved him, | “Come back here, Calamm !” her father shouted. . you goin’ todo? Come back, I say.” | © What | i | whooped it up as well as she could for the old man’s gang. ‘or hi = & Z ‘(HIS FEET WERE STUCK FAST IN THE MUD.” He attempted to follow her, but his feet were stuck fast in the mud,” He saw her rush to the corral, and fling herself on Broken- backed Mag. He writhed and turned and twisted; he cursed and howled. As Calamity and Mag struck the eastward trail, he put all his energies into ‘one herculean wrench. He set himself free, but his boot soles remained in the mud where he had stood. Oh, glue, glue, glue! (These are my remarks, not his.) He shouli not have expected too much for a dollar seventy- five. Ginevra roamed the mountains day and night for a week ; at the end of that time she put into the Misery for repairs. She resumed her accustomed duties at the ranch. She But she was not the same girl as before ; she left off smoking and | drinking, and day and night she murmured softly, ‘‘ He will come | back ; he will come back. And when he does, I must be up to the mark.” A week later she struck the old man for the price of a seal-skin sacque. How did she happen to know anything about seal-skin sacques ? To inform her mind she had subscribed to Harfer’s Bazar—Oh, woman, woman ! [70 be concluded.] “SHE STRUCK THE OLD MAN FOR THE PRICE’OF A SEAL- SKIN SACQUE.” comicbooks.com