Bohemian Society | Page 6

her flowers for sale.
But see! on the bridge is the figure of a woman. No need to hear her
history, the face tells its own story of sin and misery. She is looking

down at the river which flows sluggishly on; down perhaps at her own
reflection in the water, down perhaps deeper still into her own soul.
The face is hardened and set and there is scarcely a trace of womanly
likeness left. A life of sin and shame has almost obliterated all that is
good in her nature, almost I say, for no one, no matter how low or
degraded, can be wholly bad. But here it is difficult to discern one soft
look, as she leans wearily over the railing of the bridge--a silent, sad,
sin-stained creature. Soon there is a sound of wheels and gay laughter
and a carriage rolls by, and there can be no mistaking the nature and
errand of the occupants. A young girl, with sweet, pure face, all in
white, with white flowers in her hair and carrying a bouquet of white
flowers in her hand, is being driven towards the church. Passing the
solitary woman on the bridge she picks a beautiful flower from the
bouquet she is carrying and tosses it at her feet, for she wishes to-day to
make all whom she sees as happy as herself. A little of the hard look
leaves the woman's face as she stoops to pick the flower. Mechanically
she follows the carriage, with stealthy steps and bated breath she enters
the church, choosing a dark corner where she will not be observed, she
sits listening to the clergyman as he proceeds with the marriage rites
and not until all is over and the lovely bride is passing down the aisle
on the arm of her husband, does she dare to raise her eyes, and as she
does so they meet the pure frank gaze of the lovely girl who smiles in
her face as she recognizes the woman to whom she threw the flower.
The woman sits in her dark corner. Of what can she be thinking? Her
head is bowed and on her face is a look of agony. What a hell has
arisen in her breast! Her thoughts have wandered to her country home
which she has not seen for years.--To the time when she was as pure as
the young girl, who just pronounced her marriage vows; to the mother's
blessing as she saw her young daughter depart for the great city; to the
early days when she first arrived and worked honestly for her bread; to
the pride she felt over the first money she sent home to her old mother.
Her thoughts wandered back to the time when men and women turned
to look at her fresh rosy face on the street, wondering at her beauty
which partook so largely of the wild rose and mountain daisy. Could
this be the same woman, with the hardened face and form covered with
rags? It seemed so long ago. Then came the thoughts of striving with

temptation, then the promises made and broken, of ruin and shame,
then of the long illness, of dreadful poverty, and at last she sees herself
as she is, a ruined, homeless, sin-stained creature. Oh the misery, the
agony! What hell can be greater than this! While she is still sitting there
the bell begins to toll, and soon there is a procession moving slowly up
the aisle and four young boys are carrying a little coffin. It too is
covered with white flowers, placed there by loving hands. In the coffin
is a little waxen form almost covered with the same beautiful flowers.
The clergyman who had read the marriage ceremony, is now repeating
the last sad rites for the dead. Again they take up their burden and move
slowly down the aisle. As the coffin passes the woman, one of the
white flowers drops almost at her feet. She stoops reverently and picks
it up; almost hesitatingly as if afraid her touch will soil its purity, and
placing it tenderly by the side of the bridal flower she walks slowly
from the church. Watch her move along hurriedly, till she comes to a
narrow alley and stops in front of a wretched tenement house. Entering
quickly she passes up the rickety stairs and goes into a room where
there is a little child upon a wretched bed. Sickness and poverty have
almost finished their work. The child is sleeping and the woman steals
softly to the bed side and places the white flowers on its breast Even as
she does so the little creature smiles in its sleep. Perhaps the happy
smiling face of the lovely bride has visited it in its slumber,