The Ladies’ Magazine.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2544, 3 July 1909, Page 4 (Supplement)

The Ladies’ Magazine.

WHEN JESSIE FOUND HER MOTHER. (By Emily Calvin Bla'ke, author of “Six Great Moments in a Woman’s Life,” etc., in the “Ladies Home Journal.”) Mrs. Underwood presented her cheek •fco receive her daughter’s kiss. If for a second an unquenchable mother-, light flooded her eyes-she was not conscious of its glow. Jessie regarded her mother for a moment; then she spoke, -with a little tremor manifest in her tones. “Mother,” she said, “I’d like to make a business arrangement with you.” Mrs Underwood ' smiled faintly. “What now, Jessie?” she asked. “I need more money than you allow me, mother,” the girl responded, all the sensitiveness of her , fifteen years showing in the quick color that suffused her face. “And I thought, perhaps, you would be willing to let me earn it.’ “Well, we’ll .see,” Mrs. Underwood replied. ' “What do you need the money for?” The girl seemed to. shrink from her mother, and her eyes were not so candid when she at last lifted them. “Oh, nothing,”' she said . Mrs. Underwood turned away. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said shortly. At noon Jessie waited for her mother to speak. Mrs. Underwood, however, said nothing, and the girl finally asked timidly: “Have you thought Low I could earn some money, mother?” Mrs. Underwood answered quickly: “I’ll give you a quarter a week for hemming dinner napkins. There’s a fortnight’s work to be done on them. Will fifty cents be enough?” “Oh, yes, indeed,” Jessie replied eagerly. “I should like to know just what this money-earning fever means,” said Mrs. Underwood, after a slight pause. “I want to buy the material and make Mrs. Owens a silk scarf,” said Jessie, not meeting her mother’s eyes. “She does not need what you can give hor,” said Mrs. Underwood, crisply: “you are a foolish little girl.” “Oh, mother.” Jessie forgot her timidity and looked up pleadingly, “She may have other scarfs, but I want to make her one with forget-me-nots on white silk and embroider her initials. It will be sweet and dainty—just like her.” She hesitated for a moment. “I love her so, mother, that I want to do something for her.” “I think you spent all your money about a month ago for something for her.” “I know, Mother; but when I gave my present to her do you know what she did?” “No.” “She kissed me !” Jessie breathed the words as though their meaning was fraught with holiness. Mrs. Underwood looked out of the window for a moment before speaking. “That was a wonderful reward,” she said at last, and her tones bit into the child. “Now, please, clear the table while I go upstairs.” A feeling of disappointment filled Mrs. Underwood as she went about her duties. Then with her characteristic honesty she designated the emotion as envy, touched with longing. Jessie’s voice deep and low, as she uttered the magic words, “she ’kissed me,” rang again in her ears. A vision of Mrs. Owens rose before her: a tall, graceful figure with a pale face crowned with dark hair. Her brown eyes held all enthralled who came within the radius of their charm. Yet Mrs. Underwood never succumbed to their magnetism. That Mrs Owens had done a great j deal for her daughter Mrs. Underwood knew. She had organised a society for young girls of Jessie’s age, and every Saturday night they met at her home. She had discovered in Jessie a talent for leading, and had encouraged it. Under her guidance Jessie had studied and memorized, and nearly every Saturday evening, when the * Girl’s Club met, she was called upon to give one of her readings. And within the girl had sprung that most exquisite thing, the love of a child for an older woman. Jessie idealized Mrs. Owens, and viewed her through the crystal of her own sincerity. On the night of the tender kiss she had lain awake, living in fancy the moment of the thrilling caress. And, too, Mrs. Owens seemed to understand the girlheart. Thirsting for -love and its demonstration, Jessie had told her dreams and aspirations to be fulfilled in the silver ' future. She had confided the inner secrets of her young life. \ All this Mrs. Underwood knew and pondered. Then, with a sigh of dismissal, she left the subject, banishing it to the realms of the inevitable. Jessie finished the scarf, then anxiously waited till that week’s session of the Girl’s Club was concluded. With flushed shyness she went timidly then to Mrs. Owens and put the little j labor of love into her hands, while with wide eyes, she watched the slender fingers remove the dainty ribbons and disclose to view the scarf within. ' “h made it for you.” Jessie breathed; “av J , T sewed I put a loving thought into ea< h stitch.” The glowing eyes soc bt '-I; 9 Owens’s face. “Do you lik. -*.y she murmured. 15 shall love it, dear child,” Mrs. Ou -’i j answered; then she gazed at the • b-onng bps. She might have *eY rgift of all things great in that . ~, , ,ii 11 ..... ..

luminous face. Suddenly she leaned forward and put her arms about the slender "figure. She, held her close for a moment, then stooped and kissed her. And soon after Jessie went home, her heart expanding with her joy; she went at once tq her own room, desiring to be-alone that she might muse over each word that her beloved one had 'uttered.

To her surprise she found her mother there. She was lobking for a misplaced article. Sho turned as her daughter entered the room, and the keen eyes noted tho flushed face, the sparkling eyes. ; i “Well” she asked shortly.

“ Oh, mother,” the girl cried, “she liked the scarf very much. She’s going to wear it and think always of me. Mother, I love her,. oh, better —” She paused, covered with quick embarrassment.

“Finish your sentence,” said Mrs. Underwood grimly; “you love her better than anybody else in the world.” Jessie did not answer, and without more words Mrs Underwood left the

room. Jessie went quickly to the door after her. “Good-night, Mother,” sho called, a faint appeal in her tones. Mrs Underwood paused in the hall as the voice reached her. Then sho ovent back and kissed the girl lightly. •“Good-night,” she said with no vibration in the -words. ♦ * * • Jessie was to read at the Girls’ Club on the following Saturday -night. She had studied her monologue for several •weeks, and yet, when the evening came, a feeling of apprehension overcame her: Sho sought Mrs Owens. “I think,” she. said timidly., with her characteristic shyness, “that 1 should like to be excused to-night.” “Oh, nonsense, Jessie,” Mrs Owen responded briskly; “you’ll get along all right, I’m sure.” So when Jessie’s name was called she went forward to the platform, but the insecurity of her memory filled her with fear. She. began bravely enough, but soon, the words slipped from her mind and seemed to float away into the room. She'tried to bring them hack to serve her, but to no avail. An agony of shame swept over her; she felt the color flame into her face and her -lips tremble. She stumbled along, hut suddenly the audience resolved itself into the face of one silly, giggling girl. Then all though left Jessie but one. She must get away! Almost without volition she. slipped from her place, and, blind -with humiliation, she-went down the aisle, not pausing till she found herself out beneath the stars. There she rested for a moment, but the memory of that one laughing face overcame her, and with a cry she started for her home, almost running till she reached the door. Safe within her own room she flung herself on the bed. She wept violently; then, when the storm had passed, she sat up and tried to arrange her thoughts. Soon her mother knocked and Jessie opened the door. Mrs Underwood exclaimed at sighfl of the girl’s griefstricken face. “What is the matter?” she asked in her cold, measured tones, although her .heart throbbed at sight of her child’s distress. For a moment Jessie hesitated; then she gianced at her mother’s self-coa tained face. “Nothing,” she replied . Mrs Underwood turned away, the words ringing untunefully in her ears. J*ssie, left alone, resumed her sad thoughts. Then, just as she was falling asleep, tho illuminating belie# came that Mrs Owens would understand! Even if she herself could not intelligibly say what motive actuated her when she slipped from the platform out into the cool night, her friend would know. The thought was a calming one, and soon she fell into a deep slumber. **■*■**. Mrs Underwood asked no more questions. She was not in her daughter’s confidence, and had never- aspired to be. But ever the little ache within her gnawed. But when the letter came a storm of indignation shook her. It was written to her by Mrs Owens, and the mother read it many times. It ran: “Dear Mrs Underwood, —At first I was going to write to Jessie’s father, but thought, after all, that her mother was the person most interested. Jessie no doubt has told you of her exhibition the other night. I can think of no other term. She seemingly forgot her lines and without a word of explanation rushed from the platform out of my home. When I went to look for her she was nowhere to be found. Jessie is a most peculiar»girl, but even from Per I would not expect such a display of temper at her failure. She is not like the Average healthy-minded girl, and I have often regretted this fact. I am very fond of her, however, and in asking you to punish her. according to her deserts, I am convinced that I am only doing the duty which I see before me/-—“Most Sincerely Yours, MARGARET OWENS.” ' Tho mother crushed the letter in her hand. This woman then, whom Jessie so- loved, had not understood the child’s rare sensitiveness. Jessie’s face rose clear within the mother’s inner vision, and , she saw again the, young loveliness as the girl whispered “She kissed

What would she not give to inspire such a love? The tears blurred her eyes, and there came the yearning wish that Jessie would say “I love you, Mother,” in the same low, vibrant tone __ . • |

that had thrilled her when sho heard those other words.

Then a fierce resentment shook her. What .right had a stranger to steal her child’s love ? She stifled a sob that crossed the. bitterness of her mood, and looked within herself for the solution.

Why should not the beauty of this love have been given to her? Then the realisation came. She had not sought it! Undemonstrative, locking all her depth of feeling away, she had sought neither the girl’s love nor her confidence/. There had been no companionship, and no effort made for it. The kiss at morning, the good-night kiss, had comprised the affection of the day. And then another had. divided them. *****

But now with cleared vision Mrs Underwood knew that between the close relationship of mother and daughter no other can obtrude. For there is no tie so great as that which binds a girl child to her mother, when that tie is ( strengthened by tender confidences and generous love. The girl-heart is romantic, craving manifestation. It ; s an unseeing thing, also, not able to look beneath calm exteriors to the great depth of mother-love. Was it too late to gain this confidence? Mrs Underwood, gazing out into the .quiet street, knew that she. desired the sweetness of her daughter’s love and the beauty of he.r companionship more than aught else. She heard Jessie’s footsteps in tho kail, and with quick decision she went to meet her.

For the first time within the girl’s remembrance she felt her mother’s arms about her and her mother’s kisses falling on her cheek, not with chill Perfunctorinoss, but warm and fervent. It was new and most delightful, for she longed for love as the flower longs for the sun.

And then, very gently, her mother led her to her room and read to her Mrs Owen’s letter. The hurt of a wounded animal crept into Jessie’s eyes as she listened. Was this the love that had sent her to sleep, calm and secure in its big discernment? She sank down on the lounge beside her mother. The words of the letter danced plainly before her. A display of temper ? The remembered the dark shame that filled her because she had forgotten her lines; she thought of the laughing face, the longing to fly into the cool night—to he alone. She had not analyzed her emotion, but she knew that it was not temper. She turned to her mother.

‘.‘Mother,” she said, her voice low, “does anybody ever understand?’,’

The mother waited before answering, her heart reaching out its deep sympathy to her child. “I thought that love always had understanding in it,” Jessie went on; '“but when it hasn’t it fails, doesn’t it?”

The mother nodded, her yearning eyes fixed on Jessie’s face. Then, as the girl moved nearer to her, her heart leapt, for it was coming, the confidence and the perception of a mother’s love.

“How shall you punish me, Mother?” She looked deeper into her mother’s eyes. “You think that I deserve it, of course.”

The inevitable character of the girl s question mastered Mrs Underwood’s reserve. With a hurt cry, she. drew tho small figure close to her and looked down into the searching eyes. “My little girl,” she whispered; then paused, for the greatness of her desire overwhelmed her. Then: “Oh, Jessie, Jessie,” she pleaded, “won’t you lova me as you have loved her? Won’t you come to me and tell me the things that stir your heart? Won’t,, you remember that my love will never fail you—will surround you always against everything ?” Her emotion blinded her for a moment, so that she did not see the look that transfigured her child’s face, fehe knew only that the little form withdrew itself from her coveting arms, and a fear blighted her. Then at onoe she felt sweet kisses covering her face; sheheard the low voice calling to her, its tones filled with a new, thrilling quality: ‘ ‘Mother —Mother —what a beautiful name—and it belongs to you by right—because it means everything!”