Love Conquers Pride

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Part I. 

A PRETTY FACTORY GIRL.

Lovely Pansy lay languidly in the lounger at the foot of the grass, and listened toward the south wind hurrying through the tree best above, contemplating internally, with a blush, that it was by all accounts whispering a name — murmuring it again and again: "Norman Wylde!" At the highest point of the green, slanting grass stood a major white farmhouse, with long patios concealed by rose plants and honeysuckles. Pansy'suncle and auntie lived there, and she had come on a month's visit to them. The month was getting ceaselessly exceptionally quick now, and she must before long re-visitation of her work in Richmond, for Pansy Laurens was no pampered number one of fortune, however, a worker of one of the great tobacco production lines.

Pansy was just fifteen when her dad, a mechanical engineer at the TredegarWorks, had passed on and left his significant other and five kids destitute, save for what they could procure by the work of their own hands. Pansy was the oldest, and her mom needed to take her from school so that the labor of her little white hands could assist with procuring the family support. Nothing presented except for the tobacco plants, and Pansy went there while her sibling Willie was looking for employment as a money kid in a dry-goods store on Broad Street. The three more youthful ones, being too little to work, were gone on at school, while the mother took in sewing to help figure out the family pay.

It was no picnic for them all, most particularly on Pansy, who was so intelligent and refined, and who hated to leave school and toil at ghastly undertakings among friends who were for the most part disagreeable, for, albeit a portion of the young ladies were sweet and pretty as herself, others were coarse and discourteous, and jeered at her, calling her proud and aggressive, in spite of the fact that they knew on a basic level that they were only jealous of the wonderful face, so round and dimpled, with its big purplish-blue eyes, concealed by such a delightful edge of long black curling lashes.

They generally begrudged her that fair face and those plush masses of wavy dark hair that made such a becoming edge for the straightforward white skin, with its wild-rose colors and fragile mesh of blue veins. Be that as it may, pretty or revolting, it didn't make any difference, the young lady said to herself sometimes, with unpleasant discontent, as she checked out at her fair reflection in the mirror. She was only a plant young lady, all things considered, and there were individuals who peered down on her for that go about as though the very sound were the embodiment of profanity. To have been a shopgirl even, or a dressmaker, or milliner, would have been far more genteel, she shared with herself.

This was the first time in quite a while that she had got away from the plant, and she could never have done so than in the event that she had not been given a leave from work since there was a temporary dullness in exchange. Then Uncle Robbins had come to Richmond from his country home on a little business and, struck by her pale cheeks and air of languor, welcomed her to return home with him. Mother urged her to accept the greeting, announcing that she could get along without her; what's more, Pansy went readily away on her little summer occasion, which was now attracting to an end. Her heart was brimming with this as she swung back and forth in the hammock beneath the trees and paid attention to the breeze stirring the leaves so musically, appearing to mumble again and again that name so dear to her heart:

"Norman Wylde!" He was a mid-year guest at her auntie's, and he had been in Toher, not cool and disdainful like the others, who looked down upon her since she was a functioning young lady.

Pansy thought him the most handsome man she had at any point seen, and she was thankful to him for the respectful manner by which he treated her, never appearing to understand any distinction in the social position of herself and Miss Ives, the Richmond beauty, who was here with her mother in light of the fact that the specialists had prohibited any gayety for the elderly lady this mid-year by virtue of a serious heart inconvenience. Juliette Ives was as much infatuated with the attractive young gentleman as Pansy herself, and she scoffed at the factory girl in her modest yards and ginghams. "All things considered setting herself up as an equivalent among her aunt's borders," she said hatefully. "I mean to put her down without a moment's delay and let her in on that we don't want her organization."

So she strikingly inquired as to whether she could recruit her to do the washing for her mom and herself. "I'm not a worker," Pansy replied, flushing indignantly. "You are a plant, young lady, aren't you?" contemptuously. "Indeed, yet not a worker." "I don't see a lot of contrast," said the rich young lady discourteously, and from that second, the two were open foes. Juliette Ives knew in her own heart that her angry activities had been the result of envy since Norman Wylde had looked so respectfully at Pansy when he initially met her, and Pansy was quick enough to figure out reality.

"She is enamored with him and is desirous of me, disregarding my poverty and my desolate position. Great, I'll pay her back for her scorn, on the off chance that I can," she settled, with energetic arouse.

Furthermore, as she had excellence equivalent to, if not more prominent than, Juliette'sblond charms and was genuinely accomplished and wise, she had some benefits, at any rate, with which to enter the rundowns with the aristocratic beauty who disdained her so transparently. Furthermore, Norman Wylde, who had an honorable, gallant nature, could not help taking Pansy's part when he perceived how the visitors tried to put her down. "Unfortunate easily overlooked detail! It's a disgrace, for she is as sweet and pretty as a wild rose, and they should be well disposed with her and help to brighten her hard part," he thought with resentment.

CHAPTER II.

LOVE ALL HIS OWN.

The visitors had coordinated a fishing party, and everybody had gone, even Mr. Wylde, so it was exceptionally calm at the farmhouse. Auntie Robbins and her workers were occupied with making jam, andUncleRobbins was in the knoll, pulling and stacking the wheat he had cut a couple of days prior. Pansy had assisted with stripping apples for the preserves until her back throbbed and her hands stung; at last, Aunt Robbins sent her out to rest. "I shan't need you anymore today, so you would be advised to go and take a rest in the lounger before that stood up Jule Ives comes to turn you out of it," said the great lady.

Pansy went out, yet she removed her calico dress and gingham apron first and wore her prettiest dress and organdie lawn with white ground sprigged with blue blossoms. A pretty bow of blue ribbon secured the white ribbon at her throat, and one more one tied back the mass of undulating dim hair from the white sanctuaries, leaving just a couple of beguiling affection locks to twist over the white temple. Thus attired, she looked impeccably fair, cool, and beguiling, and she knew well that when the visitors returned, drained and hot from the day's entertainments, they would begrudge her sweet, comfortable appearance. She was not disheartened, for before long, when they came trooping through the huge white door nearby her, each one stopped and stared, and Miss Ives shouted, in a noisy, snide voice: "Wow, is it Sunday?" "Why, no, obviously not, Juliette," said Chattie Norwood. "Why made your thought process of such something entertaining?"

"Why Pansy Laurens has on her Sunday dress, that is all," with a loud snicker.

"Goodness, pshaw! Her other one is in the washtub," titteredMissNorwood, and each word came unmistakably to Pansy's ears. An angry drive provoked her to make some blistering answer. However, an innate delicacy controlled her, and she wouldn't lift her wonderful, hanging lashes from the book she claimed to peruse, albeit the furious variety developed to blood red on her cheeks.

The giggling party passed on toward the house; at the same time, althoughPansydid not look into it, she was cognizant that one had lingered and stopped. It was Norman Wylde, and he came up to the lounger and said tenderly:

"Unfortunate little Pansy!"

Her sweet lips shuddered, and she looked into them, meeting the delicate, thoughtful look of his breathtaking dim eyes. "You are a fearless young lady," he went on energetically. "I was glad that you substantiated yourself an over-the-top woman to answer to their coarseness. Your sweet pride makes me love you even more." Pansy gave a little beginning of shock and satisfaction. Did he indeed love her? The variety blazed up brilliantly on her fragile cheeks, and the lashes hung modestly over her eyes. "Take a gander at me, Pansy," said the young fellow, in a tone, made up of tender order and affectionate plea. "You are not shocked. You guessed that I cherished you, didn't you?" "No. I was worried about the possibility that that — that you cherished Miss Ives," she floundered, and a grimace obscured his attractive face. "Try not to address me of her," he said restlessly. "Who could love her after the ugliness and foul play of her lead to you?"He imprisoned both her little hands in his as he went on vigorously: "Pansy, do you cherish me, my little sweetheart?"

A constrained look from the sweet blue eyes responded to his inquiry, and, lowering down, he was going to press a kiss on her lovely lips when a secretive stride came up behind them, and an angry voice shouted: "Truly, Mr. Wylde, when you need to play with industrial facility young ladies you should not pick such a public spot, particularly when the young lady you are drawn in to is not far off." He began in reverse as though shot and Pansy sprang from the hammock with a screech: "It is misleading!" Juliette Ives snickered hatefully and answered: "Ask him. He won't deny it." Lovely Pansy, with a face that had developed white as a lily, turnedtoNorman Wylde. 

"Is it valid? Are you connected with her?" she requested strongly. "Indeed, yet — — " "That is sufficient!" intruded on Pansy with glimmering eyes. She would not let him finish his sentence, so sharp was her hatred at his trifling, as she considered it; and, taking a gander at him, she said:

"At absolutely no point ever dare to address me in the future, sir!" Then she strolled quickly from the spot, and Norman WyldeandJuliette Ives stood taking a gander at one another with furious eyes. "Are you not embarrassed about yourself?" she cried angrily. "Snoop!" he countered enthusiastically, forgetting.

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