The Columbian

It was very quiet at the Columbian, and the few gentlemen seated upon
the piazza seemed to be of a different stamp from those at the more
fashionable houses, as there were none of them smoking, nor did they
stare impertinently at the gayly-dressed lady coming-up the steps, and
inquiring of the clerk if Miss Alice Johnson were there.

Yes, she was, and her room was No. ----. Should he send the lady's card?
Miss Johnson had mostly kept her room.

'Lina had brought no card, but she gave her name, and passed on into the
parlor, which afforded a striking contrast to the beehive downtown. In a
corner two or three were sitting; another group occupied a window; while
at the piano were two more, an old and a young lady; the latter of whom
was seated upon the stool, and with her foot upon the soft pedal, was
alternately striking a few sweet, musical chords, and talking to her
companion, who seemed to be a little deaf.

"This is Miss Johnson," and the waiter bowed toward the musician, who,
quick as thought, seized upon the truth, and springing to Mrs.
Worthington's side, exclaimed: "It's Mrs. Worthington, I know, my mother's early friend. Why did you
sit here so long without speaking to me? I am Alice Johnson," and
overcome with the emotions awakened by the sight of her mother's early
friend, Alice hid her face with childlike confidence in Mrs.
Worthington's bosom, and sobbed for a moment bitterly.

Then growing calm, she lifted up her head and smiling through her tears
said: "Forgive me for this introduction. It is not often I give way, for I
know and am sure it was best and right that mother should die. I am not
rebellious now, but the sight of you brought it back so vividly. You'll
be my mother, won't you?" and kissing the fat white hands involuntarily
smoothing her bright hair, the impulsive girl nestled closer to Mrs.
Worthington, looking up into her face with a confiding affection which
won a place for her at once in Mrs. Worthington's heart.