Wedded by fate

One dismal day in November—a day when the sky was dull and leaden, when the wind sighed and moaned mournfully, and, a fine cold rain that was almost sleet was falling, a young girl, clad in a long, dark ulster, a brown felt hat upon her head, her face concealed by a thick veil, entered the reception office of the City Hospital in Boston, Massachusetts.

Going directly to the clerk, who sat within a little box-office, she asked:

“Can I see the superintendent?”

The woman eyed her curiously for a moment, then curtly replied:

“This isn’t visitors’ day, miss, and if you’ve come to see any friend, calling upon the superintendent won’t do you any good, for we never break our rules.”

“I have no friends here; I have not come to visit any one; I simply desire to see the superintendent upon a matter of business,” the young girl quietly returned, but with a certain dignity which appeared to impress the clerk, for she at once rang the bell, and then bent again over the book in which she had been writing.

Presently a man appeared.

“What’s wanted?” he briefly asked.

“Is the superintendent in his office?” the clerk inquired, without lifting her eyes from her book.

“Yes.”

“Tell him there’s a lady here who wishes to see him.”

The man retreated after darting an inquisitive glance at the visitor, and was absent about five minutes, when he reappeared, and by a sign indicated that the girl was to follow him. Passing through a narrow hall, her guide at length opened a door on his left, and told his companion to enter.

“The superintendent’s in his office with one of the directors, but he’ll be out presently,” he said, then vanished, closing the door after him.

The girl sat upon a chair near the window, turning her veil back from her face, a heavy sigh escaping her as she did so. The act disclosed a pale but strikingly beautiful countenance. The features were perfect, clear-cut, and with the imprint of the patrician plainly stamped upon them.

The brow was rather low, but full and beautifully shaped and crowned by waving black hair, as fine and glossy as silk. A pair of great jet-black eyes were shaded by long curling lashes. The nose was small and straight, the cheeks delicately rounded, the mouth a marvel of loveliness and sweetness, while the prettily rounded chin had a charming little dimple at its base.

Her complexion was strangely fair for one who had such dark hair and eyes, and this fairness was enhanced by the vivid scarlet of her lips and the utter absence of color in her cheeks.

There was an expression of sadness in her eyes, and every now and then a quiver of pain swept over her red lips and found vent in a deep sigh, which plainly betrayed that she had some secret anxiety or trouble on her mind.

She was rather slightly formed and delicate in appearance, yet there was strength and vigor in her movements, despite the air of depression that pervaded her attitude.

Presently a door, opposite the one by which she had entered, opened, and a tall, rather awkward man came into the room.

He eyed his visitor with a keen glance, as he bowed courteously to her, and then stood waiting for her to state her business.

She arose as he came forward, and, extending a slip of printed paper toward him, remarked: “I have come to you, sir, in reply to this advertisement for nurses.”

The man regarded her with surprise.