Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 69, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 March 1911 — When a Saint Intervened [ARTICLE]

When a Saint Intervened

By SUSANNE GLENN

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“Mias Janet has been down to pot her valentines,” giggled Flossie Brown, peeping out at the trim Agave harrying past “Flossie Brown, will be making tan because I went to the postoffiee topay,’’ murmured Mias Janet to herself, peeing the saucy, peering faoe, “but I don’t care! I just had to go! Now if I can get home without seeing him!" But behind her sharp steps crushed ■the snow and rang clearly an the crisp air, and a moment later James jWybrant hurried past her with averted face. Had he, too, been looking for a valentine? Poor Miss Janet shrank away from him in the dull February twilight like a guilty thing. Yet she had not the fainteßt idea what had changed the man’s loverlike attentions to an enmity of ten weary years, duration. And it happened on Saint Valentine’s day.- ■ - ■ •- - p ~ “I was quite.young and pretty, then,” she murmured a little pathetically, “and now I’m Just ‘Aunt Janet,’ an undesirable but rather convenient member of some one else’s family.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and her lips quivered. “I don’t care if I do cry. I should think I might have that privilege once In a while, and there is never time at home. v Miss Janet found no privacy in her brother’s family. All day there were {never-ending duties for her willing bands, and at night there was always the oldest neice, whom she had pityingly taken in when the second baby came, and who now began to look upon Aunt Janet as an unnecessary adjunct to their room. Ten years, and it seemed like yesterday, so close had ?he held the memory. Her heart hurried a little and her thin cheeks flushed as she saw again the happy girl in her pink, frilly frock who waited in the little parlor for the man who had even now passed her with such slighting coldness. How carefully he once had wrapped her in the warm robes. How he had cared for her vttth the tender attentions dear to woman’s heart before all the young people gathered at the rustic party. How his voice had thrilled as he bade her good night under the blinking stare. “Tommorw is Saint Valentine’s day,” he had reminded her. “Ybu needn’t send me valentine, dear; I’ll come after it myself!” “And he never came! He never came!” Miss Janet now sobbed outright . “I will not think of it,” she cried with sudden vehemence, “and I’ll never be such a poor, weak goose as to go for the mall on Valentine day again! I’ll just hurry home and go to work. ■ No one seems to want me. But I will not be a silly, self-pitying creature another day of my life!” James Wybrant threw his mail upon the living room table with a defiant fling. The daily paper, a farm Journal and an advertisement for star tionary gasoline engines. “Well, what did you expect?” he demanded harshly. Drawing a chair before the fire, he' sat down moodily to await his housekeepers call to supper. “You have been Insufferably rude,” urged the gentle spirit of the man in-* sistently, “and she looks thin and worn and tired.” “But she prefers this life to me,” whispered Pride. “She did her own choosing.” “Still, she was only a girl—she, may have changed her mind.” "She shall live by her.own decision,” flared Pride, "and so shall I!” "But will not live happily—there always will be the regret, and her unhappiness before you!” "Then,” cried James Wybrant aloud, "I’ll go where I can live in peace!” All through his silent meal his mind was at wotlfc 1 He would go to his brother, who was always begging him to come south. A neighboring fanner would gladly rent his land, and the old housekeeper could live on in the house as long as she desired. “I’ll see Fred Hall tomorrow morning about the place,’ he thought, once more back in the lonely living room. "I’ll get away as soon as I can—it will be better for both of v us!" He opened the big old-fashioned secretary. Every compartment was crowded with the accumulation of years. From an upper and seldomused, pigeonhole he drew a bundle of letters and spread them out before him on the lid. His heart gave a quick throb as he noticed a letter in Janet's delicate writing; he reached for it eagerly, and then dropped it into the waste basket with a shrug at his own weakness. There were also letters from his brother and a long envelope, into which had been carelessly thrust Bomp printed papers. As he drew out these • letter fell from among the sheets, tace downward on the table. It was sealed and he turned ft over wonderingly. On the face. In his own strong let tern, stood the name of Janet Bates! Gas mg at it, his eyes grew dark with apprehension and a hot wave seemed to stop his heartbeats. His fingers

trembled as he tore open the envelope and unfolded the sheet Facing him were the words; “My darling girl—Tve tried to find a valentine good enough fpr you, but it cannot be done. Gilt hearts and cupids seem but poor things when I think of you. "Will you let me tell you what I really want to give you, dear? I want to tell you all by ourselves, andI want to tell you today—Saint Valentine’s day! “There is always a confusion /at your brother’s, and I want you all to myself tonight. Will you let me ..take you out this eveniiig as we go last? When you are ready, put the lamp In the window and I will come. “Janet—Janet, I want to give you a real heart instead of gilded one! I want to give you ” With a groan the man dropped the letter and covered his face with his hands. How could he have failed to post this? What could Janet have thought —what could she not have suffered? Before him rose the long line of unkindnesses devised by his wounded pride. His head sank down upon the open letter. “Ten years,” he whispered, “ten years in which to wound and hurt her, and kill her love!’ His hands gripped the .old secretary. The determination with which Miss Janet returned home failed wearily while she washed the supper dishes. Upstairs her sister-in-law was putting the children to bed. In the sitting room her brother read his evening paper, Janet was alone in the kitchen with her dishes. Answering a tap at the door she beheld—James Wybrant standing in the starlight! “Janet,” he said very softly, under cover of the trummlng piano, as he stepped into the room, “Janet, I have brought you a valentine.” Janet took ths letter and read wonderingly. “I found that • tonight, Janet—l thought—but that does not excuse me. Can you care, after all this time, after all I have made you suffer?” Janet’s breath caught in a sob, and he took her in his arnjs. “If only you will trust me again I’ll try so hard to make up to you for all’these hard years.” “Oh!” breathed Janet In protest. “Let us have our ride tonight, dear. We will go down and tell Parson Andrews that we shall need him tomorrow.” “Tomorrow!” cried Janet, roused to action by this impetuous settling of affairs. “Oh, Jim, you know I cannot think of marrying you—tomorrow!” The brightness In the . man’s face died down. “Of course, dear,” he said humbly, “I do not ponder that you cannot trust me. I will do anything you say; wait as long as you wish.”Watchlng him, Janet reached up suddenly apd drew his face down gently to her own. “I’ll come with you,” she whispered. “And, Jim, I do trust you! I know that you will be good and dear to me, always.” *