Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 194, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 August 1913 — Her Married Name [ARTICLE]

Her Married Name

Mrs. Wardwell rocked uneasily, forth and back, on the hotel veranda. Mrs. Wardwell had not become an ntlmate member of the group as yet, for she had only arrived on the momng train; but already her antecedents, her Income and her mode and nanner of living had been investigatr »d by personally conducted inquiries, ill reports being, soon after, carefully letailed to those Interested. “She doesn’t seem to want to say nuch about herself,” whispered Mns. Dazey to her friend Mrs. Whippte; ind Mrs. Whipple obediently conveyed lie news to her friend, Mrs. Van 3tudd, that “there was somethingveil, a little queer, about Mrs. Wardveil’s life.” “I hear her husfiand is not all that te should be; some say he drinks, and jeats her.” “I shouldn’t wonder at It She looks scared to death all the time.” conttnled the first speaker; “she seems juite nice, too; but of course, one canlot be too careful.” Mrs. Wardwell rocked on, serenely unconscious of the unusual amount of jonversation she had afforded but to Decile Van Studd the whole affair was jnpleasant and unfair. She resolved to be very attentive to Mrs. Wardwell, ind went out at once to the desertedlooking veranda to get acquainted. From that day they became almost inseparable—a strange pair; the beautiful 19-year-old girl and the faded, sweet little woman of 40. “My Uncle Billie is coming home to-day,” announced Cecile one morning as they strolled together on the beach. “He’s the best chum I have, next to my father and an old dear he Is. All my life Uncle Billie has been doing nice things for me. You won’t mind him a bit I’ve written to him a great deal about you, and he says he is very anxious to meet this rival In my affections. We three will have a lovely time;” “I used to know a ‘Billie’ oncei” she said, absent-mindedly. Cecile looked at her curiously; then almost with reverence as she saw the expression in the little woman’s face. “She loves him still,” she thought, and pity filled her heart Why had she married the other man? As they came up the hotel path,'* strong, brown man rushed out and clasped the young girl In his arms. Then an unexpected tableau arrayed Itself before her eyes. As she turned to present her friend, they rushed at each other, hands outstretched. “Anne!” exclaimed the man, “who would have thought to find you here. I’ve looked over half the world for; you.” “This is my friend, Mrs. Wardwell, Uncle Billie, that I’ve been writing you about You sly man not to tell me you knew her.” As Anne’s face reddened, Unde Billie’s grew very pale. - * ■ “I beg pour pardon, I didn’t know\” he muttered lamely. Cecile chattered nonsensically to fill up the somewhat embarrassing pauses that occurred with disturbing frequency. Why, oh, why hadn’t she realized the truth and kept these two apart Why had she married the wrong man? How could anyone, who had known Uncle Billie, care for any other person? Looking slyly at his face, she knew that Mrs. Wardwell was not the only one who still cared. To Cecile, the situation was distressing, for she had adopted them both into her heart, and she wanted them to be happy.

Next day, Mrs. Wardwell would not go for their usual stroll, shutting herself up In lier room. Also, Uncle Billie went off by himself, a cigar gripped so tightly between his teeth that it almost divided In its effort so keep them apart. I Late in the afternoon, Cecile saw her friend go out the side door and* take the beach to the south. Soon after, she followed the same course. She was sure she would find her; friend, for they had a favorite resting place in this direction, in the shadow; of some giant rocks that piled themselves too high to be disturbed by the rush and roar of the ocean. As she drew near, the sound of sobbing came to her ears, and she could see the little woman rocking back and forth, in an agony of grief. “Mrs. Wardwell, dear Mrs. Wardwell, can’t I do something?” she crle<L “I cannot bear to see you like this."* “Oh, my dear, I’ve been so wicked,” said the poor woman. “I’m not mar-, ried, I never have been, and now F| never will be.” She stopped to wipeher eyes, and noticed the girl’s 100k 1 of astonishment. “I have a niece,” she explained, “a girl of 16, who is always twitting me about being an old maid, and I made up my mind that I would change my name and go somewhere for awhile;! just to escape the ridicule and that left-over feeling. But, oh, my dear, I can’t bear it, and now your Uncle Billie, he thinks I am married. Oh, my dear, I sent him away once, and now I have lost him again.” “Anne! ” Uncle Billie walked serenely out from behind the big boulder. “Anne, I have you now.” He laughed joyously, like a boy, tn his gladness. “I heard you say you were afraid you would lose me. You dare not send me away from you now.” Tenderly he opened his arms, and the sweet little old maid crept shyly into them; and as their lips met, Cecile walked away, unobserved and unwept—Miss Helen Gunnigon.