Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 43, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 February 1899 — WIDOW DARBY’S VALENTINE. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WIDOW DARBY’S VALENTINE.

ill E widow Darby, 'fair, plump and lookins far younger than her 45 years, had ridden into town with Jared Kent because her horse had lamed ihimself that morning, and Jared “happened to be going in,” and had asked the widow to ride with him. Jared was what some of the people of the neighborhood called a

“regular born obi bach.” lie had flouted and scorned womanhind most of the fifty years of his life, and had openly set forth his conviction that men were "better off without ’em than with ’em,” particularly when it come to “marrying of 'em.” He hud held to this conviction so long and had proclaimed it so boldly and so eonatnntly that all of the match-makers in the rural neighborhood in which he lived had given him up a hopeless case beyond the pale of their schemes for rnakiug a benedict of him. Jared was not, like most avowed women haters, a crabbed, cross-grained, sneeringly cynical man, which mnde his celibacy all the more unpardonable in the eyes of the match-makers. “He’d mnke a real good husband if he’d try,” they said. “Then he has the nicest farm in the neighborhood, with one of the best houses on it and money out at interest, although lie's not a bit mean and atiugy. He’ll do his full share always for a neighbor in distress. It isn’t because he’s too stingy to support her that Jared doesn't get him n wife.” It was a clear, crisp morning in February when Jared rode to the village with the widow Darby seated beside him in his neat little cutter. The sleighing was fine and the air keen and exhilarating. It gave the widow’s plump cheeks n beautiful crimson glow and made her black eyes sparkle. She was in high spirits and her laugh rang out frequently as merry and rippling as the laugh of a child. But then the widow Darby was proverbially cheery. She had suffered keenly the loss of her husband and both of her children, but time had softened her grief, and she was too wise to spend her life in gloom and grief over the loss of those who were beyond all care and sorrow.

She had a comfortable little home and a few acres of land adjoining Jared Kent’s. She had known Jared ull of her life, but not once had she thought of him as a possible successor to Joel Darby. “Jared will never marry any one,” she bad said. “He isn’t of a marrying disposition. Some men are that way. It’s all they lack to make ’em what God intended they should be. My husband and I used to talk Jared over a good deal, and we did our full share to get him settled for life with a good wife. We used to invite lots of nice girls, young and elderly both, to our house and then have Jared come over to tea and to play croquet with him. He’d be nice and pleasant and all that, but he never came any ways near falling into any of the traps we set for him. We thought once that he did take a kind of a shine to a nice, sweet, real good looking girl of about 30 named Janet Deane from over Shelby way, who was visiting us. She’d of made him an awful good wife, and I sung her praises all the time, but nothing came of it.” “It’s an elegant morning, isn’t it?" said Jared, as he and the widow flew along over the hills and through long lanes in which the snow was drifted almost to the top rails of the fences. “Oh, it’s lovely!” replied the widow. “1 Ike snow.” “So do I. You got much to do in town?” “No; I’ll be through with all of my errands in an hour. I can let something go If you don’t want to stay in town that long.” “Oh, that’ll be none too long for me. Where shall I meet you?” “i’ll be at Smith & Hunscom’s dry goods store, any time you say." “We’ll call it 11 o’clock, then.” It was three minutes after 11 when Jared drove up to the appointed place of meeting. The widow bad stepped into the s|eigh and he was tucking the robes in around her when she said: “There, Jared, I’m just like other women; I’ve forgotten something.” “What is fc?” “I forgot to go around to the postoffice. I know that there’s nothing there for me, because one of the Stone boys brought my mail out last night, and there’s no mail trains in until noon; but poor old-Jane Carr came over just before I left and wanted me to be sure and see it there was • letter for her. Her daughter is very afck out Wtthf. and she hasn’t had a letter for a week, and she’s half wild. I couldn’t iMlf to tell her rid forgotten to go to the •ft won’t bo three blocks out of the way.” Two or three boys stood idling in front

of the postoffice and Jared said to one of them he chanced to know: “Say, Jimmie, run into the office and see if there’s any letter for Mrs. Jane Carr. You needn’t ask for me, for I’ve been around and got my mail.” “You might look in box 184,” said Mrs. Darby. “Mebbc there’s a drop letter for me.” The boy came out a moment later with a very large square white envelope In One hand and a small blue envelope in the other. He grinned ns he handed them to Mrs. Darby. She glanced at the blue envelope and said joyfully: "O here’s a letter for Jane, and it’s from her daughter, I know by the postmark. How glad Jane will be! And here—well, I declare!” She burst into a merry laugh as she looked at the big white, embossed envelope. The boy had told the truth when he hnd gone back to his comrades and said with a titter: “She’s got a valentine!” “Who in the land ever sent me that thing?” said Mrs. Darby, holding the envelope out at arm’s length. “I didn’t even know it was Valentine’s day. If it isn’t the greatest idea that l should get a valentine!” “I don’t know why yon shouldn't,” said Jared. “t)h, ljccause I—but I guess some child sent it.” “Maybe not.” “No one else could have had so little gumption!” said the widow with another laugh. “Maybe there’s one of these comic valentines inside of it —some ridiculous thing about a widow likely.” “Why don’t you open it and see?” “I will.” She burst into another laugh as she drew forth a dainty creation of lace paper, tinsel and bright colored embossed pictures. “How perfectly ridiculous!” she said. “The idea of any one being ninny enough to send an old woman like me a thing like that!” “You’re not an old woman.” “I’m forty-five!” “Well, I’m older than that, and I don't call myself an old man. Many a woman around here would be glad to get a valentine like that if the sender really meant it." “Yes, and if you were the sender.” “I’m not vain enough to think that and not foolish enough to say it if I did think it.” “No, I don’t think that you are, Jared. But I wonder who could have sent me this. The writing on the envelope is evi-

dently disguised, and—O here is something iuside! Let’s see what it says. “ ‘O wilt thou be my valentine Forever and forever aye. And w ilt tbon take this heart of mine. And give me thine to-day?' ” There was another verse, but before she had rend It, the widow Darby cried out: “Jared Kent, that's your handwriting and you need not try to deny it!” “I’m not trying to deny It. You’ll find my name sigued in full to the next verse on the other page.” This was the next verse: “If ‘yes’ my nnswr Is to be. My heart with Joy will fill. If ‘no,'A yet shall be your friend And I shall love you still.” They had reached the outskirts of the town now. Jared brought the horse to a standstill and said: “la it yes or no, Lucy?” She looked at him with shining eyes and laaghipg face for a moment. Then she laid one of her mittened hands on the sleeve of the great for coat he wore and said: “I think it is yes, Jared.” He turned his horse’s head toward the town. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Back to the minister’s. It’s Valentine’s day, you know, and if yon are to be my valentine, I want you to-day.” An hour later they stopped at Jane Carr’a gate. She came skurrying ont for her letter with her apron over her head. “I brought yon a letter, Jane, and I got a valentine,” said Lucy, holding up the big white envelope. “I got one also,” said Jared, as he put an arm aronnd his wife and kissed her.— Detroit Free Press.

AT JANE CARR’S GATE.