Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 February 1905 — “JASMINE” [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

“JASMINE”

By VIRGINIA LEILA WENTZ

When his pretty little cousin from New Orleans had married one of his chums Tom Chester had felt a bit dubious as to the outcome. u Selwyn was a handsome chap, a spoiled child of fortune, who in ail his life had scarcely felt a restraining finger upon his impulses, to say nothing of a restraining hand. He was the possessor of big capabilities either for good or evil. Would Doris develop the god or the devil in him? And, for Selwyn’s part, would he make the light in his young wife’s laughing eyes still brighter, or would he deepen the already sensitive curves in her childish mouth? Two years had proved Chester’s doubts to be not without justification. “What a pity! What a pity!” he thought as he sat in. his office one morning and looked across the table at his fair client. “So you’ve come to me, Doris, for advice?” He looked out of his window. How mockingly the skyscrapers loomed against the sky line—a monument of man’s greatness, and yet at heart so little was man! He turned searchingly upon Doris. “Do you really want me to speak as yorr lawyer?” She bent her pretty head in affirmation. “Well,” answered he, still meeting her eyes keenly, “divorce him.” “Yes,” she laughed (it was the laugh of a woman who dare not cry), “the facts are hideous enough, are they not?” “Wait; that was your lawyer’s advice. As your cousin, Doris, as his friend, as a man, God knows, who loves both, I beg you to forgive him. Hasn’t he repented, dear? Doesn’t he ask you to let him begin ail over again on a clean slate? That’s all a man can do. It’s a woman's hand must wipe out all the old, hideous markings.” She leaned wearily back in her chair. “Yes,” she said, “we women are sent into the world to pardon, aren’t we,

like governors and priests? Only we are not expected to give sentences and penances.” How beautiful she was, with that queenly poise of her young head contrasting so oddly with the pathetic droop of her scarlet mouth! Chester’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. Meaninglessly the dull sound of traffic came up from the streets below. "Where did the Jasmine come from, Doris?” he asked abruptly. The penetrating odor had suddenly made him hark back to the day of that pretty little southern wedding in New Orleans, when everything seemed crowded with its perfume. A crimson flush surged into Doris’ cheeks, then spread to her broad, sweet temples and dimpled chin. “The jasmine?” she echoed helplessly. “Yes; where did you get It?” Still flushing, but silent, she looked down at the white waxen petals and the shining leaves. “Will you give me a flower?” said Chester curiously. She wrenched the Jasmine from her girdle and impulsively rose from her chair. “Certainly,” she said; “take all of It. Take it as a portion of your fee. You’ve told me what I can do; tomorrow I’ll drop in and tell you what I want to do.” As her hand touched his for a second she nodded whimsically toward the Jasmine; “I reckon this is the first time any one ever paid you in such a romantic fashion?” When the elevator had taken her down, Chester walked back to the table and looked at the blossoms lying there in all the stiff, white pride of their southern fragrance. “And I'd never guessed it,” he commented slowly. “So there’s another man in tbe case. And I was putting all the trouble down to Doris’ pride. However, this jasmine explains. Poor; Selwyn—poor chap! She can’t care' overmuch for the donor, though,” he reflected logically, “or she wouldn’thave left me his gift” Just then the door opened. It was Doris, more radiantly lovely than he had ever seen her. 1 “What’s that name children use for, one another when they take back gifts, Tom? An Indian giver? Well,

you can use that name for me, be cause I want these back.” As she pinned the jasmine into her girdle again her little gloved band trembled perceptibly. “Tell me, Doris,” he said to her commandingly as he arrested her a second time at the door, “what is the meaning of this? As your cousin and friend I would wish to know, but as your lawyer I must know—l must.” “You shall tomorrow, Tom!” she threw back at him over her shoulder. “I’ve made up my mind at last!” She was gone, but not before he had caught a gleam of tears in her eyes. As Chester waited at the “L” station on his way uptown that afternoon some one grabbed his arm and gave him a gay greeting. When he glanced at the fine boyish face he almost groaned. "The woman be loves will make him a god or a devil, I used to think,” reflected Chester as they made for a double seat in the car. “And when Doris is gone—not much doubt about the outcome.” “Wait a minute, old boy,” said Selwyn as Tom, in uncertainty, was about to pull out an evening paper. “You’ve been a jolly, stanch friend to me. When I deserved a right down hard kick you didn’t even side step. That’s why I want to tell you”—his voice broke suspiciously, nnd he fingered at his collar—“everything’s right, and I’m the very happiest man in all New York!” “Eh? What’s that?” said Chester blankly, dropping his paper and squaring about. “’Twas like this,’”explained Selwyn, a wrapt smile on his handsome face. “You know, of course, we haven’t been living together for three months. Well, this morning as I was coming out of my club whom should I run right into hut the dearest little woman God ever made. Old chap, I don’t know how it happened, but actually she let me walk down the avenue with her, and when we came across a ragged urchin at a' corner with little bunches of jasmine tied with twine she actually half turned for a second. Suddenly I saw the big tears well in her eyes”— The collar seemed to be troubling him again. “Her home in New Orleans was literally thick with Cape jasmine, you know, Tom ?” he went on. “And, like a queen she said, ‘Don’t you want to get me a bunch of those blossoms?’ Did I want to, indeed! And, by Jove, old chap, if she didn’t pin them in her girdle and wear them! Tomorrow she’s going to send for me and tell me whether I may enter paradise again.” Selwyn’s voice seemed to trail off into a happy vagueness. “I don’t think,” said Chester gravely, the odor of the jasmine still in his nostrils—“l don’t think she’s going to turn you out.”

“WILL YOU GIVE ME A FLOWER ?” SAID CHESTER CURIOUSLY.