Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 August 1908 — The REAL AGARHA [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The REAL AGARHA

BY EDITH HUNTINGTON MASON

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SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I.—Lord Wilfred Vincent ud Archibald Terhune arc Introduced at the opening of the etory. In England, the tatter relating the tale. The pair on an outing mIM their train and seeking recreation meet “the Honorable Agatha Wyckhoff,” whose hand Is much sought after, because of her wealth. On visiting the Wyckhoff castle they are Introduced to two other girls, both known as Agatha Wyckhoff, . CHAPTER n.— At dinner three other Agatha Wyckhoffs are Introduced and the plot revealed. Tho deceased stepfather. In an eccentric moment, made hie will so that the real Agatha, heiress to his fortune and tho castle at Wye, England, might wed her affinity. Thus Mrs. Armlstead, chaperon, was In duty bound to keep the real Agatha’s Identity unknown and suitors were Invited to tryout for the hand of the heiress- An attempt by Terhune to gather a clew from the chaperon falls. CHAPTER lll.—Terhnne finds old boolr containing picture of a former Baroness Wyckhoff, which Is exactly like Agatha Sixth, whom he is courting. Vincent entertains them all and while riding with Agatha Fifth she confesses her love for him and also that she is the real heiress. He spurns her proposal. CHAPTER IV.—Many clews to''ldentity of the real Agatha prove fruitless. Agatha Fifth later confessing she Is not the heiress. CHAPTER V.—More apparently unfailing clews materialize. Vincent confesses love for Mrs. Armistead’s secretary, Miss Marsh, who told Terhune she is married. They had been gone some 15 minutes when It occurred to me that it might do my head good to go out and ret some fresh air. Besides which I had begun to regret that I had permitted Vincent to go to church the Only esquire of such a galaxy of beauty. So 1 put on my hat and. strolled out over the lawn and down the long drive, an# before I -knew it I had reached the bottom of the hilly road and had Bet out over the fields. The church party had gone by the way of the path over the fields, for that was a shorter route than the main road. As I walked quickly along the wellbeaten path between the thickets I stopped suddenly anfl stooped to pick up a small" dust-covered object which proved to be a prayer book. “One of those careless girls has dropped it,” I Bald to myself, for they had all carried them. Opening it to find the owner’s name, I was much agitated to read on the flyleaf this Inscription: “To my daughter Agatha, from her father, Fletcher Boyd,” and the date, 1900. It was, then, a gift which Fletcher Boyd had made to his daughter only two years before his death. I was wild with excitement In a minute. I would keep the book, and some time when all the girls were gathered together 1/would announce that I had it in my possession and see If one of them did not betray herself by asking me for it. But Fate decreed that I should make my test of the prayer book more speedily, for I spied in the distance the white figure of a girl hastening back. The path was dusty and 4he sun was shining right in her face, so I trusted she had not seen me, and, putting the little volume down just where 1 had found It, I Jumped behind the bushes. The owner of the book was looking for her property. On she came, running slowly and glancing eagerly from side to side of the pathway. As she came opposite me she stopped and snatched up the book, and when she had run back again the conviction that the Honorable Agatha was no other thsm Agatha Fourth was forced in upon me.

So roused was I by this event that 1 turned my steps homeward at once. Suspicion had now fallen on every one of the six Agathas, but this —this was the most convincing of proofs! That night I could hardly wait for the end of the evening, so that I could drag Vincent into my room and disclose to him my final and greatest discovery. I was so full 0f excitement over it, besides feeling a certain pride in my wit and sagacity which had led to the discovery of so many important clews, that 1 was rather disappointed when Vincent received my ilTsclosure with Indifference. “At it again. Arch." he said, rather gloomily, as he sat cross-legged before my fire in extreme deshabille, and Bmoking his vile pipe. “What is the use? ! should think you’d get tired of pursuing the elusive gold. I admire your patience, my boy, but 1 don’t take any more stock in this ‘clew’ than I did in your others. When you think that you have now fastened suspicion upon each one of the six fair ladies who have been christened Agatha I marvel at the sanguine temperament which permits you to place so much importance on this last find of yours.” He stopped, and I answered him rather sarcastically, as I didn’t like the gentle ridicule-of his tone or his lack of enthusiasm.' “It seems to me,” I said, “that considering how you’ve spent your time, my dear boy, you are a very poor per_son to look down upon my efforts to turn this adventure of ours to some , account. The fact that I have kept .my eyes opep and used those faculties of penetration and observation of -which I am the natural possessor to discover a piece of information which mights prove of great value, not only to myself, but also to you—-this fact, I say, Vincent, ought hardly to bring upon me your derision as well as your lack of sympathy.” I don't mind ad-

mining tnat l reany ten nurt, ana Vincent saw that I did. He took his pipe out of his mouth and looked at me with those big, truthful eyes of his so penitently that I smiled Inwardly: then he gathered up his long limbs from my hearthrug and came and ensconced himself at my feet as I sat in my easy chair. "Well there, then,” he said, patting my hand as if I'd been an old woman or a small child. "Poor old Arch’bald, did I make it cross? Well, It was a shame!” And he smiled at me with such a mixture of contrition and fun that I was obliged after a short struggle to laugh unconstralnedly. "Well, I suppose you will begin operations according to your latest clew to-morrow?” he laughed at me. 1 did not answer him, and silence fell upon us. 1 was pondering over the problem and did not look at Vincent for a long while, but when I did I saw that his face wore a troubled, hopeless look, and that his whole attitude indicated profound dejection. “Vincent,” I said, leaning over him, “what's the trouble?” I had been noticing of late that he had been subject to fits of melancholy altogether out of keeping with his character, and 1 hal come to the conclusion that he nad some trouble on his mind. I wanted to know what it was, so that I could help him. When I spoke he turned his head slowly and looked at me a moment solemnly, then smiled faintly, the very ghost of that splendid, boyish smile of his, so that it went to my heart.

"Oh, Arch,” he burst out, “everything’s wrong! But It's not my fault; how could I help loving her?” 1 was amazed. What was the boy talking about, and who was it that he loved? “Yes, sir,” he went on; “I met her four miles from town carrying an old beggar-woman's bundle because tt*9 poor old thing had hurt her foot. And when 1 drew up dogcart and asked her to get in and take the bundle too, she shook her head, and, by Jove, she wouldn’t get In till I let the old beg-gar-woman get in, too!” Vincent turned to me positively radiant. “Ah, Terhune!” he cried, “you don't know what it is. I love her so!” And as he stood there, his face transfigured, I grasped in a moment the meaning of the whole thing and the understanding struck like a blow at my heart and I knew how dear the welfare of this boy was to me. Somehow, Vincent represents to me the things I might have been, and am not, the things I might have won, and havb lost; he represents the first flush of my own youth. And now that I had wasted those opportunities to lead the selfish existence of the average bachelor, I found a certain Joy In again experiencing those first throbs of living that had been mine, in the person and life of young Vincent. As he stood before me, glowing with feeling, I felt that it was for me to wipe that look from his face, cruel as it seemed, and my anger at the woman who had so deceived the boy by withholding from him the knowledge that she was married helped me to do the deed.

"Vincent,” I said, slowly, “do' you mean—do I gather from your ravings that you honestly—er—care for this person?” 1 had risen to my feet, and as I spoke Vincent’s whole expression changed in a flash. “Your inference is perfectly correct," he said. His face went white and there was war in his tone, for he perceived that I meant trouble. The necessity of saving the boy I loved from the consequences of his own folly took possession of me, and I was full of rage at Vincent and at that conscienceless woman in the gray gown who had entrapped him. “You fool,” I said, putting my face close to his square, cleft chin, “why do you throw away your chance in life like that? What do you want to let yourself get entangled with an adventuress for? Don’t you know the woman’s married? She confessed to having one husband; she may have a dozen, for all I know!” The inevitable happened, for Vincent, with a half-articulate cry like a wild animal, raised his clenched fist and struck at me. Fortunately for us both, he struck wildly in his anger and I caught the blow on my arm. “You liar!” he shouted, “oh, you liar!” and in a rage that shook him from head to foot he rushed from the room and slammed the door.

I was sick at heart as I stood staring after him to think that matters had come to such a pass between Vincent and myself. Although no man can hear himself called a liar, even by his best friend, without resenting it, still, when the first flash of my wrath had passed, I forgave him for it, for I knew that the heat of his passion would permit no satisfaction but Violence, and, of course, if he really cared for the woman, the words I had used were about the most Insulting possible. However, I had done what seemed to be my duty, and I only reproached myself bitterly for not having told him of the secretary’s marriage before his unhappy Infatuation had gained such headway. But he had disarmed my first suspicions and I had never

dreamed that anything so serious was on foot. That was a restless night for me and it was dawn before I fell into a light sleep. (To (be continued.)