Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 August 1908 — The REAL AGATHA [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The REAL AGATHA

PICTVRES BY WEIL WALTERS TRET , CAMPBELL ALESmRE WILSON

BYNOPBIB. CHAPTER I.—Lord Wllfrtd Vincent *ad Archibald Terhune are introduced at the opening of the itory, in England, the latter relating the tale. The pair on an •ntlng miss their train and seeking recreation meet "the Honorable Agatha Wyckhoff," whoso hand is much sought after, because of her wealth. On ▼lotting the Wyckhoff castle they are introduced to two other girls, both known as Agatha Wyckhoff. CHAPTER ll,—At dinner three other Agatha Wyckhoffs are Introduced and the plot revealed. The deceased stepfather, In an eccentric moment, made hie will so that the real Agatha, heiress to his fortune and the 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.—Terhune finds old books eontalnlng picture of a former Baroness Wyckhoff, which is exactly like Agatha Sixth, whom ho is courting. Vincent entertains them all and while riding with Agatha Fifth she confesses her love for him and also that she la the real heiress. Ho spurns her proposal. CHAPTER IV.—Many clews to identity 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. CHAPTER VI. When we met at breakfast the next morning there were no signs of the breach between Vincent and myself except his unusual pallor, which suggested |o me that he, too, had spent a sleepless night. The girls were inclined to joke our solemn faces, but so long as the meal passed off without disclosing that something was amiss between us I did not care. All day we saw nothing of each other, but this was not unusual, as we always pursued different courses. I spent most of my time with Agatha Fourth, the only honorable, whom I found to be a really delightful girl and certainly the possessor of remarkable musical talent. In the evening the others went out io row on the lake and left Agatha Fourth alone with me. She sat at the piano and played everything she could think of, while I lay on a broad divan where I could watch her and listen to the soft music. I suppose that my bad night had something to do with the fact that I was boor enough to fall asleep while the beautiful Agatha Fourth was playing for me. Certainly I know that I was guilty of that appalling rudeness, for I was suddenly brought to a state of consciousness by the sound of a clock striking. I counted the strokes mechanically—there were 12. I must have slept for hours, and, sure enough, the room was dark except for the firelight, and my slighted hostess was gone from the piano stool. As I was about to rise I heard voices, and, turning, I saw on the other side of the piano a man and a girl. The man was Vincent, of course, and I thought, as I looked at him sitting full in the bright firelight, that he had never looked so handsome. His evening dress showed off his superb athletic form to the best advantage, and his face was fresh and strong, with the bronze of his tan extending to the roots of his hair, which was cut close to conceal a wave in the gold of It. It occurred to me at once that his face had lost much of Its boyishness and he looked every inch a man. But it took me some time to realize that the girl who sat with him was none other than the secretary. At first I could not tell what It was that had so changed her, whether it was her shimmering white evening gown, or the gleaming bracelets, until at last It came to me In a flash that It was nothing more nor less than the glory of her hair that had wrought the transformation. I had never seen the secretary with her hair done any way but plainly and unbecomingly, but now It was dressed as I knew It should have been dressed long ago. She wore it low on her long, slender neck, rolled at the sides and rippling loosely back from her forehead, in shining waves and little willful rings held In place with big shell combs. And when at last It dawned upon me that it was really the secretary who was Vincent’s companion, so breathless was I with amaze that at .first I hardly realized that I could hear perfectly what they were saying. And when I did realize it, I Wanted to rise and let them know that I was there, but on second thought I saw that I must have been there for so long that they would never believe that I had not heard the whole of their conversation. Furthermore, it occurred to me that it might be well if I stayed to hear what Miss Marsh had to say lor herself. “And so I calmly took the dress and put it on, just to amuse myself,” I heard the secretary sayjng, “and did any hair the way the others do theirs, you know. And It was so late I thought ho one would find me here.” “And If I hadn’tJeft my pipe on the table no one would have found you, and I—-think what I should have missed!” Vincent’s voice was eloquent. ■ —--———— - — r —■ ■— “Of course it ▼»• vain of me.

very vain,” she went on; “but you know when a girl has to earn her own living she gets a little tired of all work and no play, and sometimes the 'impulse to pretend she’s fortunate and happy and—and pretty”—the secretary flushed under Vincent's gaze as she faltered the last word, and hurried on —“and like the others—-Is so strong that it tempts her to deck herself out In borrowed plumes and sit tn an empty drawing room at 12 o’clock at night enjoying the illusion for a brief hour.” “No,” said Vincent, softly, “I don’t think it was vain; I think It was the most natural thing in the world, and——and I’m glad you did It,” he ended, rather lamely. The secretary laughed, and I wondered what there was about the sound that made Vincent rave over It. Then, as his eyes wandered to her hair, he sighed. “Why slghest thou, oh, furnace?” she smiled at him. "I was just thinking about something.” “About what?” “You don’t want to hear?” “Ah! But I do!” “All right, then.” He turned on her swiftly. “I was jtist looking,” he said, “at your hair. I’ll bet the angels have halos like that." The secretary blushed. “IV* horrid hair,” she said, giving it a vindictive little pull that only brought It to a more charming disarray. “I hate the color of it. Why, when I was a child I never could bear to have the heroines of the fairy tales have a shining head of golden hair, and I used to think mine was gold, and one day when I said so and was told, ‘No, your hair is red, not gold,’ I cried for days afterward.”

"You poor little thing!” he said, bls face as full of sympathy as if those tears had just been shed. And for the life of her the secretary couldn’t help her lip trembling, though she knew it was absurd and was very much ashamed of herself. Vincent broke the silence first. "We might do a little on the ‘Dead Barons of Wyckhoff,’ ” he suggested. It was evident that our affair of last night was uppermost in his mind, for his air was very abstracted. “No, thank you, my lord. This is my evening off. I am no longer Miss Marsh, the secretary, but Miss Marsh, the lady of leisure.” “I didn’t think of it as work, and I thought perhaps you didn’t, either, when we did it together.” “Little boys shouldn’t think; it's a bad nabit,” she said, severely; "besides, you talk like T in the 'Dolly Dialogues.’ " At this Vincent's face grow desperate, and I saw that she had goaded him into asking her the Question that

naa been on his mind all flay, and i nearly fell off the sofa In my efforts to hear without being seen. “Do I?” he said. “Well, that’e because I’ve something wanting to ask you all day long. It’s something very personal, and, of course, I’ve no right—that Is, you 1 won’t think so,” the boy was stumbling pitifully, “but I’ve got to know; It’s so hard to believe that you would do it deliberately. Is it true?” “Lord Wilfred,” said the girl, up, “you must speak more clearly if you want me to understand what you have been saying.” “It’s this,” said Lord Wilfred, facing her abrupty and terribly In earnest. “Someone told me last night that you were a married woman. Is It true?” I could not see the face of the secretary, but I could not help perceiving the ring of truth in her voice. “I’m not married," she said, simply "I told Mr. Terhune so because I wanted to disabuse him of a false impression he was laboring under. But what is it to you?” “This,” said Wilfred, and he leaned toward her suddenly and grasped her hands and put his face within an inch of her —I could see by the firelight Its look of determination and Ineffable relief. The secretary gave a little cry and drew back. I conjectured that Wilfred was on the point of making an irretrievable ass of himself, so I interrupted proceedings by knocking a book off the sofa and rising to my feet. At the first sound of the book falling the two had jumped to their feet and stood, the girl shrinking close to Wilfred and Wilfred with his arm thrown around her. “Who goes there?” he said, sternly, as he discovered my figure In the gloom, and “Ah! —it’s you, Terhune,” as I came into the circle of light, in a tone I hope I may never hear from him again. As the secretary saw who It was she sprang away and was gone from the room in a second. “Well,” he said, with a sneer, as the curtains closed behind her, “eavesdropper, meddling as usual. What can I do for you?” I sat down on the stool. “Sit down,” I said, with quiet authority, “and wfe’ll talk it over.” He sat down. In moments like this he forgets his independence and remembers that at one time he used to obey me habitually. I wanted to comfort him, but I knew my dutv better. "Vincent.” I said, ap-

pealingly, “don’t you see it Won’t do? She’s no match for you—a girl with no family and no money, and of her star tion in life. Give it up, I implore you. Think of your father. They* has never been a mesalliance in the family; it would break his heart.” Vincent raised his head. “Mrs. Armlstead says her family is perfectly respectable,” he said. “I asked her.” “Perfectly respectable!” I repeated, contemptuously. "Think of a Vincent marrying a girl who has nothing in her favor but the fact that her family was ■perfectly respectable!*” (To be continued.)

AGATHA SIXTH.