Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 November 1882 — THE WIDOW HONITON. [ARTICLE]

THE WIDOW HONITON.

It was a terrible shock to the social system of Cloverdale when Mrs. Honiton — widow Honiton a few rebellious young ladies tried to christen he.-, but the title didn't stick, I promise .you—returned to that delightful little village, “to make her home once more among us,” as she delicately phrased it. If she had come hack looking wretched and higgr.r I—exliau ted, as to her body with nights of watching by the bedside of the late Mr Honiton, anil wearied, as to her mind, by long anxiety and grief—if she had come back that way, then, indeed, the young ladies of our village would have been charmed to see her, and would have called upon her condblingly and spoken of her with pity as poor Mrs. Honiton. A widow faithful to the memfJry of her departed spouse is an object’ 1 - of universal sympathy, and none would have been more glad to tender it to her than the young ladies of our vill age. But alas! Mrs. Honiton ■was as beautiful, as radiant, as fashionably dressed, and apparently as young as ever. It was evident she had . not been plunged into any violent grief; she had not cried her eyes out and spoiled her beauty; she had not been left destitute to give others the luxury of commiserating and helping her; and, worse than all, she wore so very natty and retiring a widow’s cap that you could scarcely detect that emblem of bereavement. I don’t exactly know what an invisible peruke is, but Mrs. Honiton’s head-gear was certainly an invisible widow’s cap. It was considered quite scandalous that she rhould have got over her calamity so easily.

It is true, the deceased Honiton was known to have been anything but a desirable companion or an estimable man, and we couldn’t help acknowledging that his widow was well rid of him. But still, a decent qhow of regret would have been only proper; and io call a carefully-composed head-dress like that a widow’s cap was the very caricature of mourning. When she appeared in it for the first time in church she .'looked lovelier than ever. The merest suspicion of crimped white muslin, , creeping out between her black bonnet and her go’den hair, gave an additional piquancy to her beauty, and then her weeds were all so fashionably made and so elegantly worn that her figure really seemed to be improved by them. Her pink complexioh stood out in charming contrast against her black crape bonnet; and this last-mentioned portion of her dress was a dainty cockleshell article, so neat and natty that you might have imagined it to* be a wedding bonnet dyed black. Her black bodice fitted to perfection, and the crape mantle which hung from her shoulders was so contrived as to show that her waist was as it had ever been; when she lifted up her crape flounces and exposed a tiny, neatly-fitting kid boot with a graceful curve in the instep and military heels, Miss Nipper was heard to say that she had a great mind to go and slap her face. In fact, Mrs. Honiton in her widow’s weeds was a much more-attractive person than she had ever been in all the dazzling splendor of white silk. Her first Sunday at church proved this conclusively. The single young men never took their eyes off her, and indeed a good many of the married ones, including Theodore and Adolphus, could not help their glances straying in the direction of the beautiful relict. Do you wonder that the women folks were indignant? They would have been more than women, more than mortal, if they had not. They had suffered already at the hands of this ensnaring siren; they had got rid of her, as they fondly hoped, forever, and here she ■was again troubl ng their waters as of yore. Her cap was assailed at once. It was a heirtl ss mockery to put on a thing like that, and her husband only de d six weeks, and she ought to be ashamed of herself! Mrs. Honiton did not appear at all ashamed. She paid close attention to the service, and slid all the responses, and sang all the psalms, and, with her calm, pale face and placid eyes turned pwarr, looked like anam el—-at lea t that is what young Parkinson thought—Parkinson, who neve, closed ether his eyes or his mouth since the fair vision burst upon him at the very commencement of the service. I suspect there were no* many young men in the church that Sunday, who, if they had been questioned, could give a very satisfactory account of the sermon, or even were able to say what the text was. The eloquence of the preacher was no match for the more attractive metal of Mrs. Honiton’s piquant beauty. If there had been a sermon in that fair young face, the single men might have been better for coming to church that

morning; as it was, they dispersed to talk of nothing else for the rest of the day but the young widow’s golden hair, and blue eyes, and the coral lips that looked so fascinating by contrast with the black veil and the glimpse of white muslin. The maids and matrons were justified in being indignant. It was very wrong. The clergyman himself felt the rivalry, as he felt it on* many a subsequent Sunday. But what canid he do ? He could not go and scold the widow for looking-pretty, and it was no part of his duty as a divine to determine the fashion and proportion of u widow’s cap. Miss Nipper, if she could have had her way, would have settled, the matter by tearing it into shredsand stamping upon it; though, as remarked by Miss Margaret Thompson, there was not much to stamp upon. The old state of affairs was re-estab-lished as thoroughly and completely as though Mrs. Honiton had never been. Mrs. Ifoniton was not only more attractive than ever, but she had learned many artful and coquettish ways. She combined the privileges of a widow with the fascinations of the girl to that extent that it really seemed a positive happiness to be left <■ widow at that age with all those As a maiden she would have no F L—'e to - practice the ensnaring arts which she now put in force in virtue of the fact that she had been lost her husband. I fancy that Mr. Weller’s experience must have been among widows of this stamp, bouncing, fresh-faced widows at coaching houses, who set their caps—far back—at him, and regulated his liquor and generally superintended him. I don’t wonder that the burden of his advice to his son was to beware of widows. The female villagers witnessed with dismay their eligible young men once more falling doWn at the feehof the fl ixen idol, following her wherever she went, sauntering behind her to admire her figure, walking on before her to catch her smile, swarming around her at parties like flies round a sug ir-cask, and -rom these out-door devotions turning to the smarting bosoms of tlieir families to rave of the bewitching widow. Had our village been ancient Athens, the widow’s name would have been written on a shell, had it been Scotland in the sixteenth century the widow would have been burnt for a witch. It certainly was very provoking. She had spoilt the prospects of one generation, and now' she was back again interfering with the prospects of another. A year or two makes a vast difference when the ago of a boy or girl is verging toward the close of the teens. Fifteen a girl, 16 a woman; 20 a boy, 21 a man. So in the course of two years school-girls have become women, school-boys have become men. The “idol” had come back to catch both in her net. Such are the privileges of having become a widow, young, of course, providing that you arc pretty in the bargain. Sex makes all the difference. Widows aro not popular, however handsome they may be. You never sOb girls running after a bereaved male, unless, indeed, they are old girls, who are beginning to despair. Then, of course, as drowning men catch at straws, so aging maids, when they see the torch of Hymen flickering, will clutch at any hand that is held out to them. Such was the state of affairs when Mr. Charles Bevington came to reside in our village. Mr. Charles Bevington was a rising young lawyer, a handsome, dashing young fellow, with black whiskers and an easy, nonchalant address. Physically, he w'as a sort of prize man, a specimen of humanity who would have carried off the gold medal at an exhib tion of his species. He had a broad forehead and a broad chest; his . frame was muscular and strongly knit; his hair was curled all over his well-set head; and his eyes beamed with vigor and vivacity. With all this he had a ready tongue, a wonderful faculty for talkin r rattling nonsense ; and he was a bachelor. He was a person who, as soon as seen, provoked the flattering commentary, “Wlrat a handsome man!" His good looks were so strongly developed, and, as a whole, so complete and undeniable, that even married ladies, in the presence of their husbands, could not restrain their admiration; and husbands could hear their remark,? with comp’acency, for it was a startling fact which nobody could deny. It was as natural to say that Mr. Charles Bevington was handsome as it would have been to say that a man seven feet high was talk Like all the others, Mr. Bevington became attracted by the beauty of the widow, and, very shortly after his arrival in the tillage, he came to me ravi g about her. “I wish you would marry her.” I said. Mr Bevington was startled at my coming upon him plump at the first word with such a wish as this.

“Why—how—what do you mean?” he stammered.' J “I m an exactly what I say,” T repl ed. “I wish you wou'd marry Mrs. Honiton, for thereby you Would do the village a signal service. ” “I should have thought quite the contrary,” he replied, “fir all the young fellows are mad after her.” “That’s the mischief ” I said. “Mischief! I really don’t understand you.” “ Why, ‘he fact is, Mrs. Honiton monopolizes the atbmt on of all the young men, and the other young ladies have no one to make love to t 'em. If Mrs. Honiton were married, five or six eligible part es won d be let 1 >ose from her train to go and court elsewhere. Our damsels are languishing for beaux, and 'all on account of this fascinating widow.” “Well,” he said, “I don’t wonder at that.”

“No,” I add, “bit the young ladies wonder at it, and, what’s more, they don’t like it; and if you will only go and marry Honiton out of the way, I am sure they will subscribe for a testimonial to you.” “Are you really serious?” he said. “Perfectly so,” I replied; “in fact I would marry her myself out of pity for the poor girls, only for a trifling obstacle, of which you are aware, that I am married already.” • “ Has she money ?” he asked. “Lots/ I replied. “Then,” he said, “there is no peed to ask more questions, for I don’t require you or any one else to tell me that she is as beautiful as an angel. By Jove! I’ll take your advice and stick to her.” “Do,” said I, “and if you only win the widow’s heart, you will at the same time win the hearts of all the unmarried ladies in the village. Maidens and matrons will be ready to praise you.” “In that case,” he said, “I shall step into a perfect mine of affection. Well, I will gojn for it, at any rate.” “Yes,” I said, “do; go in and win.” Mr. Bevington did go in for it. He laid siege to the widow immediately, much to the indignation and disgust of Ji er train of admirers, who looked upon the encroachment of the tall, handsome barrister as something unfair and entirely disproportionate. When Mr. Bevington dashed into the midst of them, and carried the widow off in triumph his rivals fell off timidly, and looked up at him as much as to say, “ Why don't you compete with one of your own size?” The widow, however, was by no means inclined to encourage a monopoly of herself, and still continued to distribute her smiles with impartiality. The consequence was that her many admirers held on for some time, and did their best to dispute the ground with the handsome barrister; but it was very discouraging work. The lawyer generally got the best of it, and at such times the widow would look at her train and shrug her pretty shoulders, as much as to say, “It is really not my fault. I try to give you all a chance, and, if you let this dashing, black-whiskered man cut you out, why, you have only yourselves to blame.” Mrs. Honiton’s followers began to drop off one by one, and the female villagers looked up. - Mr. Webber, the cotton-broker, was the first to relax his hold and sink into the waters of despair; then Capt. Jarvis, then young Jenkins, the Alderman's son, and two or three more, until the prize was disputed by only two—Mr. Bevington and Mr. Joseph Perkins, a mild little gentleman, whose stipking up to Mrs. Honiton had always been regarded as like his impudence. As some half-dozen of Mrs. Honiton’s admirers had now been detached for other service, the village was in a humor to be amused at the pretensions of “little” Perkins, particularly as little Perkins had only $2,000 a year, and was short, and by no means what the ladies call handsome. Little Perkins h d another fault—or, at" least he exhibited certain traits of character which are a positive disadvantage when placed in competition with physical beauty and dash—Perkins was amiable, gentle and unobtrusive in his manners, kind and generous of disposition, and, on all occasions, highly considerate of the feelings of others 1 . And, because he was all this and wasn’t six feet high, and hadn’t black .whiskers, and didn’t bounce and talk loud, the girls called him a “molly.” It is the same in the matrimonial market as in the shop or the bazaar—it is the showy article that takes. Women see a gaudy man, all dazzle and bright color, and they say at once, “I’ll take this article, please,” without stopping to inquire if he will w'ash, if he will wear and if his colors are fast. So the village laughed at the pretensions of little Mr. Perkins, and of course Mr. Bevington was in every respect above seriously regarding so insignificant a person as a rival. In fact, he was amused wi h the “little man,” and liked to “trot him out,” as he , expressed it, before the widow. And the widow seemed to enjoy the fun, and was forever sending* Perkins to fetch and carry for her. If, when she was sitting beside the dashing Mr. Bevington, she happened to drop her handkerchief, she would call to Perkins to pick it up for her, and Bevington would quietly keep his seat and allow Perkins to perform the office. Everybody pitied Perkins and w ondered that he could be such a fool. But Mr. Bevington was® suddenly called away upon business, and Mr. Perkins seized the opportunity to make an offer to the widow. He fell upon his knees, vowed he loved her to distraction, and swore he would never be happy without her. Mrs. Honiton rejected him, and actually laughed at him. Poor little Perkins w r ent home and took to his bed. In the meantime the handsome young lawyer returned, and, hearing of Perkins’declaration, was immensely amused and told the story everywhere with great gusto and delight. One day shortly after this Bevington called upon me with an invitation to an evening party at Mrs. Honiton’s house. “Well,” I said, “I presume you have done it; gone in and won, as I advised you.” “Well,”.he said, “I think I may safely say 1 have.” < “And it is all Settled,” I said. “Well, not exactly,” he said; "shehas some ’‘criiples about giving her consent so soon after her—her bereavement, which is quite right and proper, you know', and I like her all the better for it; but it’s all right.” “Ah! doesn’t like the idea of serving up the uneral baked mefits at the wed-

ding tables,” I remarked. “Precisely, and wants to wear out the black shoes; but you will come to the party, won’t you? I want you to be there particularly, for we are going to have a lark with little Perkins.” “What!” I Said, “will he be there after what has occurred?” “There is the lark,”he said; “observe the date of the party, the Ist of April; w e are going to make an April fool of him.” I asked how they intended to proceed. “ Oh! the simplest thing in the world,” he said; “I have written a letter to Perkins, as if from Mrs. Honiton, inviting him to the party, and giving him to believe that she relents toward him and is anxious that he should renew his addresses.” “Does Mrs. Honiton know of it ?” I asked. “Oh! yes; of course she does, and enters into the joke with anticipation of' rare fun. What a lark it will be to see little Perkins hoaxed!” “It will, indeed,” I said, “and I certainly shall be there to see.” I went to the party on the Ist of April, and, arriving rather early, found Mr. Bevington and the widow concocting an elaboration of the plot for making an April fool of Perkins. It was arranged that Mrs. Honiton should give Perkins great encouragement, and lead him to a second declaration, and that the guests should all come in at the moment, and find Perkins on his knees at her feet. I thought this was going rather too far, and was. somewhat surprised that Mrs. Honiton should be so to join in so heartless a plot; but, as all the guests who were in the secrelj looked upon it as a great piece of fun, I said nothing, and let matters proceed. Perkins arrived, was announced and was ushered into the drawing room in a faultless evening suit, evidently purchased for the occasion. He went right up to Mrs. Honiton. shook her by the hand, and looked his thanks with an expression of honest earnestness that made me ashamed of myself for having in the remotest way entered into the conspiracy against him. I could not have imagined Mrs. Honiton to be so consummate an actress. She returned his warm grasp in the most impressive manner, and put on an expression of delight and pleasure which it would have been impossible to suspect. Bevington was holding by the mantel-pieee, convulsed with suppressed laughter. Mrs. Honiton saw him, and frowned gravely, sustaining her part to perfection. When Bevington could control his laughter, he went up to Perkins and whispered words of encouragement in his ear, and all the evening he followed him about, muttering such things as “Faint heart never won fair lady,” “Fortune favors the brave,” “Go in and win.” “She loves you, Perkins.” The moment came. It was after supper and after the first quadrille. Mrs. Honiton, who had been Perkins’ partner, led him out of the drawingroom into an adjoining apartment. Bevington gave the initiated the signal, and we followed. Mr. Perkins and Mrs. Honiton were walking up and down the room, arm in arm, talking softly. Every now and then we could hear Perkins make mention of his “heart,” his “devotion,” his “long attachment,” his “ unalterable devotion.” Mrs. Honiton was silent, and looked modestly, with admirable art. Perkins handed her to a chair. He sat down beside her; he whispered more words of love—he fell upon his knees at her feet. “Now is the time,” said Bevington, and he rushed into the room and burst into a roar of laughter. Perkins rose in haste and confusion. Mrs. Honiton rose also, but looked calm and serious. She turned coldly to Bevington and said: “Pray, what are you laughing at, sir?” “Capital! capital!” cried Bevington; “how admirably she acts her part!” “Mr. Bevington,” said Mrs. Honiton, in the same cold, earnest manner, “the part I am acting is one in which I am prompted by my heart and my inclination, and not by your cruel and unmanly designs. Mr. Perkins has made me an offer of his band, and I accept it, confident that he also bestows u -on me a heart capable of love, capable of feeling and capable of kindness and generosity.” Mr. Bevington was still trying to laugh, but it was a little on the wrong side of the mouth now. Mrs. Honiton’s acting was a little too deep, foo subtle, too profound for him. She continued : “You must remember, Mr. Bevington, I am a widow, and that I am privileged, while very young, to acquire experience of your sex. The experience has not come too late for my I have thought it possible,’sir, that a person who has acted with such deliberate and wanton cruelty to the most kind-hearted and inoffensive of men might at some future time feel no scruple in practicing that cruelty upon a defenseless woman; and I have thought it most probable that a man who has invariably, and under many trying circumstances, shown himself to possess all the qualities which make up the true gentleman will prove himself to be a kind and devoted husband. Sr, I have made my choice.” Anti Mrs. Honiton gave her hand to Perkins, led him into the ball-room am mg the company, and there openly i nnounced to her guests that she had m ide choice of a husband. And so Mr. Perkins, ins ead of being made an April fool, was r ade the happiest man alive. And th village wondered, and refused to bel eve its eyes, until it haw Mr. and Mrs. Perkins roll away in the bridal chariot.