Rensselaer Republican, Volume 19, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 February 1887 — HE WAS WORTHY. [ARTICLE]

HE WAS WORTHY.

BY LILY CUBBY.

Three ladies wore seated in Agatha Foster’s parlor: Miss Fortescue, large.dark, and of uncertain age, who monopolized the most comfortable arm-chair; Mrs. Becker, shrunken and sandy, who was constantly sliding off the sofa and reinstating herself with a jerk; and Miss Agatha herself, who sat apart from the others, glancing out of the window, as if distressed by their garrulity. Miss Agatha was a fair young woman with a noble head and a countenance expressive of all grace and goodness. Yet at this moment she entertained feelings decidedly hostile to her callers, who had run in with the familiar freedom of fellow-boarders in the average boardinghouse, to chat away the afternoon. At heart they were immensely sorry that Miss Agatha's cousin, Miss Nannie Foster, had not yet returned from the counlry, whither she had gone the day before to pay a visit. Miss Nannie, who combined the qualities of companion and chaperone to Miss Agatha, was more attentive and easily impressed; more sympathetic, these ladies thought. She never sat looking out of the window while they retailed their choicest on dits and “isn’t it awful” for her especial benefit. But then, Miss Nannie was a woman of years. And they still lingered; for the Fosters had the pleasantest rooms in the house. Such carpets! Such Japanese decorations! And the Fosters were people of high standing. There were four of them, Miss Agatha, her two bachelor brothers, ten and a dozen years her senior, and Miss Nannie, who since their parents’ death had kept the children together. The winter day drew to a close, the room grew dusky, ambftiii the ladies lingered. Agatha stirred and coughed. Shrunken Mrs. Becker was narrating. The story she told concerned a woman—poor, defenseless, yet worthy, as Agatha chanced to know. The girl forgot for the moment that she was hostess and they her guests. “That is a cruel, wicked slander!” she cried out. “I wonder you could have listened to it, All’s. Becker, If any one had come to me with such a tale I would have ’’ then she remembered. But the ladies had risen. Miss Fortescue’s cumbrous frame loomed up in the dimness of the late afternoon. Airs. Becker had slipped from the sofa for the last time. “O certainly.” they murmured in concert. “Yes, we are going. There was no intention ot offending,” Agatha breathed more freely. “It seems to me,”' she said, “that it is small business repealing what one’s own good sense—not to mention charitableness —must discredit.”

“Gmtqil l>ye,” said “Miss Fortoseue, savagely. “Good afternoon,” sneered Mrs. Becker. “Good riddance!” said Agatha, completely wearied as the door closed upon the retreat. “To-day of all days,” she said, as she •walked to and fro in the dusk. Presently the door opened. “All in the dark, Agatha?” asked a cheery voice. “I thought you would never come, Nannie,” said the girl, lighting the gas as she spoke. “What is the matter?” “I liaTO just put Miss Forteseue and Mrs. Becker out of the room.” “Dear me! What had they done?” “The same old disgusting gossip. Miss Bruce eats opium; Miss Jones is crazy about a married man; Mrs- Gray holds her step-child to the fire to burn it.” “Well, they get their texts from the newspapers,” said Nannie, calmly, taking off her cloak. “The step-mother, the child, and the fire are inseparable particles. Sometimes there is a flat-ironJieated for torturing purposes. For my part I never would go to that trouble.” Agatha did not respond t® this staid humor.

Miss Nannie went on divesting herself of her wraps, then sat down and looked at her cotisin. “You are pale to-day. Aren’t.you well,” she asked. —— Agatha dropped her eyes # . “Nannie, I have some news for you,” she said, with an effort. “I —last night I—l promised Mr. Peters to marry him.” Silence ensued after this declaration. If Miss Nannie were . surprised or. shocked it Was not apparent. She only sat quietly watching her cousin and, possibly, taking time o collect her thoughts. After some moments —had elapsed she inquired, amiably: ' “iViil, my dear, are you Satisfied that yon will be happy?” ; Agatha flung herself down on a sofa and replied, wearily: “O Nannie, I don’t know. I can’t tell.” “Have you told the boys?” asked Nannie, after another interval of thought.' “I told George this morning,” said Agatha, in a voice heavy with tears. “Lewis was not here. I wish you would tell him.” “And what did George say?” “He only said, ‘I congratulate Peters!’ ” Miss Nannie leaned back in her chair and brought up Mr. Peters for a mental review. Poor little whiffet! To be sure, he had money, some socinl standing, and was fairly intelligent. They had known him a long time, and even felt for him a sort of distant relative’s affection. They wmuld do anything in the world for him. He often took gntha about, to theater, to church, and ut driving or riding. But he was tit teen years her senior,, and his appearance was against him. Miss Nannie reviewed' his had build, his bowed legs, his “wild eve,*”' as" she called’ it,—‘a suspicious eye that was apt to skirmish about the room while its mate regarded you with steadfast respect. Then she turned her thoughts to Agatha, perfect-in fnee and figure, and ennobled by education and accomplishments. Agatha, for whom a Senator bad proposed and a Congressman languished, not to mention lesser adorers! Agatha, who had rejected the Senator because he lacked principle, and the Congressman because he was a widower! Nannie remembered how distressed the girl had felt at being obliged to say “way” to these suitors. She had a peculiar altogether too tender-hearted. 1

By and by Nannie ronsed herself and spoke to her cousin. “I will tell Lewis. And now, my dear, von’d better dress. It is almost dinner time. A little Florid# water will cool your cheeks.” _ 1 “Hark!” cried Agatha; “there he is now —gone into his room.” Nannie rose quickly. “I will tell him at once,” she said, and went out. Agatha crept after her, and heard the dialogue lh.it ensued through the crack of Lewis’ door ajar. “I have news for you,” said Nannie, gently. “Agathn is going to marry Air. Peters!” “O Lord!” cried Lewis, with disgust—and canaor. Agatha returned to her parlor with flamiug clieeks and throbbing heart. ■» But Nannie remained to smooth matters over. “1 suppose we all will feel about the same,” she said, quietly. “Agatha says when she told George he remarked that he congratulated Peters.” “Ok, come, now, I say,” said Lewis, argumentatively. “We can’t let her commit any such foolishness—-a girl with her face and brains. She is too soft-hearted by far. She'd have married all the men who ever proposed if we had let her, and all out of sheer pity. She’d be a tine one to live in—where’s the place where they-praetice polyandry? She couldn’t bear to hurt Peters’ feelings; didn’t want his straight eye to suffuse. Oh, it won’t do at all, you know!” Nannie smiled. “I wouldn’t say much,. Lewis. Agatha is a very peculiar woman. Don’t make her think we are all against him. She has a good deal of force. She tells me she put Airs. Becker and Miss Fortescue out of our parlor to-day. I’ve no doubt she did.” “Sensiblo about that,” said Lewis. “But, all the same, this marriage won’t do at all.” Lewis, though of late quite Englsh iu his way, still displayed at. odd moments the shrewd American force that was his birthright. —. Miss Nannie smiled and slipped a\vay T( Agatha appeared at dinner as composed and gracious as a goddess. George looked dignified, Lewis,“put-out,” and Nannie was • discreetly silent. I Later in the evening George came into their own parlor and sat down by liis sister. “Agatha,” he said, slowly, and with evi- ; dent disrelish, “do you think you did well I to engage yourself without consulting your family?” “I was of age three years ago,” she answered, serenely. “Very true. And Peters is our friend, i But is he just the one for your husband? “What is there against him?” she questioned, unflinchingly. She was not blinded by the blindgod. She knew all her lover’s visible imperfections. But George was not one to stoop to personalities. “Nothing,” he responded, quietly. “Only we have looked very high for you. We have your happiness at heart.” “Aly happiness is not in danger.” George betook himself to his own room, and Lewis took his placa by Agatha. “I suppose I should congratulate,” he began, recklessly, “You do not seem enthusiastic,” said Agatha, recalling his exclamation on first hearing the news. “I can’t help it if I dont!” he answered, impatiently. “You know how proud we are.of -you, Gath, and we can’t he expected to think any man good enough.” She smiled, and ho whs emboldened to proceed. “I don’t believe you knew what you were doing. You don’t love Peters, you only pity him, just as you used to pity the Senator and all the rest. This crooked lit.fe curmudgeon! Why, he’s older than George, and cross-eyed.” She sprang up in a rage. “Never speak so to me again! I forbid it!” then she* rushed off to her chamber. Nannie came to her after awhile. “My dear girl, what is the matter?” “Lewis has been saying such awful things to me.”

“About your engagement? And are you quite sure you have made no mistake?” “Quite sure.” Mr. Peters called bv and by. The boys had gone out. Nannie received him politely but soon excused herself. Agatha should certainly have appreciated such unobtrusive chaperonage. She, felt as if in a dream, Lewis’ cruel words ringing-in her ears. And so she accepted passively his adoration, and was not wholly sorry when he had gone. She retired to her room and wept a little, it is true. But women' are curious creatures at best. However, as the winter slipped away the engagement was announced, and even Agatha’s brother began to feel resigned. The quiet devotion of Norman Peters was rather touching. He treated his betrothed like a goddess. “If,” thought Nannie with softened regret, “if he were only a half-inch taller, to seem of even height with Agatha!” Meanwhile poor Agatha was fretting herself weary of life. A thousand little heartless sarcasms, to which Peters in his great happiness was utterly oblivious, were constantly stabbing her. Night after night she passed in wakeful .agony; the idea of breaking the engagement never occurred to her. She was sure she loved him nnd she realized the depth of his devotion. She endeavored to rise above morbid sensitiveness, telling herself that people would cease their cruel stabbing when they saw that she was fully determined. But she grew thin, and her face wore a hunted expression. Mesdames Becker and Fortescne now began to circulate pretty little stories about her —ingeniously constructed but wholly untruthful romances. Nothing bad, of course, for Agatha was a woman to whom no doubtful mist could cling for a moment; but whispers of “coquetry,” “blighted hopes,” and “last report,” which, blown from lip to lip on the dubious breath of friendship came at last to vex the ears of the Fosters. Agatha only kept silent and grew pale. Lewis, however, one day confronted Miss Fortesque in the hall. Pie was so angry lie quile forgot his English tone,aud manner. “I can tell you, madam, that you must discontinue your talk of my sister,” he cried. Agatha came out of her room. “O, Lewis, dear.” He took her by the arm. “Go back, Gath, I’ve something to settle with this lady. Without a word Miss Forteseue turned and "tied. “I was sorry for her,” said Agatha. “She looked Strguilty and helpless.” “I haven’t much patience with yon,” said her brother. But all. your ways of late are provoking. Ton are going to marry a man you don’t love, because you pity him. For God's sake, why couldn’t you have pitied some one suitable—” “Lewis, if yon case for me at all, you will never speak so again. Ido love Norman. It would kill me to break the engagement.” —— “That's what they all say,” said Lewis, turning away disgustedly. The days slipped by. There had been no date'set yet for the wedding. The. subject was hardly discussed by The family. None but Nannie knew . the terrible tremor in which the girl existed. She was constantly moving about, constantly occupied. Day after day she dragged her cousin off in the hitting sunshine, the moodiness, the chill ior the storm of the springtime, until one last morning when it had been raining stwWj for two or three days,

and the sidewalks were fairly white. It was perilous walking. Agatha slipped once and startled her cousin into a frightened exclamation. The storm abated after a time, the rain became a listless drizzle. The streets became noisier, as in clear weather. A little yellow dog, hurt bv a passing vehicle, limped to the curb with pitiful yelps. “0, see!” cried Agatha, with starting , tears. I “Poor dog, poor dog! I am so sorry!” The yelpsdiol away; the ladies went on. A blind man ciying “Lozenges!” npon the comer detained them a moment. Agatha gave him some trifle. In the next block an old building had been torn away to make placo for a new one. Careless workmen had left the sidewalk unguarded in one place, a misstep from which would have landed one in a deep cellar, upon a pile of stones. As the two women reached this spot they were brought to a sudden halt by outcries and confusion. Down the street and directly ,toward them came a runaway team dragging a splendid carriage. Agatha took an irresolute step forward, then sprang back. •,

“Agatha!” her cousin shrieked, hut too late. 'She lay limp and silent on the stones below. , ***** *** She would live, they said, but sadly crippled and helpless. The spine had been injured. She would henceforth require all care and tenderness. They were crushed by the catastrophe, cousin and brothers. Agatha herself, took it much more calmly. AVhen she had learned the worst, she sent for her betrothed. Nannie and the toys were in the room at tlie time, but withdrew to the opposite side. “Dear,” she said gently. “I am maimed for life. I may never walk again. I sent for you to give you back your freedom.” Norman Peters grew even paler. He sank on his knees at the bedside and covered his face. “Agatha, dear Agatha, dear Agatha!” he sobbed over and over. “As if I’d let you, as if I’d let you! Don’t cast me off,' now!” Across the room three persons were listening. They looked at each other, then Lewis strode swiftly toward his sister’s bed. “Peters,” he said, “we haven’t behaved well toward you. I, myself, have acted contemptible. If you will forgive and forget, it will he very different hereafter. ” Then Peters, who had risen, stood silent and bewildered, till through a mist the room grew Suddenly bright, for they had encircled him and clasped his hands with loving warmth. And Agatha, watching, raised a feeble hand to stay her own tears. “I never thought,” she sobbed aloud, “I never thought that I could be so happy!"