Rensselaer Republican, Volume 22, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 September 1889 — TOO LATE. [ARTICLE]

TOO LATE.

A Story of St. Valentine’s Day. CHAPTER VI (Continued). “I think,” his sister continued: ■‘that a man’s nature is essentially different from a woman’s, grander in some things, infinitely smaller in others. His own love seems to fill his Use, satisfying him by the measure it gives more than by that it receives, and so, by a paradox, it is selfish. IrtVA-lQ- Tint Li ivnl XT ITI IT, XC _L tuv lUtu IB uUu uill'llUlV 111 1 <1:5x711, xtT lET dual: a woman’s heart would wither if love did not come in as freely as it went out. Andrew, as well marry an abstraction. It seems to me you would cage a wild bird for its plumage, and turn a careless ear to its song. What is it you love in Nell? Is it her beauty, her gracious womanhood, or what? ’ “Janet, it is just herself.” “No, Andrew, you, have missed that. Nell’s ‘self’ is far beyond your ken.” “Then how could it have stooped to Lyon Leslie? He loved many things far better than Nell Thanet. Then will you tell me why she loved him?” “Why did she love him?—curious fool, be still; Is human love the growth of human will?’ ”

And, feeling that she could not bring her argument to a logical conclusion, and so convince her brother, for logic had no place in the subject, Janet, with that unanswerable quotation, abandoned the topic. A glance assured Nell that her old acquaintance Stubbs was beyond human aid. He did not seem to have many hours to live. With much tenderness, she told him she could do nothing for him—that no one could. He replied that he had an inner conviction that his case was hopeless; but that he had had an idea a woman doctor, being “out of the common like,” might know something out of the common—it was a chance, he said; and then he smiled a wan smile, adding—- “ And I’m one of a chancy lot, you know well." After a pause, he added—- “ But I always minded how’ you got ‘Dick’ the Squire’s red terrier,through that bad turn he took of asuddint,and which we thought was poison; but as you said as was nothing but a spell of indigestion along of eating the pig’s liver he stole. I said at the time to my missus that you’d make a rare vet. An’ I was right, only you practises on two-legged animals.”, He was silent for a few moments, as if in thought, and his eyes were shut. Nell epoke some earnest words of counsel and hope; but he did not respond. Then she took his hand to bid

'Turn farewell. ~~ > with a deprecating look in his dim eyes, “I never laid a hand on Nettle. I was faithful to every boss as was trusted to me, and, if a man’s done his duty to his master here, mayhap his Master up there”—pointing upwards—“won’t be so hard on him on account of other little matters. ” “Never mind the good you have done, Stubbs,” said Nell, gently. “Only be sorry for the ill; that is all that is wanted." “But I was main true to the Squire, I was," he persisted. “I knowed he hadn’t a fardin’ on Nettle, that he never laid nothink on races, and that if the hoes didn’t Win the Derby, he was safe for the rest; and as it was the matter of a couple of thousand, and I was heavy on something myself, I took it. It was all Swelly Jock, it was—’im as called ’isself the Baron—and I put a chunk of summat in the jock’s glass afore he started; it was summat that had to do with the eyes, and he didn’t ride straight; that was how it was. The jock—it was Tibbles —was queer like for some days after, an’ the doctors called it ’cipient hapoplexy—- Ah, miss, you were not practising then, or we’d maybe not got off so free!”—and he chuckled with u lingering spice of the old Adam. “Oh, Stubbs, how dreadful!” That was all Nell said. “I sees it now, miss; at least it looks queer loike now; only, you see, I didn’t do any hurt to the boss, and it didn't matter in a money way to master whether he won or not. But I’m real sorry, miss, lam how. Seems to me as right and wrong’s got clearer to me since I’ve been laid by. You’ll tell the Squire, won’t you, when I’m gone? He's a grand gentleman, an’ mayhap he’ll look at the bit of sod as’ll cover me soon and say—‘Stubbs, I forgive you,’ ’’ When she got back to the Hall, Nell told the Squire the groom’s story, drawing his penitence with a tender touch; and the same afternoon, the great-hearted gentleman rode Nettle over to the Duke’s stables, and took his old servant by the hand. It was nearly four,and getting dusk; but the groom’s cot was drawn to tho little lattice-paned window over the

stables, and Nettle was led to a point from which he could be clearly seen. At Stubb’s request, the window was opened; he was raised on his pillow. .With a great effort, he uttered a long peculiar whistle, by which he had been used to attract the attention of the horse when he wished to put him on his mettle. ~..... ... .. In a moment the noble animal pricked up its ears, pawed the ground impatiently and whinnied. “W s forgiv’ me too,” said the groom. “He knows I wouldn’t’ave ’armed a hair of bis body. Just listen to him!”—as the horse Shinnied loud and long. 1 ‘An’ they call ’em dumb animals! Seems to me as they knows ’ow to speak their thoughts better nor most folks.” Then he made another effort, blew another whistle, and fell back exhausted. That night Stubbs finished the race for which he had entered so many years gone, but whether to be scored first or last, who can tell?—“The race is not always to the swift.”