Rensselaer Union, Volume 6, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 October 1873 — A BACHELOR’S STORY. [ARTICLE]

A BACHELOR’S STORY.

lam an old bachelor. At sixty-five 1 can say 1 shall never be anything' else; • but, liKe all other men—all I have ever met, at least —I have loved, and hoped to be li'appy with my chosen bride. 3’hat passion and those hopes faded forty years ago. Since then I have done penan’ce for the hasty act of one night. I have shunned the society of women, and forbade myself the shadow of a hope that I might patch my shattered joys with new ones. At the age of twenty-four I was clerk in the establishment of Messrs. Carp & Cavil, lawyers. 1 had energy and ambition, health and opportunity—everything, in fact, that could be wished for by a man who hoped to.fight his way up in the world and win wealth ant] reputation. I was engaged to Grace Hunter, a pretty, delicate creature, so quiet that her pet name, Snowflake, seemed to be the only one suitable for her. Her step was noiseless, her movements soft, her voice mellow and low. She never herself entertained a large company by her conversation, nor did any one of those things that give a woman a reputation—for brilliancy; but her mental powers were very fine, and in a tete-a-tete she was enchanting, A lady to tlic heart’s core; in my eyes, at least, a perfect beauty, she might have been forgotten in a roomful of giggling, chattering girls. I adored her. I had felt that her love was a jewel worthy of an emperor’s •wearing, and I scarcely dared to utter the words that told her all I felt. Even now Iler high-bred reserve kept me at a distiacc. I was proud of her. I felt urnworthy of her. She was at once the saint whwm I revered, and the being whom it was to be my delight to cherish and protect until death should part us. . Six months had passed since she had promised to be mine. At the end of six more she was to give me her hand. I bad a small salary, but my-grandmother had left me n legacy-which- would enable me to go to housekeeping iu plain but comfortable style, and Grace was willing to fight life’s battles by my side. Life seemed bright, aud joyous to me on that night of mild winter, forty years ago, when I walked through the streets with Grace upon my arm, and looking down at her in her .white wrappings, with gleams of frosty starlight touching her black hair, wondered if the angels were fairer than she. We were going to spend llnruvcning at a mutual friend’s residence. There was to be music and dancing and cards, and sociable supp'er. I went because Grace desired to go. I talked; I sang; I turned the music for musical ladies; 1 walked through the Lancers. At last I found myself flirting with one of the female guests. There are women a man is obliged to flirt with. He does not admire them, respect them, or love them one whit; he docs not even desire their society; but he must be more ihrtu man ere he can refuse to respond to their advances. One of these women I know now, having played the looker on for so many years, Tran make any man appear to other wo- - men desperately in love with her, while he almost detests her. A woman of that kind was among the company. She had hands Hint delighted in soli touches of hands masculine; eyes that could cast glances bright and entrancing. She possessed attraction rather than beauty. What she said was nothin; her conversation had no interest, but I knew’ that I seemed absorbed by her—that T really was absorbed; in two words, that I flirted abominably with her. Grace, meanwhile, sat apart from me. She talked to others in her low, sweet tones. - Once she sang a pretty love-song. Quite calm and self-possessed, with no appearance of noticing my conduct, the thought that it troubled her never occurred to me. S*o that when the evening was over, and we had left the -house together, I was astonished beyond measure to see an offended look upon her face, and to hear an offended tone in her voice. I offered her my arm. She rejected it, replying that the ground was damp, and that her hands- were occupied w-ith her dress, but I knew that this was merely an excuse; and feeling myself in the wrong, and having swallowed more winethan I should at the supper-table, I grew very angry. “ May I ask what I have done ?” I said. ’• You know!” said Grace. “I know!” I repeated. “Nay, I know nothing of woman's fancies. You must' explain.’ 1 "I scarcely think it worth while,” said she. K TT'y‘ou do not know that you have done wrong to-night, I really should not care. You have neglected me, and devoted yourself to that, vulgar woman. I heard a lady near me say that you seemed to be tired of your bargain. She tliought that you were in love with that creature. So did other people. Under the circum-

stances, I have a right to feel offended, insulted.” Perhaps she thought I would deny her charge. Perhaps she expected me to plead for pardon. God knows what possessed me. I answered only f “May I not talk to a pretty woman because I hope to marry you some day?” —“You Were flirt ing—almost making love to her,” she replied. “She is the sort of woman with whom, men fall in love,” I said; “ irresistible in’ her manner, I’ve heard she makes conqu sts everywhere; I don’t doubt it.” Grace looked at me with a stern face—white in the starlight as a marble statue. “Other women are always jealous of such women,” I added, “I am not jealous of her,” she said. “I would not be like her for a kingdom. She is a terrible woman. But since you admire her 'So you are free to tell her so after you have seen me to my door.” “Grace!” I said. “Miss Hunter, if you please, Mr. Rutherford,” said she. “We have both made a little mistake, easily rectified; that is all.” I felt, as I stood looking at her, that the effect of the wine I had drank was stronger upon me than I had thought, but I gave no heed tothe warning of my giddy head and rapid pulse. “Jus as you please,” I said. “I should think a jealous woman would curse any man’s life. I’ll go now. I won’t trouble jfou longer. Good-by.” We were not at the door of her home—we were about half a block from it; but I turned on my heel then and there, and left her. I staggered a little as I walked, and- I - was -hot and angry. .. I.made .my, way home, and without undressing fell upon my bed and dropped asleep. In two hours I awakened sober. I sat up and looked about me. The scenes of the evening recurred tome vividly. I saw how blameworthy I had, been,and a terrible grief oppressed me. I put my head down upon my hands, and burst into bitter tears. I had lost her, and with her all that made life precious. Then hope dawned upon my soul. I would write to her; tell her how T-unused to.liquor as I was, the winm had affected me. Springing to my feet I rushed to my desk. I drew from it pen and paper. I wrote a letter overflowing with remorse and tenderness. I read it and re-read it. Then leaving it upon the spot where it was written, I stood at the Window waiting for the tardy dawn, jealous of the slow hours that kept my missive from my darling. I had pqt out my candle when I left my desk, and the rooni should have been dark; but as I turned my head after a long and anxious reverie, I saw it was ..full of pale radiance like that of a moonlight. It startled me. Whence did the light come? Had a miracle occurred—had the moon risen again? Suddenly, amid the silvery light appeared a still whiter radiance. It slowly took form. A female figure, in white garments so bright that they . dazzled the eyes, stood bending over my letter. I remained motionless —to speak or stir was not in my power—and gazed on the strange object with terrified intensity. The figure seemed to turn the pages of my letter with its transparent hand. I heard a gentle sigh; then the head turned toward me, and I saw a face I knew’—the face that seemed the lovelist of all on earth to me, endowed with a mysterious divine beauty, for which no man could find words—the glorified face of sweet Grace Hunter. ” At the sight I burst the bonds that held me—bonds as tangible as though 1 could have seen them—and rushed forward. I strove to clasp my love, or her shadow, in my arms. A shock such as one might experience from an electrical machine flashed through me, and I fell powerless to the floor. When I recovered, the day had dawned, and under the blue morning sky the city Trad awakened; but my day never dawned again. My heart never awoke to life’s sweetness. To end the story in a few words, Grace Hunter never reached her. home’that night, and never was heard of again. The family imagined that she had remained with her friends, and were not anxious about her. 1 had left her within the sight of her own door, and why she did not reach it I shall never know’. But I did know that in some woful manner 'sluTtliecl that night, and that her parting spirit paused in its flight to bid me along farewell. I have outlived my youth, and the suspicion that fell upon me and embittered many years of my existence ; but I shall never outlive my love for Grace Hunter, or my remorse for that night’s w’oful work. I shall never outlive the knowledge that in the madness caused by wine and woman’s enchantment, I was theuCause of’ my darling’s death.