An Honest Woman [pp. 288-305]

An Honest Woman.
since then, everythin' I've gone into has
panned out big. Hits all along of you."
Her eyes filled with tears of self-reproach;
she bent her head in shame. With infinite
gentleness he drew it against his broad shoulder, softly stroking her curls. "Ye shouldn't
orter come here, honey, so close to these
yer graves; hit brings back all yer old troubles."
"No," she sobbed, "this is my home. I
love it better than any other spot. I want
to live and die here."
"I'm afeer'd yer frettin' because Jim's got
the big-head a little. Now, I don't care no
more for them frills he puts on nor for the
capers of Alick's baby. Boys has allus them
thar peert ways when they fust use a razor;
but the little fellers is as funny as monkeys
with me, and don't keqr if I am a big, overgrown somebody."
She leaned against him wearily, dumb
with self-contempt. Surely, if she were not
the most ungrateful of creatures, this man's
generous love would outweigh all trifling defects. By a perverse contradiction, she had
never before clung so entirely to him for affection, and never before so keenly realized
his deficiencies.
The return to school tasks, with the added
stress of preparation for graduation, left little
time for morbid thought; and the honor of
the valedictorian satisfied her girlish ambition.
Mr. Wilkes, arrayed in full dress, in pursuance of a suggestion from his tailor, and
carrying the costliest bouquet in the audienceroom, seated himself beside Harry Bell, to
witness the closing triumph of Lida's schooldays.
Catching sight of a familiar face, he whispered to his young neighbor: "Has Parson
Atwood been sick? He looks sorter hollereyed and consumpted-like."
Harry shook his head, annoyed at the
shrill whisper that drew many eyes to Mr.
Wilkes; but the entrance of the graduates
attracted the attention of the questioner from
Mark's haggard countenance. Little cared
Mr. Wilkes for the essays of the half-dozen
pretty girls who first graced the rostrum;
but when the valedictorian appeared, serious
and marble-pale, his heart swelled with rapture. She was no genius; but the sweetness of her voice, the grave dignity of her
manner, the elevation of her face, lent a
charm to the crude thoughts of the reader.
Mr. Wilkes with difficulty suppressed a sob
as he listened; this pure, delicate woman
was his very own; and with an awe that
thrilled every fiber of his huge frame, he
gazed on her girlish beauty.
The diplomas were presented, friends
pressed forward to congratulate; but Mr.
Wilkes whispered to Harry:
"Give this yer bouquet to her. I dass n't
go up thar now. I'm afeerd of makin' a
reg'lar calf of myself; I'd bust out a cryin'
for two bits."
He gladly followed in the wake of those
who went out, ashamed to trust his tell-tale
face among acquaintances. As he stumbled
along the pavement, blinded by the darkness
after the glare of gaslight, two young men
in front of him freely discussed the valedictorian.
"Miss Bell looked stunning," said one.
"But Mark Atwood didn't seem particularly festive," returned the other.
"Is he sweet on her?"
"I believe it! Jennie told my sister all
about it. Miss Bell spent last summer vacation at his mother's, and flirted with him
right along; went to prayer-meeting and Chinese Sunday school with him till he proposed, and then flung him higher than a kite.
She knows a trick worth two of marrying a
poor dog like him. She's engaged to that
big, awkward booby that sat with Harry.
He's got no end of money, they say."
"That's all she marries him for, then. Of
course, she wouldn't look at a hulking ignoramus like that if he wasn't rich."
"They'll all do it; but the Atwood game
was rather sneaking. Jennie's madder than
a hornet about it."
The two lads turned the corner, while the
listener stopped, reeling like a drunken man,
catching at the fence near him for support.
This idle gossip had given him a mortal
wound.
4
302'
[March,