The Widow Armsby

I -n-as smoking mv third Huraña, nnd medHatnrj; upon a vaviety of thinga - anión? others, tho viso in Erie stock, the inscrutable lato tliat liad leí't me a bachelor so mnny ycars. tlie depth of ieininine depravity that made my sister Laura drnw me to Nowport every scason, when I milit go to W and Inxnriate in trout lisliin- antl shirt-sleoves - when t he postman brougrht my nnil. Thero was a lctler ftom Laura. I readall tlieotlicrsíh-st. Not biit thnt I think a Exeat dal of Laura, but she is nddicted to the customni'v t'eniinine failinrs, exajygeration and prolixity, which rnake lier Ictter3 ratlier exasperating to a man of my temperament, wlio invariably calis a epailo a spade, and saya wliat ho lias to say n tie smallcst possible space. When I had finished readiiig the othors I could scarcely summun couríi e lo open Laura's - I knew so well siie was laying soine uew snaro for my uuwary tbot. Doubtless Newport and her dear fricad, Miss Angehque Do Flummerie were not euouvh for this soason. Still,fatc is somctiiiics kinder thn.n onr deserto; there was a bnre possibility that.slie niiht let me off for this sumiller. Einboldeucd by tüat tlioii'j'ht 1 opened it and read :- "Dear Jack : - It is just the most foriuiiite thin iinnginablo tliat you are coming down noxt Tuesday, for 1 1 1 y dear, dear fricnd ajul pchoulinate, Manon Ëarl, ot vvlioni you have oi'tcn henvd me sprak, is coming, too, and alono, aacT will bc del yh tod to have you lor an escort. She is visicinif iu Albany, but will be in tiic ladics' room át the station, at ton o'elock TiHwday muriiing. Don't foryet that shc is Slrs. Armsby now ; she married Joe Annsby three ycars ajo, and lio only lived a tbw inonths al'ter, you laiuw. (Yes, I did know Joe Annsby - a rcckless, dissipated fooi. What r.oiild a girl bo wlio marriod liitn?) I Know you will be delighted to niake yourself agroeable to deir Marión, and ■ou can't hulp bcing chnrmed with lier -she is so fasciuatiiig aud brilli-.uit." Fascinatin and brilliant ! If there is anything iu the worid that I haie it is a womau who is called briiliant and fascinatiii. I jíroauod in agony of spirit. Uut thort was nothiii for it bilt to lmnt up "deal" Marión," see to all her tnntks, satcliela, mnbrellas and poodlcs - Luira's dear iVicnds always travcled with poodies - see that sho had a cumfoi table seat, and was ucither too cold nor f ro warm, had plenty of books and bananas, and, worst of all, beguile hor soul with small talk iiicfssaiitly - your briiliant and fascinating wonian always wants to talk! Now perlmps you may think, especia 11 y ii you are a she, "that I -was a cynical old bachelor. I was nothing o' the sort. The trouble was that I lnd an ideal ot' womanhood, and my sisiur's dear frien.ls didu't come up to it. ïliey were all vromen of the period. Abominable expression, but more abominable tilines - at least, I used think so. My ideal was a doveeyed, soit-voiced littie woman, with soa lisrht hair, not criinucd or frizzed. or any of those abonihiations, bnt combed "Madonua-wise," aud eiitirely superior to the tlictates of fashion in her dress. She' wore plain, graueful, llowiiij' robes, oud artisüo combiii itions oí coior, but üouuces, overskiru aud furbeiows- liever !" Laura was accustomcd to ask me tarcastiually, if 1 ever expected to jin.l tiiis piiruguii oi" pciectiou, and it' I clid, "diU i osoot to appear m puulic Witü lier '(" 1 can liaídly éay thftt T did cxpect ever iu ïiii.t lier, aud thereiure 1 cxpootod to ltrk) i.u tlw euda ofmy days ii Iwüujy, lorlwru, inelaujiioly ojj b;iciielor. btill, I ;im uuJy tiiirty-tiirco, and had uut quito .;vcn up tue BcaroJi. Bat amuu Laura's fnenda I sliouid liever lhi.t her, that was uercaüj. And tuis one was a widovv - worseand oi-.-ícI But thei'ti was iu Deed ot' me to bs "bcvii-o ui vuldcrs." 1 had, natunüiy a perieet horror of them ; u;jt aü tnu wiuovvs in the universo eould biyuiie me. lile Wiuoyv Armsbyi photogrnph liad drappcd tu tue liojr. Jt occurrud to mu tlieu, do seo how slie ljokud - a l'iitaei' jieouósury prucecüuy, you will auovv, ii' 1 vvíis to íeoomze lier in a cruwuüJ vvaitin-room uy tliat nieaus. Xuera was íiotiim1 particular abuut tiie lace. iL was Well-áUapoJ and JiaU a pleaaant expressiou ; me eyes aud hair, 1 jadguu, wero dark; tue Inur w:isgoiu up ni tlie látese style, oí' courof, cnuiped and t'rizzed and pult'eJ and braided and cui'led, until tüa Jiuad looked n;e liie towor oL Jj.iucl. 1 gazed at the picture tul í thought I slijuid know t,nu U'ldow Arinsoy ií' I saw lier, and tlieii put ít ii my poCKeí, wliere 1 shouid nave it to looic ut Tutjsday mornin it' I siiouid g-et puzzled. 1 did gct very mnch puzzled on Tuesday inornin. Xue vvaitin-room was pretiy weh íiilud, but tauugh I liad tüouht t)ie tace sucli an ordinary onc tnere was not a lady there wlio at all raaeuiblod the picture. I took tlie pliotograpli out of my pocket and stuuied it furtively, until a pair oi' sciiool-girls cauche me at it, and bogan to gigle, aitei' tho nianner of the epw;ie.s, thinking no doubt, it was aifection vrhich riveted my eyes on tho AVidow Armsby's features - thcy never wcre more mistaken 1 I waiked around the room, and looked inqnlringly at every woinau wJio might possiüiy bo Buppoaed to be the VVidow Annsby. ïvoi olie of thcm lookcd at ill responsive. My pllotograph had been tbrwarded to tlie W idow Armsby, and as it was a stnkhig likenesa - glasses and all - slie must have rocoginzed me ii' slie was tiiere. I made a íranúc lcap on board the last car just as it wa Siippiiy out oí the depot. I must be on uuty at Kevvpoit, widow or uo widow. Hy spirits rose. I had done my diuy, ana 1 was not buidtned wiiii the VVidow Armsbjr I buddenly anelegantly enibroiaed littlo saiehel, wlth tue letter A on it, cauht my eye. It was lian j'iiy direutly over the seat In front of me. A stood tbr Annsby ; that was wliat attracted my auentiou. 1 luulx'd at its ow ner; slie was a "jfirl ot' the pei'lod;" tliei'o was hd question about iliat. Ühe had on what is cullud a "styl.sa" travelinj-dress, a niass ot' crinkted liair drawn over her ibrehead, a little bat witha bird's wing on it set jauntlly on top ot'a iieap ot'eoal-black braids and puli'í. lier proiiie was turned tuwaidd me, and I could aee (lint ík had a stifiilit linie nose nncl long laslies. 1 gcrutluized her face bccause I thought slie might be the Widow Annsby, and had not liked the looks of my phdtograph sulliciently well to wait lor tne. She turned and looked at me, as was quito natural. But thea haviug looked oucp, shc turnod aud looked ay;iin. I would not liave yon suppose that was ni (inusual oecuiTeiicc. I ameonsidcred to be a particultrlygood-looking man, and young lndies often look at me twioe ; but I fancied I saw in her oye a sort oí' recognition - bright, black eyes thoy Were, witii a aaucy, make-fun-ot'-everything sort oí' expressiou to them - not my dove-eycd ideal by my mciiis! But it might be j JIrs. Annsby ; the features were certainly not uulike liers ; shc might perhays máke an ordinsvy-looking ture, thotigh tliose eyes were by no meuis ordiimry ! But I couldn't quite mike up my tniud to speak to i-, tm the rtemgth oían a on Reí travelin-bag', and a resemblance that rnight be purely ünaji'ínirv'. Besides, ií' she were the Vv'idow AiTnsby slie had givcn me the süp, and 1 wasn't oblicd to devoto myscK to lier. But I did wish she would tnni round once more. She didn't, hovvcvcr. áhe stuck her tiuKec in ber hat-banJ. - olí, those "girl ot' tlie period" waysl My ideal couid never be eapable of stickilig her ticket in her hat-buud - and devoted horaelf to a paper-eovered novel. 1 read my newspaper; it was singnlariy diul and umuteresting, and I liavored it ocoiisioually by a yianco at a straight litile lióse and loiy lashos. I wonuered tí anybjdy bevond e.nldhood ever had sueii very ioag lashes bulure. I had never thouht ox'it bel'oiv, but I ailded theiu nuw to tüe 8 weet and seraphic face oi' niy ideal. 8addenly ske laid down her book and took a ielter írom her pocket. I lu.uicd over and loukcd at the subscription. I eousidered it jusiiiiaulc nnuur Uia circuinstmces - noc beuause I mlimrtul lier iij nlfliiiilliiii, you micjui'sïaud, but biicauso she tuiglit be Mrs. Anusby. Uure enouli, tue iotior was clircutcvl to ''Uva, M. Arinsby." I rose hupulsively, 1 havo the plcnsure of spcakin to Ml'3. Annsby, L bolieve? i - I liaTo vuur puotoraph." (Those siuicy black eyes were lookjiy mercllessly Bti'.úghc at me, and I Dliishod and Btauuuered liKe a suiiool-boy.) ! expeewd to liiid you in tlie Wmimj-rooiu. l - I um vei-y sorry to have ïniaoud you." "You are Uncle John, then?" she said, i'rankly, exteiidin a Uuintily gloved liaud. "W'Jiy - wliy, yes; Brother Xed's children cali me so soineiiinesl" I Btanimered. Uncie John sounds vcry old and baclioiorisli, some way. I didu't tauoy it at all. "1 ani so glad to have meet you ! I disliko travelin alone so mucii I I quite dreadedtiiejoumeyl Wiieu you Ukln't come to t.je Jioiel, I thuullt sonwthiiy must have provented you tiviu 1110. I diau't tümk ox' louKiiy in tue waitiiig-room." At tne hotel ! Oa, that was so like Laura, tiiouiit I, with a sniotliered groaii. Ï3.ie iiad not uiuiitionmi a hotel to me, and iioro was tin-s cliarmiu lutle ercuiure tlnnkin I liad noiected lier I "lt was bad enough coming all the way i'roni Chieogo aloiiü," snu warblod on, in sucli a bird-liKo voicei Onue I miglit nave c.üieU it raüling, for siie did lalu a great deal, bui, aui uoc ïiuw. W is ie possiLhe tluu 1, a iiiau oí' thirty-three, with an ideal, was subjugatód by a pan1 oi' sauoy black eyus, aild souie iuu lashes, uoluiyuy, tuu, lo au uuuiisuikauie "girl oí lüu periodi" Aias ! i could ujt teil. fcjuine cíanos liad certaiuly "comü over tlie spirit oi my droam." "1 om so impatiüuc to scu tlic doar childreii iLtaia! 1 tliiuk tney aro nie cuLo-jt, ciuiaiiicst litcie dIiuios ! iilossy is my uspuuüil favorita." A'ow, as my mccu, i''iosy, had arrtved at Hia nntnrc n-c of flvfi ov six weeks, I thought Mrs. Annsby had rather strans taste. As I had 'never had the picasure of meeting; niy yonthi'ul relalive, and had, indeed, been apprised only the day before tliat her ïitmc was Flossy, I nould not be expceted to respónd vcry cordially to this sentiment. I couldn't be expected to, I say, but I did! What sentiment woulun't I have responded to, bncked by those cycs and that bewitchinv smile? "The 1 o vel ios t ot' thcin all! Ainl sticli a swcot uamel" munnured I, like au imbecile. "Aml Nellic- isn't she a darlinar?" Wlio was Xellie? Not oiic of Norï's chijdi-ou. Poesibly .one of Laura's fricuds; I didn't remombor all the.r nnmes. It wouldn't bc safe me to s'iy sha was "a darlinz" upon uiieertainties, but I did thfiik it safe tu ictpond, witli Rome enthusiasru, - "iShe's a very nioe girl." "A nioe giri?" and the sauey oyos danced. "Why, I mean the little Syitz do,'i!" "Oh, ycs; ccrtainly! A very nico dog," stiinnieroil I, iuwardly cursing my stupidity in not remembering the name ot' the wretchód litt.lc beast that was always under my f'eet at Ned's. She talked about a good niany otlior E copie wiiose mines 1 didn't remenier. How I wished I had taken more interest in Laum's frieuds 1 li' tliey had only boen more liko lier I should have liad no occasion tbr that regrot. I took excellent care of lior, she said, with a bright little sinile; and vvhat t delizhtful thing it was to take care of her I Af'ter we pot over talkinsr about our mutual friends aud on to cuoi-al subjects, I grew gradually more at ease; I feit as if the hoursTrere slipping by in a delightful dream. 'We aro ahnost there," slu; said, guddenly. "Olí, Ñewport is a good many milos away yct," 1 said, almost wtahing wo might ncver get there, to have au iuterruption to this blissl'ul dream. "Newport? Uut I atn not jfoinjf to Newport; are yon? I thought you wcre going direotly to Alice's. She wrote me that you were." This was very bewildertnj. I bogan to perecive tliat there was a mistake soincwhero. "I don't know Al ico," I said. I am going to Ne v. port to meet my Sister Laura, who wrote me that you were going thero too." 'I am going to K , to visit my sister, who is married and lives there. And she wrote me that lier husband'a miele wou ld come to the hotel tbr me. Aren't you ITnelo John?" "1 am Uncle John to my brother's childivn, but not to your sister's husbaud, I am aí'nuil," I lid, dolüí'iilly. Tlie black eyes daaced like will-o'the-wisps. 'li's too funny for nnythingl" she dochired. "1 thuuglit you were vM-y un like KI la's descriiitión t' ITnol Ji.im - so inucli youn 'er thun I supposed ho was !" At this Interesting moment the cars stouped, auJ the conductor slioutcd "K ." "Oh, dear me ! I mustn't g-et left !" said my fair compaiiion, in a llutter. "Ir, is such a funny thin altogether - and Í am so muoh obligo.l to you - " 'Allow me to give you my card," stinimered Í, as I assisled lier out, hardly awake yct to the situatioii, 'and to hope - " And theu I saw lier gnthered to tho embraces oí' half' a dozen women and a very blaek-whiskered yotuig man, wich a íiorec pang of jealousy. She was gone - and 1 didn't eren know the name of lier brothor-in-law ; k;."w nothing about her except that slie wa3 the W'idow Armsby ! Did i even know tint? Yes, I had soon the ninie on her letter, and she couldn't be Lauva's Widow Armsby, thereíbre I she coulilii't be Jo Arnisby's widow. I Oí' ooursé ïiüt! 8Imi never could have married au unpriuciplod scanip like hini. I feil to wondering wliat her lmsband was like; what her sucuiul huslind would be like. I wonld be the fortúnate man or pcrish in the actenipt ! 1 reached Newport in a drenm. 1 was introduced to the AV'ido'.v Armsby, who liad changed her plans and got there beibre me, still in a drenm. "Your very ideal !" whispered Laura, and 1 lookcd at her agnin. Slie was a little, pale womnn, with drab hair, combed pl.iinly boliind her e:u-s and done up in a "pug" behiud. SUe had on a very lonx, flowinj; i-obe ot' white muslin, and not an ornament 1 of any kind. I have niy suspiciuns tlmt thia Widow Arinsby had goUen herself up tbr irnr especial benefit, as I afterward saw her in very diii'erent guise. "Jack, isn't she lovely?" said Laura, as soon as we were alone, "tihe looks ! so like an angel !" "tílie looks like the Witch of Eiidor!" aaid T, iidvi ll:in) 1 v-. Laura siid I was a " brute, and she would like to knovr what niy "ideal" was. I went to K on the early mg tram. Huw 1 was gmug to liiul niy üuunorata was inoro than I know, but lind hor I woulil. I asked the proprietor of the hotel if lie know where Mrs. Arnnby of Chicago was visiting. He didii't know. I went, to tlio post oflice, the two dry goods stores, the ciroulatiiig librar?, with tlie samo resul t. At. íast I went boldly up to tlie door ot' a private house. It looked as it' she wore there, I don't know why. Porhaps thcre is an additional sonso bestowed upon peoplc as much in love as I,,was - in compeusation for tlie sonse that is taken away. Anyway, I lelt sure slio was there. A round, curly liead stuck itsoll' out of the door. "My Aunt Mabel is liere - shc isn't Mrs. - she's only a young huly," it responded to my question. Could it be possible that she wa=n't tlie Aiilow Arnisby, nfter all? Ferhaps it might have been JUt'ss that I saw on the letter! I had not time to refloot before the clanoing oyes, the bewitching smile were betbrc me. There was a bcwitchiiijf bhish, too, now, and a little siiynesí, tliat set me quite at my ease. What is the use of telling any "more? If 1 hadu't come off victor, it'I hadn't been tUe luckiest iellow alivc, do yon sifpposc I ever should have told tliis story at all ? The Widow Armsby found her second late at Nevrport tiiat summer (but ïiot wliile nitisqueradinas my "ideal") Biid I made her an elegant woddiu as a sliyht expression of the gmtitude I owed her. For if it had nut been tbr her 1 might have been a Ibrlorn and miserable oíd bachelor to this day, inste-id of being married to tlie brightest eyes tliat ever danced imd the trucs t little lieart that ever beat.