A Righteous Woman’s Recompense

A Righteous Woman's Recompense BY LELLA MARLER HOGGAN

V— Compensation There was a challenge, and a response of love-laughter from every blossoming tree in the garden. The air was heavy with sweet odors. Here and there a soft, white cloud hung lazily over the low, green hills, waiting for a light breeze to carry it down the valley. The very atmosphere was pregnant with prophetic promise. "He is coming, my own, my sweet," paraphrased Ethel, tossing the newspaper on the porch, and rushing into the garden. A soft color stole into her cheeks, her eyes brightened, her fingers trembled, as she began filling her kitchen apron with apple blossoms and lilacs. "Coming! coming! coming!" chanted in her ears a chorus of insects. Her breath came quicky, her cheeks flushed. "If I were only a girl of ten," she breathed, "I could run to meet him and tell him how very, very, happy I am to have him — back again. But no I must not even tell Aunt Lucy, I should not even admit it to myself. After a woman wears long skirts and avoids remembering her birthday, she must remain in her room in a quiet, conventional manner and wait to be wooed. Even though she perish for love, she must not so much as greet a man, unless she is sought by him. So goes the creed." " 'Oh fools and blind,' this is my day. No creed shall come to mar my joy. I am alone, alone in my house. Alone with the joy of my own heart. Tomorrow is the twelfth of June — my wedding day, it was to have been three years ago. But today, today is my day ! Willard is released. He is coming home. Perhaps he is home even now. While it is still my day, I shall sip my cup of joy, lest it be dashed from my lips tomorrow. Tomorrow there may be another woman, today Willard Taylor, you belong to me. It is my day and you are mine." With a glorious light in her eyes, and a spring, to her step, she hurried up stairs to the little room she once occupied before Aunt Lucy's illness. It looked rather barren and dusty. Hurriedly arranging her flowers in two large vases, she placed them in Ned's room and began the work of renewing and refreshing her room. Her cheeks glowed, as her strong, white hands quickly cleaned and beautified the room. At last it was finished. The

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painted floors shone. The old rugs looked brighter for having lain in a dark closet so long. The fresh, white curtains shone through the freshly polished window panes. The large vases of flowers gave forth their fragrance. Ethel scrutinized her work closely and smiled — satisfied. "It is finished," she soliloquized. "Now I shall eat my lunch, and then for the old chest. Truly it shall be my day." Her cheeks paled a little as she lifted her wedding garments from the scented heap of fine linen and old lace. But she did not intend to faint or do any foolish thing. She had refreshed herself with a cool bath and a good lunch, and she was fortified against any sentimental regrets. "It is my day," she assured herself, again, "and I am going to make the most of it. Maybe tomorrow will belong to some one else." With quick, cleft fingers she pressed out the shining linen and satin, robed herself in the beautiful garments and stood viewing herself in the mirror. "A little old fashioned," she mused. "But never mind, it is beautiful, just the same." So saying, sne put the old chest back into the closet, after possessing herself of a large box of letters, Willard's letters to her while he was attending school. The first one she opened chanced to be his last note to her "Dearest Ethel: Walker has sent for me to come into town this afternoon. I leave in half an hour. Sorry I can't see you first. I shall be back Thursday. Be good. Keep cheerful. "Faithfully yours, "Willard."

That was almost too much. The old memories of another man crowded in, but she put them aside. "Today is my day mine and Willard Taylor's," she said. Slowly, lovingly she read through the little budget of letters. Her face grew inexpressibly sweet and tender as she read. Sometimes there were tears, but thev were tears of joy. As she closed the box and placed it on the table, she started a little. as she remembered how she was gowned. The silence of the afternoon was gone. The call of bird lovers had begun. The shadows were lengthening. The day was done. "It has been my day," she said, almost bitterly. "Maybe it is the last one I shall spend alone with him." Slowlv she removed the beautiful, white garments and placed them with loving touch into the large chest. Then garbing herself in a simple gown she sat watching the day depart. There were footsteps on the stair, presently, and Aunt Lucy opened the door. "What have you been doing?" she asked, looking about somewhat surprised.

146 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Just cleaning up my room and enjoying the day," replied Ethel, dryly. "I have glad news for you, my girl. Willard is home," she bubbled out joyously. "Have you seen him?" questioned Ethel, her face beaming. "Only across the street. But he is splendid, Ethel. Just as I told you he would be."

The twilight began to deepen as Ethel and her mother sat talking and mending, in the cheerful living room. Ethel folded up her work and yawned wearily. "I have promised to spend the night with old Mrs. Gray," she said, "I had almost forgotten it. I did not know you were coming home, and the poor old lady seemed so lonely and feeble, when I called yesterday, that I promised to come tonight." "You must not disappoint her," approved Aunt Lucy. "Ned will be here with me." As Ethel was making her way up the alley, leading to old Mrs. Gray's, an automobile went slowly past. She heard a familiar voice that sent her pulses throbbing. Looking up, she saw a fine, manly figure leaning over a small woman with fluffy, golden hair. The light was too dim to distinguish more. But she was sure the woman was small, and that her hair was golden and fluffy. "So there is a woman," she breathed. "No wonder he did not find time to call on me. I am glad that today was my day, for it can never come again." "Here comes my bonny bird," called old Mrs. Gray, "I feared you had not remembered." Ethel exerted herself to be calm and gentle and lovely with the old woman. But it was a real relief to her when the poor old eyes finally closed in sleep, and Ethel was free to give her thoughts to herself and her own troubles. It was nearly dawn before she finally forgot herself, and fell into a sound slumber. And it was with considerable reluctance that she left her bed when old Mrs. Gray came to awaken her at an unusually early hour. "I knew you would have to be leaving early," apologized the old lady," and I wanted a bit of a talk with you before you would be going. Your words always cheer me up so." The grass was still wet and the meadow larks were whistling from the near by fences, as Ethel walked out into the glorious sunshine. She felt old, as if she had aged in a night. "It is all over," she mused. "My life is like a dead sea-shell, tossing hopelessly and uselessly out to sea. I have tried to live true to my own fickle heart, and it has led me into a burning waste. All the bright ambition of my youth is gone. The deepest desire of mv womanhood must die in mv heart. This is the

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cost of living true to my conscience. It is almost too much." Her heart cried out for its own. The mother passion of her soul hungered to offer its sacrifice on the altar of love, and she was alone. She walked aimlessly out across the meadow and up over the little hill into the shaded lane that led to her own home. It was getting warm when she reached the lane and she welcomed the shade. As she loitered along in the soft grass, absorbed in her own unhappy thoughts, she did not hear a muffled step behind her. And when she felt a strong hand on her arm she gave a little frightened scream, as she looked into Willard Taylor's strong, handsome face. He did not speak for a moment. He was anxiously searching her white face with his eyes. But when the drawn lines softened, and her eyes drooped and her cheeks grew crimson, Willard's anxious gaze became a glad smile of anticipation.Drawing her up very close to him he whispered: "You have kept your promise, haven't you? And God has saved you for me." "Willard !" There was a sob in her voice and she waited. "Thank God," he whispered, devoutly. "You do love me in the right way. I knew you would."

— — "But, Willard I thought I am sure— isn't there someone else?" "Girl of mine, girl of mine, I've been loving you since you were ten. How could there be anyone else?" She dared not trust her voice to reply. He was all, he was more, than her vaguest hopes had dared to picture him and he — loved her. Tt was the dearest, sweetest dream of her life, materialized. She had a supreme effort to control her emotion, but it — was useless. the tears were in her eyes, were on her cheeks, and even shining on his coat sleeve. "Sweetheart of mine. Ethel girl." he breathed, his own voice deep with emotion. "Tt is June, love, the twelfth of June. Don't you know it is our wedding dav? I've made a great effort to get home in time. And here' T find you white-faced and weeping. Now, I want you to smile and kiss me once, and get ready as soon as you can to come with me." His strong arms held her close, as he kissed her blushing face and lips. "I am all ready," she whispered, smiling through her tears.

"I pressed the wedding gown yesterday." "And there are no doubts nor fears this time? You are really happy ?" .

"Happy?" she echoed. "Measure my joy by your own, and sure this isn't a dream ?' then treble it ! Willard. are vou going to last "Never mind, darline. if it is a dream ! It is 'until death do us part, but. forever, you know. Tt will not be, " 'for time and all eternity.' (the end")