The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1893-01-31
AN UGLY WOMAN.

crowded barrier to give place to a
little nervous woman, who, between
fear of losing her train, dismay at
finding herself unexpectedly in the
midst of a noisy crowd and graft
tude to the courteous stranger, be-
came more furried than ever. got
into amuddle with her change. strug-
gled in vain to pick up the slippery
ticket with cold, indifferently gloved
fingers and dropped shower of
coppers on the ground.
Serves You right, Don Quixote
out of date" said the friend who
was seeing Tenby off. You have
lest your train through your mis-
placed gallantry"
The ticket clerk was passing Felix
a ticket under another mans arm.
He had turned aside from looking
i after the little fiurried woman and
laughed
Thirty, !" he said, land plain at
that Misplaced indeedl The wom-
en- for whom we do those things owe
! It to us to be pretty"
She heard and looked at him. He
had not dreamed Of that; he had
thought she was gone, but she had
just risen from picking up the last
copper from under the feet of a hur-
rying commercial traveller, and had
heard the laugh and the words. She
looked at him just for a second, not
angrily or scornfully, as such words
deserved, but humbly, deprecatingly,
remorsefully, almost, as if begging
forgiveness for her crime of ugli-
ness. Then she turned her little,
worn. brown face away and hurried
on to the platform. Felix felt as if
he had struck child.
His friend hurried him on to the
platform. He did not miss the train
after all; it had been delayed little
in consequence of the unusual and
unexpected rush of passengers. He
had time to get paper or two and
to choose a comfortable carriage,
which he had all to himself, for
the extra passengers were mostly
third class; even time to say few
words to his friend and laugh over
message or two.
When the train had started, and
he was trying to read, the worn, pa
tient little face came back to him
and reproached him. Had there been
tears in the eyes2 Had he made
this poor little creature cry by his
vulgar brutality? After all his words
had meant careless irritation that he
had, as he thought, missed his train,
more than anything else. What
right had he TO criticise2 He was
thirty himself-over thirty, and
nothing to boast of in the way cf
beauty; but then he was man.
Surely it must be bad enough to
be woman without having to be an
ugly one. Why had God made ugly
women? 1t would have been just as
easy to have made them all beauti-
full.
What makes the joy of manhood?
Strength; the knowledge of what is
sweet; the power to win and hold it.
And of womanhood2 Well, women
are never quite happy, but they
have their joys too. Love, that
makes the mans strength theirs
love, that makes their weakness
their pride because it serves as occa-
sion of a lovers tenderness, the
sweetness of being a thing desired
the hope of motherhood. But ugly
women, what have they of all thisl
Good God, to be an ugly womanl
| How had he come to forget? for he
had known this all along; those sad
patient eyes reminded him of SO
much.
To be an ugly woman-to feel
with earliest feeling that one is a
blot on beautiful world-to under
stand, as soon as understanding un-
folds, that ones part in life must be
to watch while others enjoy, long
while others attain, thirst while
others drink.
To be an ugly woman-to be an
ugly woman and know it!
And thirty years old, too-thirty
at least; no youth and no beauty
An ugly woman.
Not always old though. Once
there had been an ugly child-those
heartbroken eyes reminded him of
it. An ugly child, pushed out of the
way perpetua1ly for her beautiful
sisters a failure, an embarrassment
W ueE 1duluy, SupSIAuly. LIZ"
bitter it all wasl
An ugly grill He remembered it
so well. the hopelessness of it; the
fat dullness. Not a clever girl
either-not one who could have
taken ambition by the hand instead
of love, or made the beauty of art
her beauty Just girl, with
girls wondering curiosity of life, a
girls strange amazement at the
growth of first emotions and posi-
bilities of emotions; a girls love of
love; a girls sweet, impossible
dreams. Presently, with a girls
strange new knowledge that one
face was more to her than other
faces, one voice quicker to reach her
ear than all other voices, that one
touch had magic in it. He remem-
bered It all.
Yes, that morning, too, when in
stead of the ordinary dawn of day,
there was a new creation; the
heavens ard the earth were made
anew, and one little, thin, brown girl
sitting up wondering in her white
bed, with letter clasped fast in her
hand, saw that they were very good.
Very good; oh, very goodl Life
was beautiful, the earth glorious,