The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1897-01-07
MY LAST CHANCE.

my chancesp' Yes, that is what my
niece called them before she walked
from my drawing room, holding her
head very high and bestowing con-
temptuous glance at what she considered
my old maidish surroundings Your
chances!' she repeated, and, returning
to her two cherubs. left me to my fate.
And now, as | sit here alone, let me
face the question once for all. First, and
most awful for IA single woman, | am
not old, bur far, far worse-l hate the
horrid word; | am middle aged.
1t is very hard to confess, but | was
80 upon my last birthday and unmar-
ried. Not from any want of good looks,
for have, or had, more than my share.
Nor did | lack admirers, for until late
ly they We're numerous. There is not
much comfort III quoting IA man is AS
old as he feels, u woman as old as she
looks. Still can recall the incredu-
lily with which nay pretty niece regarded
me when met her advice about a most
bewitching and becoming, but, alas! too
youthful hat, with bland statement of
my years With curious stare at me,
she answered, We'll, but, Aunt Bar
bara, you never look more than %, so
that it really does not matter. " Still
the dreadful fact remains-I am 35.
Before | lose the spirit of subdued
meekness to which James candid state
ments have reduced me | viii tell over
my lost chances, " as she mercilessly
recounted them.
Ever since you were 5 or so, Aunt
Barbara, began Jane, you have turned
up your nose at and snubbed every one
of your lovers, and of course other girls
married them. There was George Mac
kenzie, tall, good looking, jolly and i'll
an excellent position.
Here | lose myself i'll "Reminiscences
of George and break in with the words,
''Do you remember the night he told us
of his visit to Spain and his experience
with the donkeys:n
Instantly Jane brushes me with the
remark, L am thinking of how a big
donkey treated him, and | can see his
haggard, drawn face AS he said Good
by to us so suddenly one summer even
ing.
And my heartstrings tighten as |. too,
remember that night, which was the
last of my happy girlish ignorance For
next day brought with it story, which
they tried to keep from me, but learned
of his disgrace, his sin and his cowardly
flight to escape it all. Thus did my hero
fall
Il always thought itstrange he never
wrote TO you" continued Jane. But l
did not tell her of the letter that years
ago | had cried over for two long nights,
then burned unopened.
Leaving out Willie Trail, :" James
merciless voice begins again, che was
too young for you, and therefore doesn t
count. Then there was Frank Smith,
the ugly, but clever literary man. You
know, Aunt Barbara, you did not treat
him we'll, for you really induced him to
dance after you and read original poems
to yon for "A whole year. Then you al
lowed the little red haired girl to marry
him. :"
Eyes, | am goaded into answering,
land she was welcome to take him. "
He was too domineering, and felt that
if he improved my mind much more it
would have been improved out of exist
ence. my dear Jane, you don't know
how l enjoyed myself after that year of
culture?'
Nonsense retorts Jane. You
would not have had to keep it up after
you married him. But | think of
Franks strong, ugly face and secretly
hug myself over that last chance. !"
"Then there was the Rev. Septimus
Green, went on candid Jane. "You
know, Aunt Barbara, you might have
married him.
Jane, " | exclaim, ''he preached at
me from the pulpit But Jane merely
answers, "He would not have done it
after you married him, and if he did Sc
lect texts and apply them to you it only
showed his eagerness.
could not see the force of her reason
ing, and, with some asperity, assured
her that | looked upon this last
CuduCt as lucky esCdpb.
after him came Harry Summers, -
she resumes in very reproachful tone,
and am goaded into asking her if she
has been keeping diary, but, disre
garding my gibe, she continues:
81 met him in Buchanan street the
other day, and ne is getting fat ! never
could understand what you quarreled
about. for you were certainly treating
him better than any of the others when
it all stopped. "
gaze away from her pretty, matron-
ly figure and think, as my hands tighten
their clasp on each other, of that weary,
weary time when it "all stopped.
1t was just about the time of James
wedding, and Md, her husband, who
never liked Harry, said that my lover
had boasted of his being acceptable to
me ON account Of his father wealth.
How could | ever have believed him
guilty of such a contemplate remark?
Yet did so and cut him dead IN the
street will never forget how he looked
as gazed straight at him, then passed
on. That is y years ago, and | have
seen him exactly seven times since then
The last time was quite recently
One day | happened to enter a ear and
sat down beside him. He looked up
from his paper, but | was gazing out at
the opposite window. After long
glance he looked down again, but with
guilty joy saw that one paragraph
/ hold % oil ha haY .