Gloucester County Democrat., 1897-02-04
MY LAST CHANCE.

s4@A-OO "
from my drawing room, holding her
head very high and bestowing a con-
temptuous glance at what she considered
my old maidish surroundings "Your
chancesr' she repeated, and, returning
to her two oherubs. left me to my fate.
And now, as / sit here alone, let me
face the question once for all. First, and
most awful for a single woman, am
not old, but far. far worse-T hate the
horrid word; / am middle aged.
1t is very hard to confess, but was
S5 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 were numerous. There is not
much comfort in quoting "a man is as
old as he feels, a woman as old as she
looks. Still can recall the incredu-
lity with which my pretty niece regarded
me when met her advice about most
bewitching and becoming, but, alas! toe
! youthful hat, with bland statement of
my years. With curious stare at me,
she answered, "Well, but, Aunt Bar
bara, you never look more than 20, SO
that it really does not matter. - Still
| the dreadful fact remains-I am 35.
Before l lose the spirit of subdued
meekness to which Jane's candid state
ments have reduced me will tell over
my 'tlost chances, :" as she merciIessly
recounted them.
Ever since you were 18 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 Mao
kenzie, tall, good looking, jolly and in
an excellent position.
Here lose myself in "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?"
Instantly Jane crushes me with the
remark, 81 am thinking of how a big
donkey treated him, and I can see his
haggard, drawn face as he said Good
by to us so suddenly one summer even
ing"
And my heartstrings tighten as l, 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 I learned
of his disgrace, his sin and his cowardly
flight to escape it all. Thus did my hero
fall
81 always thought it strange he never
wrote to you,' continued Jane. But /
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, "he was
too young for you, and therefore doesn' 4
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 tc
dance after you and read original poems
to you for whole year. Then you al
lowed the little red haired girl to marry
| him. -
"Yes," am goaded into answering,
"and she was welcome to take him. y
He was too domineering, and l felt that
if he improved my mind much more ii
would have been improved cut of exist
ence. My dear Jane, you don't know
how I enjoyed myself after that year Of
culture?'
"NonsenseP' retorts Jane. "You
would not have had to keep it up after
you married him. But l 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," / exolaim, 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 tho force of her reason
ing, and. with some asperity, assured
her that I looked upon this ''last
chance" as lucky escape.
kA4gO1 AI1u lA0ILy
she resumes in a very reproachful tone,
and am goaded into asking her if she
has been keeping diary; but, disre-
garding my gibe, she continues:
II met him in Buchanan street the
other day, and he 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. "
I 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 Ned, her husband, who
never liked Harry, said that my lover
had boasted of his being acceptable to
me on account Of his fathers wealth.
How could / ever have believed him
guilty of such a contemplate remark?
Yet did SO and cut him dead in the
street. Twill never forget how he looked
as gazed straight at him, then passed
on. That is 10 years ago, and / have
seen him exactly seven times since then.
The last time was quite recently.
One day happened to enter Car 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
held his eyes all the way. Even then it
was not too late, if / had only spoken;
but, no, was determined to be fool,
and when reached my street left the
car seemingly unconscious of his pres
enee.
am conscious that have never given
him a chance to explain, but the only
comfort have-and it is slight one
he has never married But has he for
gotten it all, or does he, as / do, think
Of the old, happy times with regret?
But am brought back to a sense of
the present by Jane pronouncing new
name with special emphasis. While 1
have been lost in the past she has been
piling up my iniquities in the shape of
every man with whom have been on
friendly terms during the last-ten years.
including the poor unfortunate who ran
away from his bride. In vain declare
that / was not to blame. Jane calmly
informs me that encouraged him and
that people talked.
OF course people will talk, but have
no qualms Of conscience. Still Jane goes
- - - 4 a y