The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1901-04-23
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: FOR LOVE OF s
y
: THE CHAIRS E
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS.

the melancholy age of -. She mad SultOrS |
who courted her, but nothing came of |
their devotion.
Its the chairs" she said to friend.
Sell the chairs suggested the friend.
But l can't. They are an Inheritance. |
l have to live with them as much as | |
have to live with my own temper. If I |
can't marry a man who is able to stay |
in the same room with them on pleasant
terms l won't marry at all"
1t might have been the Christening eff
feet of her twenty-seventh birthday and !
the reflections it induced. 1t might have
been the fact that the daily struggle of
providing her chairs with roof and her.
self with other essential things was
growing wearisome. 1t might have been
Morris Hunt himself since there was
much to say in favor of his engaging
personality.
One night in that pleasant room of hers
Morris Hunt bent toward her suddenly,
without warning, as if the words could
no longer be staid
Agnes you know 1 love you. Be
my wife"
She thought she knew what her answer
would be. For days she had felt that
the time was drawing near when she
must make it. But as she looked across
at him, seated on one of the chairs, there
came u sudden revulsion of feeling-her
maidenhood fighting its last battle--the
habits of her years of independence
making their last plea. She forgot the
keen mind and the strength of charac-
ter that had so nearly won her. She re
membered some trivial trait that had
offended her cultured taste.
ooh. | cannot, l cannot" she cried.
A sob surprised her as she looked into
his hurt eyes She swallowed it bravely.
Desperate she seized upon anything by
way of explanation that might help them
both regain their composure.
Its it's the chairs, you know. You
don't fit them Tears were in her voice
Morris looked amazed. He was half in
dignant at the apparent hippancy. But
he felt the tears and behaved well.
"Neyer mind me-" he said. Don't feel
unhappy. But what is it about the
chairs z!
'These we are sitting in she went on,
encouraged. They are-they are my
grandmother's. you know. She and grand
father sat in them, day after day, many
years-a lifetime. have grown foolish
about them. They stand for so much. All
there is-family. training, race. preju-
dice, temperament. | cannot marry any
one mo isn't-who doesn't--who"
She stopped, flushing painfully.
Il scc,'' he said steadily. You cannot
marry any one who cannot sit with you
in them, day after day, side by side, with
out possibility of WEAKNESS. [ am sorry
l am not the man"
She tried to think of something to- say.
but words eluded her.
In tho cilapco olJ occarto1 IL
self. He had never given up easily what
he wanted much.
''Some time. he said. gently. "some
time | shall try again. The-the chairs
may change. Good night"
After the door closed, the deluge! As-
mes told herself firmly that she was too
old to cry. 1t did not stop the tears.
Struggling with them through the long
! night. she recalled all that had made the
/ last few months SO happy and recreatcd
the vision Of the life she might have had
! with him. When at last she fell asleep,
regret and WEAKNESS We're lying heavy at
| her heart.
People do not always awake to the
commonplace. however confidently the
may close their eyes.
Shouts. cries, the sound of people run
ming to and fro, startled Agnes Quincy
| from her slumber before it had well be-
gun. An agitated knock upon her door
and the jantor's voice brought her to her
! feet.
Fire the man shouted. The build
ing is on fire! Wake up!'
! Agnes ran to the door to find the hall
1 full of smoke. Her apartment was on
the third floor She dressed hurriedly
and, taking what money she had, ran to
the fire escape. With the help of the fire
men she reached the street safely.
1t was just dawn, and the snow was
I falling lightly. She stood Il little apart
from the crowd watching the burning
building, which, in spite of all the fire
men Were doing, seemed doomed She
could not think. The shock had stunned
| here. Presently. however. she awoke
to full sense of all that it meant to her
to lose the familiar things with which
she had been so long surrounded, value
less Us they might seem to others. Home
all ths.t she had. all that she might ever
| have--was burning over there. She
watched the flames through tears now,
her hands nervously clasping and UNI
clasping.
She had always been 4 successful wo-
man. Il fortunate woman il her way.
The knowledge that life could 60 terribly
wrong was near to her and not easily
borne. Her folly of the night before had
been bad enough in itself. But that
this, too. must come. Her books her
pictures, the personal things that women
love, her-ah, those chairs. She hid her
face in her hands
Some one touched her gently or the
arm.
Morris Hunt, Il little singed, black
with smoke. bearing upon his clothing
understandable signs of struggle, smiled
at her cheerfully
Won't YOU sit DOWN." he said. Il
came us soon as heard of the fire. You
had gone, be- | managed to bring these"
And he placed the chairs beside her
Something perhaps it was her heart
shone i'll her face. She looked at him a
long look. Then she said gravely:
Thank you. will sit down-if you
will"
SO they sat there, side by side. The
snow fell on them. and people cast curl
Gus glances 1T them, but they did not
know it. Their eyes looked beyond the
lire to the coming years. Exchange.