Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1921-01-05
The Wardrobe
By AGNES C. BROGAN
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ing mahogany. The little lady who sat
retrospectively before it touched its
sides caressingly, as she peopled the
upper room of the big, shabby house
with memories. And now and again
to the old lady's eyes came a whimsi-
cal light, and to her faded lips d smile.
For back in the years in this same old
house, which was her home, she saw
vision of children, romping up the wide
stair in game of hideapd- seek, and
one little breathless maid entering this
old room to elude her pursuer, had
slipped into the wardrobe as hiding
place. But one gold-brown curl had
caught in the wardrobe door and so,
laughing and triumphant, the boy in
chase found her-and kissed her as
he drew her forth. Worthy Lane,
rocking to and fro, laughed softly at
the memory. He was such Il daring
boy, that David of long ago, and yet,
withal, gentle and kind. What a small
tyrant she had been, and how he had
suffered through her caprices. There
was the year that she was going away
to school, and the big house was light
ed from basement to attic, while she,
fine and important in her crimson me-
rino gown, had taken her old playfel-
low up to the guestroom during the
evening to show him her new party
frock. Here it hung, in the old pol
ished wardrobe, fresh from Miss Pals
ley's needle; and David sighed as he
praised it, saying:
"Some lucky fellow will fall in love
with you in that frock, Worthy" and
some lucky fellow had.
Rocking now, meditatively, Worthy
wondered if Henry Lane had been, af-
ter all, triumphant in his choice. She
had faithfully tried to be a good wife
to Henry, and succeeded at least In
keeping from him the knowledge of
life had been together in the depths of
the girls miserable heart was always
a haunting realization of love for an
other. She had never dreamed that
her true love was David's-David sure
ly was but playfellow, companion and
friend.
It was only after her betrotLal that
the amazing Consciousness dawned
upon her-as she was showing David
her wedding gown. The wardrobe
had never borne a lovelier BURDEN
the silvery brocade cleaned in the
lamplight, and David, white and silent,
had turned away. 1t was not like him,
she thought, disappointedly, to be I'M
sympathetic. Then Worthy knew. She
could almost see, now, the wedding
brocade still hanging there in the twi-
light but 1t was but shadow vision,
after all. The woman came abruptly
to the matter-of-fact present. How
much might she hope to get for the
wardrobe at the antique shop? Worthy
had gone to the nearby town to view
an Old Ladies' home. She had saved
thousand dollars and residence in
solution of her old age. One may not
live forever without friendly care.
There were no younger descendants
that she might turn to; so, in cheerful
resignation, Worthy laid her plans.
Then she arose briskly to light the
massive od-fashioned chandelier-the
gentleman of the antique shop had Of
fered to stop on his homeward drive
to inspect the wardrobe. He had lis
tened kindly, this courteous old man,
to Worthy's request, and his keen dark
eyes noted the mended places in her
gray gloves, while the usefulness of
her voice strangely stirred him. He
was surprised at his own suggestion of
stopping at the house. He was an odd,
gentle creature, this collector of an
tiques; it was known that the shop
was not continued because of its sales
value-the owner was independently
rich, and as charitable as retiring.
When he stood before Worthy
Lanes wardrobe his sharp eyes roved
about the old room, coming back again
wonderingly to rest on her face. In
her excitement two young pink spots
glowed in Worthy's cheeks and she put
up a slim hand to brush back vagrant
white curl--the very ghost of the curl
that had fastened itself long ago in
the wardrobe door.
81 do believe" said the old man,
slowly, land surely | cannot be mis-
taken, that this is Worthy Lane.
remember your home" he went on, as
she stood making no reply.
81 remember the old wardrobe, and
-" he laughed softly-"I remember
you. am Davidw
Still Worthy could find no words.
II supposed that you remained away.
l did not know that you ever came
back. Your husband-is dead?"
Then, seated in the room of memo
ries, Worthy answered all his gentle
questioning-tol him all that had
been. And all at once 1t was not an
old man who sat there in the room
nor little white-haired lady, but just
David, understanding and true, and
Worthy, still sweet and fair.
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