The Story of a Country TownHowe, E. W. (Edgar Watson)
General
The Story of a Country Town
Howe, E. W. (Edgar Watson)
Frontier and pioneer life -- Kansas -- Fiction
Whether Jo left a message with me for Mateel I do not now remember, it
seems so long ago, but it must have been an unimportant one if he did,
for, from the time of their separation to his death, he talked of her
only as one who had deliberately meditated and agreed to his disgrace.
Although he always loved her, he believed that his memory must have
passed entirely out of her mind during the time they lived apart, and
was ashamed to confess it, even to me, in the face of her contemplated
marriage to Clinton Bragg, which she must have known was the greatest
humiliation to which she could subject him, and if he left any word at
all, it was only a regret that their lives had been mutually so unhappy.
I had not seen her, or talked with any one who had, since the dreadful
night when I carried her moaning into her father’s house, and I knew
nothing of her except occasional rumors which came to me from people who
passed that way that she was very ill, and that but few went to the
Shepherds’, and that none of those who did ever saw Mateel.
But the appearance of her father at Jo’s grave, and his tender tribute
to the memory of my dead friend, affected me so much that I felt it my
duty to call at their house before I slept. I cannot explain this
determination further than that I was anxious to appear among them; it
may have been that I wanted to tell them how good and brave Jo had
always been, and how much he loved his wife to the last, or it might
have been that I was convinced there was some terrible mistake on our
part, for the appearance of Mr. Shepherd as we stood around the grave
implied that he had one friend among them, although we had always
imagined that they were all against him. However it was, I could not
resist the impulse to call at their house that night, and when we
arrived at the mill after the burial, I informed Barker and Agnes of my
determination. They offered no objection, if they said anything at all,
and I still remember that both bade me good-night tenderly when I drove
away into the darkness, leaving them standing at their door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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