As I took the proffered seat I gazed steadily at my hostess. A woman in possession of all her natural charms, a picture of health, a vision of grace and an example of nobility. Time had softened her features; the sweetness of childhood had grown tenfold in the process of matronly perfection. The erectness of carriage, the finely traced features, the shapely hand and dainty foot, so highly arched, denoted the purest type of refinement, while no artist conceived more graceful curves than those which were so plainly noticeable as one ran one’s eyes from head to feet; gowned in some soft, clinging black silk, the contour of her figure was a feast for the eyes of gods. The soft, dulcet tones in which she plainly articulated, were of sufficient sweetness to attract one to her if that were the only charm which she could bring to bear.
Nothing had been left undone in the furnishing of the elegant house in which she lived; rich draperies adorned the walls, tapestry of the rarest quality fittingly relieved the handsome oriental rugs and handsomely frescoed ceilings. Potted plants placed here and there sent out such a fragrant odor that it was almost impossible for one to believe that it was midwinter and that the mercury hovered uncomfortably near zero. The bric-a-brac and pictures were so well selected and artistically arranged that one could readily see the rare good taste and culture which was a dominant feature in the appointment of the entire establishment. The cheeriness seemed to add a halo to the surroundings; the perfect harmony with which all things were blended seemed to soften one’s nature to a sense of responsibility toward things infinite.
Large, liquid brown eyes rested softly on me, and the satiny complexion of Mrs. Penway glowed with such a beaming radiance of congeniality that despite her forty or more years, I felt as though I were basking in the sunshine of youthful smiles. Coupled with all the beauty and symmetry there was a distinct imprint of sadness on her features, which was readily detected. They were not the hardened lines which denote misery and want as associates to suffering, not the expression of hardship, but rather that “resigned to duty” look.
After commenting on the weather and general topics of the day I came to the point by asking Mrs. Penway if she had her narration written.
“No; I think, Mr. Philmore, that I shall recite the incidents to you as they transpired and ask you to be kind enough to arrange the statement into sentences best suited to your purpose.”
“Very well, I will do the best I can to tell the tale in a readable manner.”
“To begin with, I am a native of Southern Missouri. My parents being Scotch, I feel that my ancestry is traceable through a long line of descendants. My father was engaged in the lumber business. It was his custom to buy large tracts of timber land, then placing his mill at convenient points he would proceed to convert all the available timber into marketable lumber. Money proved to be the blessing and curse, which was eventually the cause of more suffering than one cares to bear.
“Years ago my father purchased a body of land in Arkansas, covering an area of twelve thousand acres. In the transaction he became financially involved to such an extent that he was compelled to go for assistance to some of the large dealers to whom he was in the habit of selling the greater part of his output. At this call for aid a man came to our home to talk the matter over. He had the appearance of being a man of fifty years of age; he was wealthy, very wealthy; he remained there for ten days, during which time he seemed to grow very fond of me as a child and would often pat me on the head, coaxingly calling me his little girl.
“After he had gone, I overheard my parents talking. Father said, ‘Well, that is a load off my mind.’ ‘And one off mine,’ said my mother. Then she broke down and cried. Between the sobs I could gather but little. However, I heard her say, ‘I know she will never be happy.’