The Story of a Country Town

by E. W. Howe

It was turning out as I had expected after the appearance of Mr. Shepherd at the grave, but how distressed I was to realize that the explanation came after Jo was dead, and Mateel hopelessly ill, I am not competent to write; I could say nothing then, as I can write nothing now, of the horror I felt when I knew that all this misery had been unnecessary. As Mateel stood before me she staggered in her weakness, and her mother hurried to her side, but again she put her off, and stood erect with an effort.

“I must tell you, to relieve my own mind, if for nothing else, that I have always been true to you, and that I only consented to receive Clinton Bragg in this house in the hope that you would rescue me. I was afraid it might be wrong, but I did not know what else to do. I hoped that when you heard that he was coming here, you would walk in like the brave man that you are, and demand to know what it meant; then you would give me opportunity to explain, and I hoped you would praise me for making us happy again.”

I thought that her father and mother were surprised at this, for they looked curiously at each other, and Mr. Shepherd’s hand went to his head again—I thought to upbraid it for not discovering the secret sooner.

“I am sorry it has offended you, Jo, but I could think of nothing else, and I desired to see you so much. I was always weak and helpless, and perhaps I did wrong, but I felt that I must do something. When still you did not come, I let it be said that I intended to marry him, but it was all for love of my husband; God is my witness and I appeal to Him! I had no more thought of marrying him than I had of forgetting you, but because you still delayed, I let the time be set, believing that you would not allow it to go on, and give me opportunity to explain. When the day arrived, I determined to let it go on, and if you did not rescue me from him before I passed our home on the way to town, I would take one fond look at the place where I was once so happy, and kill myself, so that I might be carried dead where I was refused admission alive. I was very firm in this purpose, and would have carried it out. See, I have the knife yet.”

She took from her bosom a dirk knife of peculiar pattern, which Barker had given Jo and me when we were boys, and we had sharpened it so often that the blade was very thin and delicate. She tested its sharpness by passing her finger across its edge, and, holding it toward me, asked me to see how keen it was.

“When you sprang out from among the trees on that dreadful night (I had been expecting you to spring out just as you did every moment during the ride), my joy was so great that I fainted, and when I awoke it was with such a strange feeling in my head; but I will recover soon and then we shall be happy once more. I can’t remember when it happened; yesterday, maybe, but not long ago, and when I asked for you, mother said you had gone out, but would return presently if I waited patiently. After I had waited a long while I wanted to go to you, for I knew you loved me, and wanted me to come, but they said I must wait. I did whatever they told me, for they said I must or you would not come at all. But won’t you speak to me now, since I have explained it all?”

She was again on her knees before me, and looking earnestly into my face; at first entreatingly, but suddenly I saw a change, and there was alarm in her pale face. She recognized me I thought, and I steadily looked at her that she might realize her mistake.

Hurriedly rising to her feet, she walked to the other side of the room, and stood beside her mother, with an arm on her shoulder, still looking at me in alarm and fright.

“Oh, mother,” she said hesitatingly, “maybe it is not Jo. What if he should be dead and never know! Wouldn’t that be terrible!”

She was so much exhausted now that she started wearily to return to her bed, still looking at me as she went, apparently better convinced than ever that I was not Jo, and her father and mother tenderly supported her as she walked. They slowly passed through the door and into her room, and I saw them gently lay her down, where she asked again in a weak but excited voice if it wouldn’t be terrible if Jo were dead and would never know. I looked again, and saw Mr. Shepherd and his wife kneeling at the foot of the bed, convulsively sobbing, each one trying to comfort the other, and both of them trying to comfort Mateel. I noticed then that the minister and his wife were poorly dressed; that the furniture of the rooms was threadbare and old, and it came to my mind that they were very poor, and had been cruelly neglected by those around them. All these circumstances affected me so much that I stepped out at the front door to recover myself, and was surprised to find Agnes and Barker at the gate.