Shall He Wed Her?
by Anna Katherine Green
When I met Taylor at the Club the other night, he looked so cheerful I scarcely knew him.
“What is it?” cried I, advancing with out-stretched hand.
“I am going to be married,” was his gay reply. “This is my last night at the Club.”
I was glad, and showed it. Taylor is a man for whom domestic life is a necessity. He has never been at home with us, though we all liked him, and he in his way liked us.
“And who is the fortunate lady?” I inquired; for I had been out of town for some time, and had not as yet been made acquainted with the latest society news.
“My intended bride is Mrs. Walworth, the young widow—”
He must have seen a change take place in my expression, for he stopped.
“You know her, or course?” he added, after a careful study of my face.
I had by this time regained my self-possession.
“Of course,” I repeated, “and I have always thought her one or the most attractive women in the city. Another shake upon it, old man.”
But my heart was heavy and my mind perplexed notwithstanding the forced cordiality of my tones, and I took an early opportunity to withdraw by myself and think over the situation.
Mrs. Walworth? She is a pretty woman, and what is more, she is to all appearance a woman whose winning manners bespeak a kindly heart. “Just the person,” I contemplated, “whom I would pick out for the helpmate of my somewhat exacting friend, if—” I paused on that if. It was a formidable one and grew none the smaller or less important under my broodings. Indeed, it seemed to dilate until it assumed gigantic proportions, worrying me and weighing so heavily upon my conscience that I at last rose from the newspaper at which I had been hopelessly staring, and looking up Taylor again asked him how soon he expected to become a benedict.
His answer startled me. “In a… Read More