Short Story

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 367, 21 May 1903, Page 7

Short Story

Jack Barry walked oat.of the hotel the picture of physical health and strength. He was hanrsom , toe, and. had he been rich, the pirl who coald have refused his proffered hard would have been a cariosity. Ba f , alas! litre most of his comrade?, he was poor. Not that he cared a continental, as he would have said himself, bat he ascribed the one back-hand slap that he had ever received from Dame Fortune to his poverty. Of course it was a pirl that did it. Young officers,take nothing seriously except girla—and, unfortunately, very few girls tike young officers seriously. It is one thing to flirt and d-ince with a handsome fellow in uniform, with a stripe oa hia trousers and painfully new-looking shoulder-straps on nil shoulders, and quite another to marry. him. Jac'c had fallen ia love with a girl abacs'; before the ink on his commission was dry; he nad—daneed "attendance' to her a whole, summer at the seaside, and just b ;'*ore he left to j in his regiment he bad proposed and been quietly, but firmly, rejected. 4 ..-.;• •' a i The rejection was a stunner. .He-was. convinced that the' girl was in love with him, He rather thought that he was treating her with unusual fairness, by little haf-whispercd' Ho.' He hardly believed hia own ears when ehfl said in. Then he suddenly discovered how-much he really did love her. He could not live without her—no, not a day. He meditated' suicide all' one night, resolved to commit it, unfortunately went to sleep in his chair, woke up with an enormous appetite, ate a good breakfast, and—changed bis mind. He concluded that it would be much more romantic, and would make her feel worse, to waste his life, and then, someday, to tell her it was all her fault, Ah! She would understand it all then. After joining' hts regiment, ' however,' Jack did not get an opportunity to waste his life. His culonel was an ideal cavalryman, there was plenty of work to do, and he spent two yeara practically abroad. It was a good thing for h™. It kept his miad at work; ha. had no opportunity to spend his salary, and therefore was obliged to save it; so that at the end ef that time, when he managed to get a'three months' leave of absence, he had a little money and a good deal -of common-sense. He had developed. He did propose to do one thing, however, and that -was -to get to London as fast as railroads could carry him, call on her, and let her know how well he was getting along without her. He reached hia.. hotel at n oen—he was just leaving Tris hotel to call on her at eight. ilvi'OJ She lived in May fair. It was a delightful winter night, with a full moos, and he walked down to. the house, repeating on the way, a dozen times or more, the question : Is Miss Burroughs at. home P So that his voice would 1 not tremble the slightest particle even befon the-servant. His voice did not tremble,.either, when the critical moment arrived, but be was a little astonished that the servant should usher him into the drawing-room without saying a word, or even asking for his name. He was still more astonished to find that there was no light in the roam save the stream of moonlight that slanted in at the windows, and the faint reflection from the street. Astonishment was not tbu word forget occasion when be saw Violet Burroughs -herself leaning on the window in moonlight; and he almost gasped when she said in the moat matternot way, ' I knew you would come back.' 'Did you?' he exclaimed, sinking uninvited into a chair. I■• - Kenans w [ 'Yes,' she repeated. Then he noticed that she was crying. f .'« '*'' * ? 1 1 hope that I d°oa'tinl?rude—perhaps I had better call again ?' She paid noaattaatita to the suggestion, but. still looking out of the window, said:— 'Your voice" has changed already—a great deal.' ' Yer, I suppose it has,' he answered. ' You said you would be a changed man, bat l <¥ not fgffi^ ifc^ o,l ¥ }&*% J°* KS»sfni*w*** 'My voice?—l did not know that it wa*. I'll havajt trained——' j •How can"ou jest? You know 1 mean this affair of ours—your love for me.' .'«- ; 'Oh!' 'When you jest you make me feel that you are desperate. You will not commit suicide, will you ?* "....-/ .***\* ' "w The coavenation was. becoming. rather rapid. Jack fad called for the purpose of saying not a word concerning (the old love that he bad. bo manfully buried—for the purpose, too, of letting her see how well he had buried it, and how nicely he was getting along without her after all; and here she was plunging into it herself in an almost unladylike manner, and dragging him along with her. Mote than that, aha was rapidly c pening the old wounds; and, still more, she was resurrecting the old love. Why was j£e crying ?>Why did she expect him ? How did ehe even know be was in town ? She must have"expecte d him to call that very evening, else she would not be acting in this, to say the least, highly informal manner. But the thing that pitased him most was .the fact tfcat the whog tiling was so fresh in hei mind. It v. as possible that even now she might be #on by aim. He answered hei last question:— * I did think of suicide, but I gave the idea up. Theio was. to live for; there are too many changes of luck; toe many opportunities to win in the eac what was refused in the beginning ' * Oh, no—no —uo—do not think that yoi can ever win inxhjval' ---- - ■»■ "^ ' But, Miss "sarroughß, I did not come here to win your love. You may remem bar that when we parted you assured m< that you had ,a.great respect for me,-thai you hoped you would see me often, ii fact —er—l believe you said—er—thai you would bea aster to me, or ecmethinj like that —aid I had no intention of com.' polling you to receive my un welcome at tenbons.' * But yon love me?' f «Well—ei—l ' «You mustleve me '

THE OLD LOVE.

' It shall be just as you say !' '* do not mean that, either. Yon would not have acted as you did unless yon loved me. •Well, 111 acknowledge' (he was getting just a little tender now) 'I do love you. I've tried to forget joa, but I couldn't >.- * ° --•■■'- 'You haven't had a very lone time to try to forget.' '» ll * B . Bcemfi d Very long indeed to ml' ■/♦ ' haa t^me ' ty°i I ft »T« been sitting here at this window cryine ever since. ' \ ". .' £._ i This was a stunner. Sitting there crying ever Bince P Was it possible, or was she ciazy t :■ ■ ~ > ■ The girl continued: «But Ido not love you, and no matter what papaand mamma say, I.will never marry you! I have never told you the reason why. I'll tell yon now. I love another.' ---*<'- '-■»' , ,'Anothet?' ' Yep, and have for a .long time, and I never expect to see him again, for I sent nun away, and he may be dead .now, poor .feltow! I thought it would be fun' to reject himi and I really dfd»*t know how 3 much I cared for him, and then I thought he wouldn't take 'no' for an aaswer. But oh! he did, and I have been the most miserable girl in the world ever since. I love him!-I love him!—l love, him!— and he cugbt to have sense enough to ; know it!' She 4 broke into sobs, burying 1 her head in her hands ' Then it has always been quite a hopeJesaxase, so far as I am concerned ?' £ how bravely I ■ caniftahd it Let me- be a brother to you. Tell me who he is. . I'll go to him and i bring him back to you. I have an idea that he will be very giad to come; whoever he is.' j.." ■'■ .<■ r. ; t No'—with a shake of the head— ♦ he is too proud. He will never come back to me.' •Tellme who he isP 'You know him,' •' ■ ~ .'Welir •He is Mr. John Barry, and is in the army. You remember him at the seaside ! two years ago.' Jack pinched,, himself- -to discover i whether he was really awake or dreaming. 'He felt like shouting,-but concluded, that it wouldn't JwJ ouite the corrgefc .titfag. . He wanted to laugh with happiness, but he couldn't laugh while £he was crying there m the corner. He iaw it all now; " She thought she was talking to some ..other;fellow whom she had refused jußt before. . Finally, he said, though : . •" 'Yes, I -knowhiini.very' well, r but he : , , too, has changed.' : J 'Jn what way ?' she asked anxiously, i g .' Well, his voice has changed, too.* ' That's nothing. I don't care how he has changed, if he only loves me as he used to.* ; ,j£V'.\ ~ .xi'/LVJi 'He does—and, by the way, his voice is very much like raise now.' 1 It was not the words used, but the tone of voice in which- he had ■ spoken them, that gave her woman's intuition the spur. She looked quickly up. He was standing now where she could catch the outlines of his figure. She uttered a little exclamatioa, and—well, this is the .end of-.my-stery.