SHORT STORY

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 410, 17 March 1904, Page 7

SHORT STORY

Auu left school with a certain amount of superficial knowledge, and an idea that the was a «eniua. Sue was very much grieved to discover, on returning to her father's house, that the home environment was quite incompatible with hex mental developments She 'found hex family terribly commonplace; they were people for whom all the trivial incidents of life were magnified into events of importance. She pitied and despised the littleness of their ways. They went to church regularly, and -kept Christmas, and entertained old-fashioned views with regard to daughters, Mr. Prince, who ' was a gourmet in a small way, proposed that Alma should receive lessons in oo«ny; he thought fhe might very well supervise the preparation ot his dinner*. Mrs Prince, who fancied herself a re * Hgious woman, would have liked to see her daughter engaged in pariah work—« wholesome interest for young girls; but Ahum diriiked curates. The younger members of the household, noisy youths, whose garments Alma was supposed to keep ia repair, considered their sister to be a very disagreeable young woman. She felt vaguely annoyed with them, because their appetites were healthy. Alma, thrown upon her own resources, commenced to write.. At school she had imagined herself a -poet, bat how she began the writing of stories. She went to far as to commence a novel, but a failure to find * suitable title cauwd har to relinquish it after the third chapter. It was really a grave misfortune for her when one of her attempts at literature was accepted and printed, and paid for by an editor in London. Alma's belief in herself was mtensined; she became a woman of ambitions; she felt now that aha had a metier. She declared these convictions to her father. She desired, Alma said, to carve out her own fortune. She was very eloquent indeed, and felt sure that she must impress her parent But Mr Prince ridiculed the notion. He pointed out that toe only desirable vocation open to women was fiiat of marriage; he even did not approve of the vocation, of an old maid. He, too, was eloquent, and thought himself convincing. Alma explained that she did act consider marriage desirable. She spoke of bondage. The young men of her' acquaintance were so very ordinary; they possrosed not a single original idea amongst them; they assimilated theirs * from books; so did Alma, only hers were different books. Alma's father considered her undutiful, but Mrs- Prince endeavoured to solace him by observing that this was but a phrase; in time, the dear child— Bat the dear chM didn't. Instead, by another stroke of ill-luck, again ia the guise of good fortune, an uncle chanced to die at torn' time, and Alma came into a small sum of j money. This decided her Jin her Una of action. She thought she would like to live by herself,- she had read of such tilings in novels; so she resolved to come to London, aa other geniuses had done before her. There was much perturbation in the Prince household when this decision became known; there were -expostulations, threats, and even team—these from portly Mrs Prince—but Alma stood firm, She was fully determined on this one point, that she would not sacrifice her life to the prejudices of relation*, who could not discern her cleverness, who were not is the least interested in her career. Soshe left them., ,»-.., She took a small room in a cheap teighbcurhood-*-ehe had sensible ideas on economy—and, surrounded by horse-hair f omitnre, determined to work hard. She might hare worked at home ia far greater comfort if she had been so minded, but independence was sweet, however dearly purchased. .She called upon the editor who had accepted her story (he must be a smart editor, aha reflected) with a handle of fresh manusanpts is her hand, expecting to meet with a royal welcome. She was received with a calmness that perplexed Alma; she was yet more astonished when,'after a short interval, hex work was returned—with thanks. This waa dispiriting for a start, but Alma was persereriug. Shewroteon, hopefully at first, determined to make her way. The struggle waa hard, the profits small, and the returns qaiek. Bufi, she did not falter or doubt herself for some time to come.. By industrious plodding, b'is succeeded" in obtaining some smaU amount of success—a few articles planted in second-rate magarihec, half a doses poems printed in the pages of a woman's paper, and—that was all. At last, there came a day when she knew not only that she was no genius, but also'that she was not even clever. The discovery seemed to come quite suddenly and byehaaoe; yet, as wkn all discoveriee, things had bees tending in that direction for some tine past. She had written some short stories, which she thought to be excellent; she had thrown into them the best work of which she was capable, and, in point of fact, she knew that she never could do anything better. 80 she showed them to a critic. He waa an ordinary critic, but a competent judge, being himself a writer whom the much admired. Sheasked him to read teem, and to pronounce candid Jidgment thereos> He did read them most carefully, and was genuinely sirry for Alma. She fannied herself as artist in words i but hex's ware mere feeble imitations of various steles. But, being a truthful critic, he did not scruple to tell herthisv She learned that theories on which she had expended her mental all were worthless. Alma walked back to her lodgings like one wakened from a pleasaat dream. She was wretched at thus being brought face to face with the reality of thfa « fc V l ß * B s*" "uterable; it is always miserable to have one's religious belief in oneself destroyed. And she possessed such confidence in herown powers; it was overwhelming. But she continued to write, merely for a livelihood, not for fame ; she would never reach that Aim* became, under the pseudonym of 'Myrtle, angular and valued contributor to tie 'Home Guide.' She hated it Sue hated advising its readers on the, to hex, uninteresting subjects of their complexions, and dress, and love affairs. She disliked intensely to simulate rapture over a bonnet or gown; the illiterate ■ effusions from foolish readers annoyed and disgusted her. But she continued, grimly, in the path she had elected, even descending to novelties. This irritation would reflect itself in her productions. She would not allow the dote to marry the

Woman's Whole Existence.

pteccy governess, not even to the end of toe tale, and the hero who missed the DoauWul girl never found her. She was asked by her publisher to remedy tbiß; the young woman who was responsible for the being of the 'Empress objected to pes Bimiatie conclusions. They liked all thinera to end happily. ° ~~* - - *-~ • • * The years stealthily, like the advancing tide, made their way onward. In toe passing, they robbed Alma of her youth, but brought her no compensating joy. She lived now in the unknown Kensington with a young friend. Phyllis was an art student, not without ambition, who attended classes in the neighbourhood. It was a matter of mild - wonder to Alma when one of the noisy young brothers of old days evolved into a man with a future. He was a rißing - doctor, who had married a rich woman, and lived in Harley Street She would sometimes visit them. But she was diecontented, I and weary, and thirty-five. Further, she felt that there wss no aim or object in her colourless existence. Her life was paralysed; ahe had no hope, only a deadening consciousness of failure. She thought her life over, when as yet she had not tasted its meaning.

They were introduced at a dinner. In after years she remembered very well the flower he wore in hi 9 coat that night although she could not recollect the name *of her hostess of the cecasion. He s.emed to stand out prominently among the other guests; she could not tell why. He was ajmari of about forty, tanned by,a too-warm sun, and he wore an order on his coat He took her into dinner. She learnt that he wss Bokeby, the explorer; she had heard of Bokeby, and was pleased .to know him. He spoke well, even brilliantly. She decided that he was a clever as well ss a brave man, and he seemed interested in her. Afterwards, in the drawing-room, everyone was talking about him. It was a pity, they agreed, that he was not to remain long in England. An expedition was being spoken of, and his name was us ad in its connection. She spent a most enjoyable evening, and returned heme curiously cheerful. Phyllis.. brushing her long, fair hair, commented on the circumstance.

*Yes,\ said Alma, brightly, 'it .was really very pleasant. There were people there worth meeting. And I was taken into dinner by the lion of the evening— Bokeby, the explorer"; you' have heard of him? He spoke of his travels in bo refreshingly modest a manner.' 'What is he like?' inquired Phyllis, nterested. ' Charming. But you will see him; he has asked permission to call.' ■ Alma took off her cloak, and surveyed hersslf in the mirror. She studied hersalf attentively; as a rule, she was a woman who took no pleasure at her own reflection. It did not pleasa her now. With pain, she observed to," many small lines which had crept into her face, chasing youth relentlessly before them. And her mouth (it had once been a pretty mouth) -drooped unbecomingly at the corners; therein had her judgment of life revealed itself with unspoken eloquence. Uhbeautiful angles were fast replacing curves. She was beginning to look old. The hideousness of it rent her soul. She shuddered as she turned away. She regretted her thirty-five years.

Phyllis had undertaken the furnishing of their zooms She had definitely succeeded in impressing her own personality on their arrangement. They were charming, and not in the slightest degree redolent of Tottenham Court Road. There were long, warm rugs strewn on a floor well polished, and Japueee prints on the walls, and some ©ld Delft artistically placed. The furniture—the rooms were not over-crowded —was Dutch inlaid, and there were always flowers, which rendered the atmosphere fragrant, and delightful. Bokeby was pleasingly impressed; he was one who judged all men by their 'lares' and 'penatee.' He liked the artistic simplicity of Alma's home; at bo many places there was * t distinct suggestion of furniture show-rooms. He thought Fhyllis's hair pretty. He called again. He liked much to discuss his travels in far-off lands with Alma, and art with Phyilis-4he'dißdov ered Phyllis to understood pictures. He called often. ..J**? 0 rtmarked n PO* this fact j she did not see the happy, shy eyes which Alma turned away, nor did she notice the tremor which seized the large white hands. Had she done so, Bhe would have been surprised. Phyllis was very young, and regarded her friend as almost a centenarian. Yet Alma was quite unreasonable satisfied with life at this period. A miahadrolled away; she found most things different in aspect, and wondered, because -she had found new eyes wherewith to seer The spring had come. Certainly, spring was a delightful season. The weather warm, the days were beautifully light. It pleased her sometimes to see a blue patch of sky above the gloomy London streets. The laughter of children* the sound even of a piano-organ, filled her with an unaccountable exhilaration. But for this last she reproached- herself; she thought that she could have no soul. It was Alma's habit to go several mornings of the week to town. As a rule, she took an omnibus to tiie Park, across which she would walk. She had one favourite path, lined with tall trees, which just now began to show green shoots. The twittering of mateseeking bird* caused tears of pure happiness to spring to her eyes. The breeze gladdened her, so that she would step out briskly. The greenness of the grass anc stray sunbeams rejoiced her exceedingly. Sometimes, in the early morning, when no one was about; she would run. *ea, she reflected, life could be made tolerable. So far, she admitted, it had for her betn a failure. Someone once remarked that a woman should be either never or mamed. She had fancied herself clever at one time, whioh was an absurd notion.' Now she only laughed gaily to herself. She was not sure that she wanted to be clever. And she had the remainder of her life before her. She, »£££»*& b ? ttom °. £ her o^er-fnil heart pitied the aermaphroditic creatures of her accinaintance—womsn who were KtSS b ff nße , they wonld Dot 8 «>. *ho SSffti th « mael 7 eB 1 false deas. They did not understand the meaning of life; she had only juat begun to nmW stand it herself, tie knowledge was "weefc to acquire. Because it had been delayed S? «^ n ?i lfc waa no leßß **»utiful. She pitied them, because they missed happi!

what Phyllis would flunk .-';-• • v • • * .-.-"- • £ sT* B * gay. and Alma young, in all save outward seeming.? Alma -was bright and lively; on the old Erard, she would now •Jhoose to .play joyous creations <fthjfe -•weatned'forth hope; except at the times when she thought of a forthcoming—too soon Then ■OTrowrul little melodies (the Nooturneß of Chopin) would sadden the air, and make Phyffis'a lips to quiver, and her «*ge grey eyes to reflect a troubled soul. To Easter, which she waß to spend wijfch s£l°** : PWple. JPhyllia looked forward, wrth reluctance. Dear lost? its once potent attractions; 'she" cared hot" for the prospect of roaming through green fields; she would fain remain in the Kensington home, in a London which never knew the beauties, of an early summer. It was a thousand pities that Bokeby should be kept indoors by. a malicious influenza just at *-H» time she Btarted. She did not see him.before she went away. * * * Bokeby had certainly been ill; he looked eo when next he called. Afiußb of" pleasure crept to Alma'B face as she welcomed him. He inquired after Phylliß. Alma spore on many subjects; of his bookwhich had just been reviewed—she was.glad it was Bpoken well of—about the papers he had read, some time previously, s befcreoneof the learned societies—of a hundred different things. She 'was nervous and excited because it was eo pleasant to see him spaia. The past week had been long. Bokeby, was restless'; he seemed to have something of importance which weighed on his mind so that he could speak of nothing with attention. He walked up and down the. room whilst Alma watched him. She always watched him thus when tie eyes were turned. . At last he said.'with a suddenesa that startled ;her: ' ?, ;: 5 '.'"■ > ; ".-■-. -'-. jli 'We start-neat week.' '*'. The swoid had ssapped its thread and fallen. ■.-.--■■ 'So soon.' Alma's lips were pale. Her tongue seemed tied. ■ Yes, everything was rather settled in a hurry. I shall leave oa Tuesday for the Congo Basin.' • I—l shall mis? you,' said Alma. Her mind was full of a hundred Bpeechesfbut they got confused and entangled, so that she conld say nothing with coherence. Arnold; Bokeby smiled a pleasing smile of friendship, and grasped her cold hand within his own. . 'K w good of you r » he said earnestly,; 'I shall never forget you, never. I owe, • I think I may say, my greatest happiness in life to you. \ -•. ■ The colour leapt to Alma's white face. He would have read a revelation in the adoring eyes .if ha hadbut looked. But bis thoughts were wandering; he was trying to picture to himßelf a small Devonshire village. /Yes,' he repeated, 'my greatest hapyou think so P' She thought of throwing her arms round his neck, and: of whispering a passionate answer in his ear. But something restrained her as yet; she wanted to hear him plead for her'love—the love she had already bestowed, and which she could never take away. And he did not know. . -,"..;;.'■.' ... ".

•Phyllis js'very youHg,*" said he; 'I am afraid; she may think me old. Twenty years is a great disparity.' 1 Phyllis! j She thought that someone had struck er a heavy blow on the head. She reathed with difficulty. She was dazed. And a hundred remorseless echoes were repeating the name; they shrieked it into her ear. She wanted to rush away somewhere—anywhere. She certainly could; not understand what he was, speaking of how. Bokebyu ticed nothing. ~ ■I have writtenPyllis a^letter. I want to post it, and to get a reply by Tuesday, before I leave England. I want to take England ..with me in her consent. Will you give me her address P' Alma smiled a pale smile. She had been mad, and was sane again. ' I will send it for yon,' she said;quietly. :.•.'" - : 0:r-:' ; A ' Thanks, a thousand thanks.' . He handed her the letter; she took it; with a frozen hand. - 'I shall not rest till Tuesday,' said the lover j 'if I receive no answer I Bhall know that she does not care for me. I have asked her not to reply if the answer is to be a refusal. I could not bear to open such a letter.' . Alma felt as if she were going mad; he could speak only of Phyllis, and of his love and of his fear. But at length he rose and shook hands. She heard the door close after him. It was soon over. On the table, where she had put it, lay the doctor's, envelope. And on a sudden it came to her that no answer might reach him. The next minute she dismissed the thought, as a thousand recollections of Phyllis came to her. She knew that Phyllis loved him. Loved P Phyllis had often Shyly expressed admiration for him; that is, if the letter were not poshed. He would leave "rue country, and he would return; and then Alma:—he must care for her then.. She would burn it.. •■ What made her change, her mind she never knew. But she decided to send off the letter. She ran out into the street hatless, breathless. The policeman, at the corner gazed in astonishment after the strange white-looking woman, who did hot pans* until she reached the red pillar-box, and therein dropped a letter- Alma re-entered the house carefully olosiag the door after her. She felt tired, but wanted to think. The ticking of a small clock on the mantel disturbed her; she rose, and —but without the least feeling of angerstopped it with dead hands. She waited - their for hours; with the lamp still burning. But the night did not seem long! All too soon the cocks began to crow—those mysterious London birds which are always heard and never * seen—greeting the morning with shrill -impatience. Presently milk-carta rattled noisily along. A fresh day had begun.—P. Bbabshaw.