Not a Bit Jealous.

Auckland Star, Volume VI, Issue 1671, 26 June 1875, Page 5 (Supplement)

Not a Bit Jealous.

Handsome Syd Allaire threw down M 3 morning paper with a gesture of disgust. •Bah II am ashamed of my sex. It is astonishing to me that men can show so little senep,.' TSis pretty little wife, bitting opposite, beftind the handsome breakfast service, opened her bright blue eyes in sudden surprise. ' Why, what's the matter, dear ? What hare you read in the paper to vex you ?' •Why, Ethel, you must remember Folie Simmons —what a charming wife he liad. They were married only last season. Well, it seems he has grown terribly jealous of her fancies she's in lore with her drawing-master, and ha 3 left her, and she has gone home to her father's, while he has gone to a hotel to board.' ' Well, nil that is certaiuly very sad ; but, dear, you must not judge hastily. One can never entirely depend on newspaper accounts, especially in family^ quarrels. Remember, there are always two sides to a question ; wait till you hear them both before you judge.' 'Oh, I don't need to wait. I am well enough satisfied in my own mind now. I have do patience with a man who is jealous —it is a weakness no true man will ever allow himself to feel, much leas manifest. Can you imagine such a thing as my being jealous of you, Ethel ?' 11 cannot imagine my giving you any reason to be, Syd, dear.' * Eeason! Why, Babie, you could't make me jealous, whatever you did.' 'Couldn't I? I shouldti'b like to try, for fear of the result.' 1 Well, I give you leave to try as scon as you please. When I married you, you became a part of myself, and I should as soon think of being jealous of myself as of you.' 1 But, Syd, I do think there is an incipient ' germ of jealousy in every man's nature that 3 needs very little coaxing to Bprout and grow ' luxuriantly ; a single breath will blow the spark into a flame.' ' Not if a man be truly generous and noble ; f but kiss me, Babie, I must hurry down to town 1 —1 am late now. Take good care of yourself. • I shall be home at four.' The above conversation took place in the ' ooay little breakfast-room of the prettiest ' little cottage in Ivy terrace ; and Syd Allaire and Ms charming wife were surely us happy a f couple as one could find. Although they had f, been married more than a year, a visitor to ' their home-nest would scarcely imagine the ( honeymoon to be over, so thoughful and at- k tentive still was he—go loving and devoted * still was she. It had been eminently a love- E match, at which muny of their friends had 5 wondered, many more had sneered —for the husband, while remarkably handsome and a ' finely educated man, aad in every respect a ' noble fellow, was only a bank clerk on a ' moderate salary, while Ethel Lynde, the belle ' and beauty of the season, was the happy pos- ' sessor of a hundred thousand in her own right. But, as she very truly said, so long as she loved ' Syd better than anybody else, she couldn't for 3 the life of her understand what difference it made which one of them had the money. So she married him in spite of them all '. and thus far had no reason to repent her ; choice. She was indeed a pretty picture as, after her husband's departnre, she went leisurely from room to room of her charm ing house, striking a few chords on th piano as she passed; taking up and leading : a few lines in the uncut magazine that lay on the table ; feeding and petting her birds^ and watering some pots of exquisite flower that stood in the window of her favourite sitting room. Her low brow, "light hair—which waved naturally and was carelessly tied -with a blue ribbon to match the colour of her eyes —her rosy mouth and petite figure gave her an almost infantile appearance ; and yet, if one would stop to study the face, hewonld find a very earneßt expression in the soft ' eyes, and that the roßy lips were very ' firmly set together, indicative of resolution i and .perseverance. Etbel Allaire was no baby, though the gentlest and sweetest of little women.

On the morning in question, as she paese from room to room, one might have notice an unusual expression on her face, wbi ever and anon smiles would dimple her cheeks and wreath, her rosy lips. Once, ■while her maid was braiding her beautiful hair, Bhe fairly laughed aloud, and, clapping her hands together, exclaimed, fOh it would be a good joke. I have a mind to do it.' •What did you Baj, madam? said her maid, gazing at her in-astonishment. ' Nothing, Annette,' answered her mistreßß; 'I believe I was thinking aloud. I am going out, and shall not be home to lunch but will be in time for dinner. If Mr. Allaire comes in, tell him I am spending the morning with Mrs. Bascom.' ' Evidently she had some very amusing thoughts in her mind as she went out to visit her fiiend. When at last she was seated in Mollie Bascom's cozy morning room, judging from the peals of laughter which at intervals interrupted their conversation with 'You see,' and ' Ton know, and 'Won't it be fun?' many times repeated, one mighb have thought a new opera bouffe was under discussion, or at least a fresh comedy for private theatricals. Quite a« mysterious were the parting worda as Mrs. Allaire rose to go, saying, 'Syd will be home waiting for dinner. I can depend upon ; ypu, then ?' . y<.A Is mori,' replied her friend ; /shall we begin to-merrow ?' ' Yes; and remember not a word to Tom. He * ould be sure to tell Sydney.' ' I'll remember. Good-bye '—and the two friends parted in high glee. When Ethel came down to dinner that night, ready dressed for the opera, her husband thought she had never looked more beautiful. The diamond solitaires pendant from her delicate ears did not sparkle more brightly than- her laughing eyes; and the beautiful tint of her dress, with its cloudy trimmings of lace, was fairly rivalled by the exquisite tints of her complexion. She was in the beet of spirits, and laughed and chatted with all the gay abandon, of a child. 'I am co glad it is Trovatore to-night; it is my favourite opera. Mollie and Tom will meet us there.' «Does Wachtel sing?' said her husband. • Yes ; won't it be a treat ?' and Madame de Murka. She is just splendid. Do you know, Syd, I have half a mind to take singing lessons again ? I have so much time, and you always, thought my voice was good.' 'Yonr voice to me, baby, is sweeter than any other I ever heard, and I think your idea of taking lessons again is a good one. It will give you something to do to keep you from getting lonely while I am away.' 'That is uetit. Ido get so tired, having nothing to do but count the hours until 4 o'clock. But, about a teacher ?' • 'Well, as to that, I would rather you should have a teacher come to tho house, Ethel, I don't .like the idea of your going out for your lessons.' 'Of course not—l wouldn't think of it. And I believe Molly knows a good teacher - some one who taught her sister. I'll ask her to-night.' When the two ladiea met in the opera box a Tery significant glance passed between them. An inquiry flashed from Mrs. Baßcom'a blaok

ffil'^r™ 11 bj a quiefc reßP°nee from SlhS,% T s; which Beemed P erfe°tiy satisfactory on both sides. In answer to her ■ inquiries about a teacher: 'Yes; Mrs. Baaconx knew an excellent teaeher-Si-nor 3 Paoelh. She would send him to Ethefto--3 B. A"d th<3 BUbJeCt ™™? **** ! andhVM cXi fc r""' 118 Came Sign6r Pacelli > I and Ethel, having made satisfactory arrangements, commenced her lessons at f once. When her husband came home to •dinner, she was loud in her praises of her 1 new .teacher. 'He is so gentlemanly, Syd, Q.GS . » . 'I should hope so, certainly, Ethel.' Yes : but I mean so stylish, so genteel and really very good looking; and his broken English so charming. He speaks brench with me, though—l know so little Italian. 'Well, dear, so you are satisfied, I am. I suppose you will be prepared to be a Pnma Donna before long.' Mrs. Allaire was intensely interested in her singing lessons. She practised scales and solfeggios from morning till night, and talked about Signor Parcelli and his perfections until her .husband was tired of hearing of them. " 'Really, Baby,' said he, 'this Signor must be a paragon. Now, ordinarily, I can't say I fancy these singing teachers.' ' Oh.' but Syd, I am sure you would like Pacelli—and you know I am improving so rapidly. You must come home some time when I take my lessons and meet him. He would like to get acquainted with you.' ' Excuse me, please. I don't think I care to. Go on with your ah's and sea's, but don't ask me to cultivate any singing masters.' Meeting his friend Tom Bascorn, one day, he said to him : ' By the way, Tom, do yoa know this Pacelli thut Ethel", and Mollie go raving about? Is he anything |ao very wonderful ?' ' Pacelli ?' answered Tom, musingly. ' Oh, Mollie did tell me your wife was taking singing lessons. He is a.good teacher, I believe ; n, quiet;, ge-it e-naniy sort of fellow ; sings well they tell ma.' ' Well, Ethel considers him a paragon, and really she is improving. Come 'round and hear her sing.' Ethel was improving, certainly. She sang selections from the operas in quite mi artistic manner, and pathetic little ball.ids in a style that almost brought tear's to one's eyjs. One day, having a severe headache, Sydney left the bank early, and going home found his wife w:is taking her singing lesson. Nob caring to interrupt her, he threw himself on a -ofa in the back parlour and listened as the lesson progressed. They were singing a duet, "and the voices rang out clear and sweet, first answering each other and then blending in complete and exquisite harmony, Tell me thou lovest me.' ' That's Pacelli.' thought he ; ' what silly sentimental stuff they sing !' ' I love thee,' responded Ethel, with the most gone-forever expression ; and again, ' Tell me thou lovest me,' ' I love thee ;' and then together, 'Oh yes, thou lovest me.' Then a peal of laughter, and the door closed, and Ethel came running in, and laid her little soft hands on his aching brow. ' Oh, Syd, are you ill ? I heard you come in ; but we were just in the midst of a duet, and I couldn't Btop. Did you hear it ? Was it not pretty ?' ' Yes, it sounded very well; but what silly nonsense it was. I should think you would dislike singing it' ' Why, you know, those translations from the Italian always are. lam going to learn ;to sing them in the original, and then very few will know what it means.' 'Well, I don't see that will better it much.' 'lam so sorry you are not well, dear. We were going to the opera to-night, you know, and I invited Pacelli to meet us there and come in our box. Don't you think you can go ?' ' No, dear. I am sorry to disappoint you, but my head aohes too badly.' ' Couldn't I go, then ? You know, Signor Pacelli can take me down to the carriage when ib is over.' Her husband looked up in surprise. It was the first time she had ever expressed a desire to go out without him ; indeed, she had always said she could not in the least enjoy the most charming entertainment unless he were with her ; but he only said, ' Certainly, you can go if you wish. There is not the ieaßt impropriety.' She hesitated a moment, but finally went to dress and order the carriage for the evening. All the long tedious hours, as he lay alone, he wondered what change had come over Ethel that she should be willing to leave him, and, in spite of himself, the thought would arise that there might be some attraction in fche fact that Signor Pacelli was to be there. He dismissed it as unworthy, and indeed when she came home early, saying it was stupid and she was tired and worried about him, hs forgot it altogether. But he scarcely liked her going out as mucn as ,she did now, without him, to morning concerts at which Pacelli was to sing—to orchestral recitals at which he was to play. Was he jealous ? Oh, no! Only, as he told her, people would talk, and were he in her place he would be very careful. ' Let them talk, then,' she indignantly replied ; ' What do I care for their idle gossip ? I will treat it with the contempt it deserves.' So he said no more, but was far from being satisfied with the result. One day, coming home as usual, and not finding his wife down stairs he ran up to her dressing room, looking for her. She was not there, but lying on her dressing table he found a little note, which he snatched up eagerly and commenced reading. It ran thua : Madame. —Que vous avez etc tres charmante cc matin. I send you a ticket. I shall have the happiness of seeing you at two. I Yours devotedly, PACELLI.

He torned very pale as he read, and was just thinking wha,t to say to Ethel, when he heard her come in and come running up stairs. She started when she saw the note in his hand, but only said, 'Am I late? The rehearsal was so long.' «What is this, Ethel ?' replied her hash tfn sternly. •That? why, only poor Pacelli's note- I thought I had destroyed it. He sent me a ticket for the rehearsal.' ' And are you in the habit of receiving such notes as this from your singing teacher ? 'Now, Syd, don't be foolish. He doesn't mean anything—foreigners are so queer, you

know.' ' Yeg; if you call this queer, I think, they are. But, Beriously, Ethel, thsre must be an end put to this. You must stop your lessons. 'Now, Syd, you are certainly unreasonable. How ridiculous you would make me appear ! and I am improving so rapidly, too!' 'Yes, I should judge so—improving iv other things besides music.' 'Sydney, you shall not spea so fc o me T _J " , 'Remember, Ethel, I insist on your giving up your lessons. If you do not choose to inform Signor raoellt to that effect, I shall do

so.' Indeed, you will do no such thing. He would only think you were jealous—not an enviable reputation, surely, especially when it iB not merited.' ' Very well; you know the alternative.'

1 ; There had never been the slightest coolness' ■ I between them before, and Sydpey found himself very miserable. Ethel, however, seemed J much as usual, although very little was said 1 by either during dinner, and the evening, for j once, was almost dull. He read- the last magazine,.and she lounged and sang. It was no better at breakfast—the cloud was lowering and rested on both their faces. Just as he was going away Ethel said very firmly and quietly : 'This is Pacelli's morning. I shall tell him he need not oome again. lam going to send for Tom and Mollie to come to dinner —it se«ms we are no longer good company for each other.' He made her no answer, but went away with a heavy heart. It seemed to him that was the longest, dreariest day ho had ever known. Oh, how he longed for a sight of his wife's face, bright with happy love as it used to be. And to think she should treat ' him so, and for^whom ? A singing teacher! He grew angry as he thought of it, and walked more quickly toward homo. There was a hat standing upon the rack, and opening the parlour door he saw his wife sitting upon the sofa with a strange gentleman— oue hand clasped in his, her head leaning confidingly upon his shoulder. He took ong s t e p toward them and thundered, 'Ethel!' ' Oh, Syd, is that you ?' said she, rising with the most naive simplicity. ' Allow me ™ make you acquainted with Signor Pacolli 1 Signor, my husband.' . '-Highly delighted,' said the gentleman, rising and extending his hand. ' Have long desired an introduction.' Then, while Sydney stood looking from one to the other as if spell-bound, le continued. ' You don't Rpetn to wart to know mo ; perhaps you would like my other name better ?' and rapidly throwing off wifr, eye-glass and false mustache, 1 Mollie Bascom, at your service, and so glad to become ftquainted with a gentleman who never gots jealous.' ' Such a weakness, you knnw.' moaned Ethnl, almost r»onvnlsG(l with laughter. 'Sold, by Jove!' shouted Tot Ba°oom. silking in fmm the back parlour. 'Dnn't blame me, cldfpllow. I did n't know anything about, it until to-dny,' pon honor.' " You know you fold me you would Rive mo loave to try,' paid Ethel ' How did you er)joy your evening dear, when I went to the opera ?' ' Never went near the opera, roared Tom. 'Played casino in my library all the evening.' ' And then,' put in Mollie, ' all the morning concerts n.nrl rehearsals. Never was such a thing. There we si\t crocheting in my si'Kinff-room, tha whole tim" I.' * A.nrJ the note, do.ar.' MgVd Ethel. ' I wrote it,' said Mollie. ' And the duet, we sung. Come, confess, now —you were fairly outwitted.' Sydney bad been standing, turning pale and red by turns; till, as the whole plot burst upon him, he sprung towards Ethel, caught her in his arms and kissed her, exclaiming, I see it all now. lam a fool! And you have taught me a good lesson. I'll profit by it ; see if I don't, You, Signora Pacelli Baßcoro, go up stairs, assume your proper attire, and join us at the dinner table. We will" drink in Veuve Cliquot to the perfect success of your plot, and the utter discomfiture of the mnn who was ' Not a bitjealoi^.