WHAT A GIRL CAN DO.

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 4, Issue 122, 17 December 1915, Page 1 (Supplement)

WHAT A GIRL CAN DO.

Monica Leyton did not know exactly how she became betrothed to the great novelist, Out it seemed to her too wonderful to be .true. She had never had a boy sweetheart, like every other pretty girl; she had never imagined any man whom she could regard with admiration and almost awe would condescend to look at ner; and now, lo and behold! she wa6 about to marry a genius and a saint! At least, his wonderful book, that 6he had been privileged, to type, told her that he must be both these thingß. Such heroic characters, such noble sentiments and ideals 1 Hie great question m her mind was, Would »ue satisiy him? blie had tried to teil him her ueiiciencies; the sort or upbringing she had had with a jealous stepmother; how limited her social lite was; but he had swept it all away with a generous and silencing hand, telling ner that her beauty maue up tor everything. The word took ner breath away. .No one before had ever called her ueautiful; her glass told her that perhaps she was better looking than the otuer girls at the office, and her_ stepmother had grudgingly admitted that there was " nothing amiss" with her ligure; but the wife ot Hillary Stewart should be as exquisite asi the heroines in his books! And what would his mother and brother say to the engagement? She had not met Jack yet, and only seen his mother twice, when the gentlefaced little lady, in widow's cap and cuffs, had come, almost on tip-toe, into his study, to make some quiet remark and retire again. Well, this last question had to Do faced actually now, for she way to spend her fortnight's holiday with them. Hillary had wanted her to leave the office at once, but she had i.nMvered that her stepmother would not support her, and he must allow her to keep her situation until their marriage. She had always given her employers satisfaction, and when the popular aatnor had demanded a typist at his own house, she had been chosen to go, and that was how she became acquainted with him. Their wedding was not to take place till his book was published, as he did not wish, he told her, to be pursued by proof-6heets and the rest of it.

"By then, too," he said, "Jack will have got a commission in my father's old regiment, I hope. Though it seems too good a dream that he will be no further anxiety and expense. I doubt if even the discipline of the Army can 6iibdue his wild and extravagant nature.' 1

And Hillary bent his bushy dark brows, sighing heavily. Monica looked sympathetic. "What was lie doing when the war broke out?" 6he asked. " rto might nave been in an excellent position iu a big business concern," muary answereu, "it lie couiu only navo Kept Ills head—Out ail ins Hie, that is exactly what JacK could never uo. ihe scliool rows! 1 lie mischief in tne holidays! And, later, the debts, the scenes between us, the dimculty 01 niaKing him stieii to any poet —he has muuo Hie intolerable lor me!" Monica's sympathy increased. "How bad and ungratelul of him!" she said. "1 trust soldiering will cure him; and, anyhow," she added hopeful, ly, "it shows he has something m inm, to come forward like this, doesn't it?

Hillary's dark face lowered at her. "i saw to that," he said, omniously. "I'd enduro no slacker in my family. And, by heavens, child, if he doesn't stick to this —it he —it he —deserts — —" lie made a .tragic gesture —" 1 shall shoot him with my own hands!" Monica looked at mm in awed silence, and her opinion of Jack can be imagined. But she found that, although Mrs. Stewart's reverence tor her eldest son bordered on worship, it was of her youngest that she talKed most, when she and the girl were alone.

" All his scrapes came of high spirits more than anything else," she said one day; "and Hillary has always been so quiet and studious, he has never been tempted liko Jack to let his! sense of fun run away with him." "Havo you a portrait of Jack?" Momca, asked. Mrs. Stewart opened a large, oldfashioned jet locket that she slways wore, and showed tho girl & boy's laughing blue eyes and handsome features. 'Oh, how awfully good-looking!' Monica cried. "How old is lie, dear? Much younger than Hillary, evidently." "Ves, there are thirteen years between them —1 lost the others" —Mrs. Stewart sighed—"Jack ii twenty-four, you own age." Monica stroked tho litile lady s hand. " What a sad life yo; have h-.u, dear!"

"It has been sad, Monica. I lost three children, and Jack was only a baby when his father died. But I must 1)8 thankful there was never poverty. My husband was fairly rich. "Oh! I imagined Hillary had done it all for you —I mean this beautiful houso, and Jack's education nnd thingfs—" " Hillary couldn't have meant to give you such an impression " "Of course not —it was my stupidity ! But I thought officers' pensions—" "Wo haven't had to depend on that, thank Heaven!'' Mrs. Stewart interrupted. "My husband had private means. And the boys will inherit money : a very rich uncle, who has made .lack his heir, is dying noiw. But Hillary lias so many exponas, belonging to a good clum, and that sort of thing, that lie doesn't call hiuisclf well-oft yet." " I see."

As the days went on. Monica felt the atmosphere somewhat oppressive, and marvelled that Hillary could alisorh himself in his hooks, while the whole world was in s'ucli excitement. They might have been miles away from everything, in that old Kensington house, with its high walls and big garden, and as Mrs. Stewart seldom up proached the noisy streets, there was

Complete Short Story. (From "Tit Bits."}

no means oi seeing startling posters' or or buying the evening papers. Hillary was satisued with his morning 'Times.' which he kept to himself. And, at last, Monica tound herself looking forward to Jack's week-end leave to break the monotony. As luck would have it, she was alone in the drawing-room when he dashed in, lifting the chill gloom of the October afternoon like a sudden burst ot jolly sunshine. "1 thought 1 should find you all at tea!" he cried. "Where's the mater? But, 1 beg your pardon, you must be 'Monica* ?"

" Yes," she said, returning his bright smile and giving him her hand. He squeezed it hard, as he gazed down into her face.

"What a darling little sister you'll make!" he cried. "Hillary has always been a lucky chap! And he deserves it —never done a stupid thing all his life —whilst I—you'vel—you've heard all about me, haven't you?" She nodded, looking a little uncomfortable, and lie dropped her hand and marched to the window. "I daresay you've heard, too, he said, with a short laugh, "that I'm going to make a mess of this? Well, if the mud and beastliness on the Plain last much longer, I expect 1 shall chuck it."

"Oh!" she cried, going quickly up to his 6ide; " it's not right to talk like that! You look every inch a 6oldier—and you are, you know!" "Do I really?" he asked, flashing round. "Can't you see the white feather anywhere?" "No, I can't. It simply isn't therj!' , "It's nice to have inspired a bit of confidence, anyway," he answered, gratefully. "I wish I could be as suro of.myself. But why are you alone: ' "Hillary has gone to hie club, and your mother is lying down with a headache. Shall I go and tell her you me here ?"

"No, I will, thank you. . Ami I'll ring for the tea on the way." She heard him spring up the sUirs, shouting endearing things to his moth, er, and the went back to the fire, with a puzzled look on her face. Had Hillary been too hard on the boy?'' she wondered. They were so totally different, it was scarcely possible they could understand one another. The elder man was so serious, so self-contained, so undemonstrative. In that live minutes ,i;,ck bad seemed to give her more real affection than her fiance had shuna m all hie love-making! The next morning Hillary declared, at breakfast, that he must have complete quiet in his study all day, and Jack remarked, with a comical look, "Then I'd better make myself scarce! I'll take the Mater and Monica for a spree, if they'll come." And he took them to lunch in Piccadilly, to an amusing matinee; and to tea at a special haunt. Mrs. Stewart joined rather wistfully in all their fun, and watched them with a curious look in her eyes. Sunday he took them both to Westminster Abbey; and, kneeling beside him, Monica was aware of iiis simple, childlike faith; it seemed such a rest after'Hillary's strange, startling views on religion. Then, before he left, the following (lay Jack and she had a splendid time in Kensington Gardens, where recruits were drilling, and she felt that no man carried himself as well or looked half so handsome in khaki as her future brother-in-law.

Oil! it' only Hillary were a little more liko Jack, she began to think. She missed the boy go much that she was glad to return to work; and, in spite of the war, she was kept busy at tne office all the autumn and winter. The publication of Hillary's book was delayed, and there was no talk of the wedding-day yet; he was much too worried to make plans, and she was oily too thankful that it was postponed. More and more she discovered how wide apart their tastes were. And then—well, Jack began to absorb her thoughts. She had seen him again once or twice; she had had one or two nlfectionate letters from him; and now lie was to go to France almost immediately. He had done so well they were sending him in charge of a draft; and she was radiantly proud and thrilled because he had written: " It's all your doing, Monica! You believe in me, and that makes a chap keen to believe in himself. I've wanted just that sort ot encouragement all my life." She was to take his mother to Plymouth to say good-bye. The boy spent the evening at their hotel, and was full of merry talk and gay tenderness, trying to make the parting easier for them all. When lie left lie signed to Monica to follow him. They stood in the dark pas-sago outside the room, and he took her hands in silence for a moment, before he said:

■'Dear/it comforts me to know sue will have you if I don't come back. She leans on Hillary, of course, and he's splendid ;_Cut she wants a little petting, don't you know ? And, Monica you'll—you'll stick to Hillary, won't you ?" She started. The words cajne to her like a shock. She had not got so tnr as to think of brcikiug her engagement, but, in that moment, she would have given worlds to be free. "One other thing," he was sayu*,, rapidly. " I want to be fco awfully truthful Avith you, in these last minutes. You think me so much pluc'i.„T than I am; but there are moment:, Monica, when I—when I iunk the thought of tlioso trenches like the deuce!"' His face was very white; she heard his teeth chatter. "Pray for 1110, dear, won t you? It will be such a big help. And you won i despise mo too badly, will you?" ho whispered, anxiously. She put her hands oil his shoulders and looked full into hi* ashamed face, v ith shining eyes. " It i> bruvi' <if \u.ii lo own it, Jack ! sli« s«od. "It luu't be the common feeling, sure. But I know, when t!ie time come;;, yen will bo pluckier than an? of them-''

Then the darK passage seemed to close in upon them, and she felt herself sway towards Inm. He caught her, and held her, breathing hard. "Oh, Monica!" he whispered, hoarsely. "1 must be loyal to him! Don't you understand ? God help me." She looked up, and he read the paa in her sool; and then something els j something that responded to the tumult of love that was bursting iiis breast, and he crushed her to nis heart in one moment of irrestible transput—and was gone. # * * * His first letter told them he was to go straight to the trenches; he would see the sunrise there on Easter Dav, he said.

The next news of him came from the War Office. He had been dangerously wounded, on Good Friday, whilst gallantly assisting a wounded superioi' officer into cover.

Monica happened to be with his mother when Hillary brought the telegram in, and the girl flung herself into Airs. Stewart's arms, crying passionately : " 1 knew all along he'd be a hero! It isn't bad news, dearest! It's grand, grand 1" And in her frenzy she laughed aloud. Hillary Mid a heavy nand on her shoulder.

"Contral yourself, Monica; this i« most unseemly." She flashed round and confronted him with blazing eyes. "You have no heart 1" she cried. "And you've never believed in him or encouraged him to believe in himself. But I've seen all along that lie' 6 worth a thousand of you." She stopped. A groan from the poor mother, crouching in her chair, recalled her to herself, and she turned to comfort the little lady, leaving Hillary to think what he liked.

Then cam© the blessed news that Jack's life had been spared; but his eyesight was gone for ever. "It's lucky it's me and not old Hillary," his nurse wrote for him; " I can live without books, and get along, blind, better than he could; and Uncle John'sJ money will come in handy now; nobody need fret for me!" The nurse added a postscript to the dictated letter, that she hoped would soften the blow, she said. "He won't believe it, so he doesn't tell you, but he has been awarded the V.C. And never any man deserved it more. It was at the risk of almost certain death that he carried the poo£ captain, who was uu tally wounded, into cover. And he,has been the pluckiest and cheeriest patient we have had in the hospital."

"There!" Monica cried, with sparkling eyes, turning to Hillary. "What did I tell you?" "Thank you," lie answered stiffly. "I am quite capable of appreciating my brother's conduct. And perhaps this is the moment, if my mother will forgive me, to tell you, Monica, that your behaviour to me has been far from satisfactory since you have known Jack. I draw no conclusions, and this sad news, in any case, prevents my doing so. It changes everything. Jack will be a great care Jind there is no chance of his ever marrying now; but, as my wife and his sister, you will be able to help us— —"

"I—l cannot marry you!" she interrupted speaking Jot and fast. "No! Don't say it! I know what is in your mean thoughts, but you are wrong, lie Ikm been loyal to yon, he begged me to be the same, and I don't know if he will marry me, even now. But I shall ask him to! I shall ask him to let my eyes be hit?; I want to devote every moment of my life to him. And, oh, mother!" she finished, with a 6ob, "you will help me, won't you to convince him that I co i!d never have loved anyone as I low linn, and —and make him understand that I love him blind a thousand times best?"'