A Christmas Troth

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 5, Issue 237, 22 December 1916, Page 3 (Supplement)

A Christmas Troth

| THE MAN WHO MARRIED I THE OTHER GIRL

% By MARTIN J. MeHUGH in the Glasgow Weekly Scotsman.

It was Christmas 1 Eve. Yet though the hour was late, through the stately West End thoroughfare passed a ceaseless stream of motors and taxis, their metalwork glittering under the arc lamps like burnished gold or silver, and their red or green side-lighte producing the effect of the rapidly-shitt-ing colours in a kaleidoscope. Jack Butler, standing among a group of idlers outside the portico of a palatial hotel, gazed at tike scene with absorbed interest, lie was so distracted by its ever-varying details that, although lie had come for some other purpose than to watch the general traffic, a tax had pulled up opposite that brilliantly-lighted portico and discharged its occupants before he realised that they were they for whom .ie had been waiting. An elderly lady ana two younger ones, in evening cloaks and with light, fleecy wraps covering their heads, were advancing tow aids the portico as he recognised them. Then he started- and stood a moment still, struck, perhaps, with the great beauty of one of the younger women, who, tall and with perfect features and proud dark eyes, swept past as disdainfully as a goddess. And when the watcher, aroused from his enchantment, stepped forward to salute them, the ladies had already disappeared into the hotel. . . Jack had no time to nurse his sens* of disappointment, for .a gentleman belonging to the party, who had stopped a moment to give some instructions to the taxi-driver, now turned 1 to follow th "Hello*' uncle!" said Jack, barring the way. "Here I am, bapk again. " So I see, "returned Mr. Butler, unemotionally, as he stopped and stared at his nephew with a non-committa expression on his thinj legal face. " Arrived home oniv the other any,' went on Jack. "'Caned' at your plate several times, but hadn t toe Hick to find the ladies at home." -So 1 heard," returned his uncle, with a note of irony in his dry voice. "And you therefore decided to waylay me here, to secure a dennite appointment!"' *'l heard you were coming here to celebrate Christmas, and I came too, hoping " said Jack eagerly, but breaking off with a touch of diffidence. " It is tlie time for the old, old story, and 1 have a right to tell it to Beatrice now. Seven years ago, when I went away to seek my fortune, it was stipulated " "This is hardly the place for a private interview, but perhaps we had better get it over at once, as it need not be a long one," said Mr. Butler, and he drew the young man somewhat out of the crowd before he went on. "It was stipulated that that fortune should be found. Have you in those seven years acquired an income sufficient to gain my approval, and to maintain my daughter in her accustomed position?" " I just about made my keep —and a few hundred dollars over," answered Jack, smiling. "That's enough," said Mr. Butler. "Good-night." " Wait a minute," said Jack, putting out a (Detaining hand. " That has nothing to do with the matter. Very special prospects have opened out to me hens in London, and they warrant me >n. asking Beatrice "I am afraid they would not interest her," returned Sir. Butler. "And you can tell them to me some other time, if the opportunity offers." All*. Butler, with a nod, thereupon went into the hotel, leaving Jack halfamused half-annoyed at the surnary intervieiw. "If he had only waited to hear my news, he would have taken me in on his arm," he said to himself. "But I've bungled things, and must manage better next time." He lit a cigarette, and for some minutes sood on the pavement, thinking hard. Seven years had he been faithful to Beatrice, looking forward eagerly to a meeting which he had olten feared might never take place; and now she had passed him, unseeing. But her proud eyes woudl soften for him when he went to her with the great and unexpected gift he had for her after these long years of waiting. His thoughts of her grew more glowing as he recalled that fleeting vision of her beauty, until he felt that he must met her that evening and speak to her again. No, he would not go back to his lonely lodgings that night without meeting her —for he had a right to that. , He entered the hotel. The vestibule was crowded, and when at length he got the ear of the clerk, it was to learn that every table for the Christmas supper had been engaged. Hut when, by insistence, Jack had got the maanger called, and had shown him his card and whispered a few words to him, that potentate said that, although there was no vacant place, a small table could be placed for him near Mr. Butler's party. Jack left his rather shabby overcoat with an attendant, and then, displayed as a good-looking young man in wellcut evening clothes, strolled along a passage with a feeling of satisfaction at the magical effect on an hotel manager of a whispered change of name. The passage was at the moment deserted and dimly lighted, for great festoons of holly shrouded the electroliers. Jack paused at a door marked "Smoking <Lounge," and then want on to the brilliantly illuminated supper - room door, from behind which came the hum of voices and the ripple of laughter, mingled with the strains of merry music. He had just approached the door when it sudenly opened, and an elderly waiter appeared, carrying a heavilyladen tray. A flood of light shone on Jack's fa'e. "You're Smith, aren't you?" queried the waiter quickly. "Yes," answered Jack, absent-mind-edly. "Then take these back at once —• tabic twenty-seven won't have them,'' said the waiter, fussily. "They snv now they ordered Beignets d'hmtivs, and must have them Remember—-twenty-seven." And with that lie put the tray into the young man's hands. Jack, immersed in musings, dazzled by tli,' sudden light, was so taken by surprise that ho received tlio tray, and the waiter disappeared again behind the swinging door. Then .Tack stood a moment in astonished confusion, and as he did so the smoking-room door opened and Mr. Butler entered the passage, and came towards him. .Tack turned away, still holding the tray: but his uncle, had seen him. "Very exalted special prospects!" sndi Mr. Butler, with a sardonic laugh as he turned into the supper-room, the floor of which a waiter held open for him.

"Take these infernal things!" muttered Jack to tfie waiter, angrily.

"One of you fellows mistook me jor a waiter, and shoved them on to me." "Sorry, sir, for such a mistake," said the waiter, in an astonished voice, as with an imperturbable face he took the tray. " There are so many extra hands here to-night, sir, that " Jack did not wait to listen, but made straight for the smoking-room, and threw himself into an armchair there. " I'm dished as a suitor for the moment," he said to himself, with a. laugh of vexation. But the mild joke, combined with the soothing effect of a good cigar, soon allayed his annoyance. " It's up to me to play my cards carefully now; but there's always the trump to win in the end," he mused, consolingly. And then he turned over in his mind various stratagems which would bring the night to the happy close he desired. But he had not settled on a definite plan of action when a glance at ni* watch told him that his time for thinking was over, and that he must leave the issue to that fate which is so proverbially kind to lovers. Indeed, everybody else had left the smoking-room when he at last rose from his armchair.

The big supper-room was thronged with merrymakers, who sat at tables distributed round a gigantic Christmas tree. Jack, with an unaccustomed sensation at his heart, sought his place, and with difficulty found it. He had been given a small table near the wall, jalid, perhaps, by mistake, for two. Only a few yards away sat Mr. and Mrs. Butler, their daughter Beatrice, and another girl, somewhat younger. Jack, seating himself was disappointed to find that a spreading palm intervened between himself and the Butlers' table; and, move how he would, it still somewhat screened them from him. His first impulse was to have thte plant removed, but when he found he could see the only face he was interested in, it struck him that there might be an advantage in being screened himself just then, in those first moments of his joyful agitation.

A waiter came to him, and he mechanically ordered for his supper anything that was suggested. And when the first course came he dallied with it. all his attention and thoughts on the face of Beatrice, who, amidst that light and laughter and music, seemed a princess set in a dream. And as he looked at liar he felt a certain Joy mingled with pride in the knowledge that, beautiful as she had been in the past, she had in those years of their separation developed a perfection of loveliness. And, indeed, she looked the most beautiful woman there, her black hair framing the delicately-chiseil-xl features, and her great brown eyes eloquently expressing her every emotion. But just then those eyes swept the scene with somewhat haughty indifference, never once meeting those that watched her with such infatuation. Jack was about to find some excuse to join the party, when all at once a gentleman, who had just entered, cam© towards their table. He was middle aged and of commonplace appearance, bu this advent seemed to be specially welcome. Mr. Butler greeted him warmly, Mrs. Butler was very gracious, and Beatrice's rather coolurless face took 011 a tinge of rose that added to her beauty, while her eyes glowed perceptibly. There was a movement at the table to make room for the newcomer : but space was limited, and an extra chair seemingly unprocurable. Beatrice said something to the young girl who made the fourth member of the party, and Mrs. Butler pointed vaguely around her. The girl left her chair, and. with an embarrassed air and heightened collour, looked about her in search of a seat. She passed round to Jack's table and seeing the vacant chair, pushed into it, paused a moment, and then made to move on. Jack rose. "I am a near relative of Mr. Butler's, so I hope you will accept a seat at my table," he said. The girl looked at him shyly, and then gave a rather helpless look around her. " Do not hesitate to accept this seat, for I a.m really a Butler," went on Jack. And then lie added, whimsically, "Though only a few minutes ago J was a waiter." The girl sat doiwn with a comically bewildered face, and then she broke into a low laugh. Mr. Butler, at the sound, looked and recognised Jack, and as he did so his face asumed a horrified expression, and it seemed to tho young man that his uncle was about to have him turned out. That thought, as much as the girl's surprise, mado him echo her laugh. "I, too. belong to the family," she said; " but I'm only a poor relation." "Just what 1 have been myself," returned Jack, cheerfully, "so we ought to be friends." The girl smiled back at him with frank grey eyes that gave him a. momentary impression that he had met her before. He ordered a choice supper de.-pite her protests, and while they exchanged a few generalities he looked at her closely, and then became convinced that she was a stranger. Fie had hardly glanced at her when she had sat beside Beatrice; but now, when no longer contrasted with the hitter's imperious beauty, this stranger was a pretty young girl with reddish-golden hair, and an eager face iillo dwith happiness. "What did you mean by saying iust now that you were a waiter as well as a Butler?'' she asked, smilingly, when her reserve had somewhat worn oft'. Jack gaily related the incident of the waiter's mistake. "It was my own Omit, for I answered to the name of Smith," lie then said. "But, you see, it was a name T had adopted in the I'nit. (1 States, where I turned my hand to many things for a living bote] waiting among them.'' "And now you have conic home," snid the girl, a touch of seriousness succeeding her laughter. "How liic.t it must be to have a hnme to < nme to!" "It must bp," assented .Tack. ''But it is a long time since I had a home, and f have none now." " Well, neither have T. strictly speaking, though, of course, Beatrice's home has been mine for years," said the girl, looking straight ,nt him with her frank eyes. "But isn't London a refuge tor a! It-he homeless ones? J was so glad when Mr. Butler came to settle hare." "'Were von not sorry to leave C'or-n-ystown?'' asked Jack. " C,u ncv-.town 1 Oh, that funny little Trish town ! How far away and unr.il it seems when ym think of it fere," smilingly said the girl, vet with a litt'e sigh. "Of course, T was sorry to

leave it, since it had meant home for so long; but London would console anyone. Is it not the nicest place in the world and the place one meets all ones 'friends some time or other-'"

"I must get to love it, for I mean to adopt it as my homo, and with it the name of Horton," said Jack. "Horton!" exclaimed the girl, with amused astonishment. "How many surnames have you got?" "Only one more," .answered Jack. ' : and 1 won't tell you that just yet." He looked as he spoke over at Beatrice, who was chatting very animatedly with the strange gentleman. '"'The Butlers like the change to London, no doubt?" "Indeed they do," replied the girl. Since Lord Kilcorney died and his estate was sold, and an agent no longer required, there was no need for Mr Butler to remain in Corneystown. As, of course, you know, he had in earlier life been oa'lled to the English bar, and he is getting quite a good practice now. So everything has turned out for the bast, for Beatrice could not always remain buried in that remote country place." "Of course not," said Jack, almost indignantly. "She should marry well and have a brilliant life." "I hope sha will," said the girl. And then she added simply, "I do hope that with all my heart, though when she marries 1 must go and seek my fortune in the big world, for I am staying with her as a companion." "Oh, she will not marry at once/ said Jack, quickly. "Beatrice will be married very soon, I think," said the girl, in a tone of one telling pleasant news. "Indeed, to to 1 ! you a secret, since you are one of the i'amilv, I may say I expect her to be

come engaged this very night." "Engaged to-night!'' exclaimed Jack, startled. And then lie added more quietly, "Well, possibly she may." "I think -lie will," wont on the girl. "Do you know' that gentleman wit i her r ! "Xo," replied Jack, with a suddenly tense feeling. "Who is lie?" "He is a Mr. Horton —one of your names," said the girl. Mr. Butler believes lie will succeed to the T\ileom?y title, so of course he favours his suit.' - ' "Does Beatrice love him? Or would slib accept him only for that?" asked Jack, in a voice lie sought to keep steady. "Oh, .'lie really loves him for himself. as a man should he loved," answered tlx- girl, simply. "And I know she would not Jove him less if he nev?r succeeds to the title. Indeed, she ridicules hi> prospects of that." Jack was silent for some moments, and then he said, cr.!ni]y—"l thought she ha.J given her heart to a man who went away years ago to make his fortune, with the promise of getting her as a reward fci success —and constancy. Did you not hear that?" "No, Beatrice was never seriously in love before, if at all. I should know that, if anyone does," replied the girl, slowly. "She has always had admirers—even in Corneystown. 1 did not see many of them in the earlier days, for I—well. I did not know a,II the friends of the family. But somehow there comes to my mind the memory of a. very infatuated young fellow who plagued her. It was when T was little more than a child— —" She stopped short and stared at Jack with a suddenly startled expression. "Oh, I remember too," said Jack, with a short laugh. "He found you in the orchard swinging in the sunlight, your golden hair blowing in the wind. And he gave you a little pink note 13 Beatrice, whom he was then forbidden to see. So you are little Sheila Walsh, the fairy of the orchard!" " I am afraid I have said things to cause you pain," exclaimed the girl, with a face of alarm, and flushing painfully. "Forgive me; 1 did not recognise "There is nothing for me to forgiv. . You have not caused me pain.' -:e assured Jack. "But see, you are right," he added, quietly, with a glance towards Beatrice and her companion bending over her. holding her hand furtively, while she listened to his whispered words with that expression on her face that only love can bring. "Oh," excliamed Sheila, as she looked back at Jack with a world of sympathy in her expressive eyes, "I hope this will not be an unhappy Christmas for you!" "No, I think it will not," returned Jack, slowly. "Here comes Father Christmas!" cried the girl, as if to distract him. And she looked with an assumed interest, though tears were in her eyes, at the old-time masquerader who at that moment entered the supper-room to distribute gifts from the Christmas-tree. The orchestra, perched on a balcony. struck up a Christinas carol, and then Father Christmas began in deliver n rhymed oration. "It is all over now—whatever little pain there was." whimpered Jack, reassuringly, to Sheila, as he drew closer to her. "1 am glad." whispered back the girl. "Perhaps the wound is not as dee]) as you think, and I know you are brave and strong." "I'll iell you a story, and then you will understand," said Jack. "Yon have recalled those old days to 111.'. >:> they were yoer old days, too. Did yo 1 c-ver meet my mother then v ' ''No, f only heard of her," answered Sheila. "Perhaps you did not hear the bo-t about her," said Jack, slightly bitterly. ''When she went to live fur a ten' roars in Corneystown, it was ;•£ t;;e end of a disastrous marriage to a man who (ailed himself Smith. But she resumed her maiden name, and brother—my uncle there— naturallv did not like that. But there was some mystery about my father, and whatever my mother knew of him she nev?r divulged to my uncle. Indeed. '*.(• hardly ever visited at his house." " I I'-emeui'iKM' hearing gossip, ot course," said Sheila. "The only person she knew any wav well there was old Lord Kilcorney. But T knew everybody, and was at my uncle's constantly. Then T fell in lore with Beatrice, and was so persistent ' that in the end her parents eonsente;!

to listen to me if I went away to make my fortune and succeeded. I suppose that was their cleverest way of getting rid of ma."

"And then you went to America:'' prompted Sheila. "1 went first with my mother, wtio was dying, to Devon, and she died there/ Then 1 went to the United States; but not altogether to seek my fortune. I went to look for a certain man who called himself Smith, and I found him. Before he died he gave me the proofs that my mother had not lived to obtain."

"The proofs?' repeated Sheila, with subdued interest.

•' Well, that was nearly at the end '.f my seven years in America," went or. Jack. "I did not make my fortune; perhaps it was not fated that I should make my fortune for Beatrice. Perhaps her only place in my life was to keep love fresh in my heart for some other princess. And—well, that's ::11 there is to say."

•'ls it?" asked Sheila, surprised and puzzled. "Do you believe in love at first sight'-'" asked Jack abruptly. -I—l clon't know," faltered Sheila with growing astouishment. Then, looking into bis face, her eyes fell.

"The 'bought that gave me pain when I saw that man pressing Beatrice's hand just now was that I was alone in the world," said Jack, sig nificantly "But it you, like me, believe in love at first sight, neither of us need be alone in the world. Do vou, Sheila:'" "I don t know what to say to you, 1 murmured the girl, with trembling lips "This is too extraordinary!"

"Nothing is too extraordinary for an Irish couple at Christmas," sail Jack, with a happy laugh. The general lights of the room suddenly went out. The Christmas-tree burst info an electric blaze as Father Christmas went to it and began loading his tray with the gifts on it. Jae's pressed Sheila's hand tenderly. "1 don't know what to say," she repeated, whisperingly, roused from her trance of astonishment. " 1 don't even know what to call you. Jack—Jack what?"

"Just call me Jack—for I won't he using the name of Horton," he said, as lie rose, and with his hand on her arm, led her to his uncle's table. "That's only the family name. I suppose I'll be called Kilcorney by most people." " Kilcorney !" almost gasped Sheila.

"Yes, for my unfortunate father was Lord Kiicorneys' only son, and I am the man that's to get the title now," said Jack. In his excitement Jack had raised hh voice, and Mr. Butler, hearing his word.'-, had started incredulously. "Thfc cat is out of the bag now,'' said 1 Jack, with a laugh. Tin Lord Kilcorney, and Sheila is going to be her Ladyship. Congratulate us both " Mr. Butler stood amazed and silent The others at the te.'bl& murmured something inarticulate "Oh, someone must congratulate us!" exclaimed Jack, exuberantly, and. looking round, he found Father Christmas at his elbow. "You congratulate us. old man!"

" Accept mv congratulations and my blossing as well," said Father Christmas, in a hearty voice that was a great deal less venerable than his appearance. "And this too." And thereupon he pressed the best idft on his trav into Sheila's hand. (The End.)

The Baron (who lias been rebuffed) —■' Veil, I will you Mees Holly-bush. because you are very bretty to look upon, but von empraee you he sc-ratefi himself!" Heire<i<—" And I will tall you 'Baron .Mistletoe'!" T! ■ Banm- 'Pen I can dake dot a- a :;oinplinic nt r" Heiress—"Not quite. The mistletoe is a foreign parasite plant. whirh iiomMu's vastly when engrafted on British <nk. Save/.-vous, Baronr"

THE FIRST CHRISTMAS. A restful quiet I.roods o'er all the ] nn.l; Lohind yon dim-lined mountain sleepn the moon; The silver stars of heaven venture soon To fleck heaven's midnight blue, a glooming band Of God's created wonders, like the sand For number; when a glory, ]ike l&o no >n Intensified, sweeps o'er the star-lit zoip: And. at the waving of an unseen wand, The angels and archangels sing His' worth In strains triumphant, as to God they cry, And flash the tidings of His glorious birth Tn weird, immortal music through the sky : "Good will'to all mankind, with peace on earth, An adoration to the Lord most'high!" Mrs. [raits: "Well. Jenkins, a happ\ New Year to you. and I hope you' l ! turn ovr a. new leaf." The Village Ne'er-Do-Weel: "Thank you, mum; same to .you."