A SHORT STORY.

Rangitikei Advocate and Manawatu Argus, Volume XXXIII, Issue 9069, 8 February 1908, Page 2

A SHORT STORY.

- the ways of the widow. (By G. Malcolm Hiucks, In “M.A.P.) '“Love.’ said Mrs Hilary Bnrlash,. is the great selfishness that passes as unselfishness.” She put down her tea-cup with a slight rattle, and the Infant stroked his slight moustache and flushed uncomfortably. ... „ , ~ “ There are many kinds of love, he suggested. . “True, replied the widow, out all proceeding from the parental selfishness. When JJ Bnrlash married me he loved me, but he didn’t marry me to make me happy. That, probably, was included in the programme, but it -was not the chief thing. He wanted me because he thought I was essential to his happiness. » That’s - selffishness, isn’t it? Yet ninety-nine out of a hundred love matches are of this description. ” S “But there is unselfish love,” argued the Infant, who bore the *name of Viscount Hardslade. “In a long experience I met it,” said the pretty young widow of thirty, afid lor a moment her eyes fell. The Infant’s cheeks were crimson. He glanced nervously round the large drawing-room; they had the hig bay window to themselves. He pulled his chair nearer. “I wish you were not such a cvnic. ” *The widow elevated her eyebrows. “My dear Hardslade, I am not a cynic; a cynic is a fool; one who acts the cynic is counted clever. ’ ’ “I see,’’said the Infant slowly. “I’m not a hit clever, Mrs Bnrlash; everybody tells me I’m an awful ass. I expect you’ll think me one .when I have told you what lam ” , “Here comes Lady Murchison,” said the widow sharply. The young man’s voice had risen, and two or three people had turned their heads. “I want to have a little chdt witn her, just between two old women, you know 1 ” then she added with a smile as the Infant rose to his feet blushing furiously with a mute appeal in his eyes: ‘ ‘ Come and see me to-morrow afternoon.” The boy’s face lighted up joyously, and holding her hand for a few moments more than necessary he darted off to another part of the room, and soon afterwards left Lady Murchison’s house and betook himself Piccadillywards in a whirlwind of excitement and suspense. Lady Murchison, a corpulent lady with a kind face, and the homely manner of a farmer’s wife, seated herself besides the young widow. “Wasn’t that young Hardslade?” she asked “Y T es,” said Mrs Hilary Bnrlash quietly. Lady Murchison was sileut for a few moments, then she blurted out suddenly: • ,“Do you care for him. Phyllis?” Tbe widow fenced the question. “He’s a nice hoy,” she said noncommittally. “He’s a young idiot,” burst out the elder woman warmly. Then she laid her hand on the widow’s snoulder. “Now don’t he offended at what lam gong to say, Phil; we are old friends, so I am going to speak my mind. Before you arrived from India a few weeks ago young Hardslade made violent love to Peggy Loriston, everyone thought the engagement would he announced in due course. Now poor Peggy, who is head over heels in love with him,as heart-broken. I saw her yesterday, and she looked a mere shadow of herself, poor child. Now, if you are only playing with this boy, abandon the game; you are making a worse idiot of him than Nature already made him, and you’re breaking the heart of one of the best little girls that ever breathed. ’ ’ It was about the longest speech that Lady Murchison had ever delivered, and at the .she sat gasping for breath, her shrewd, kindly eyes fixed on her friend’s face.

The widow’s careless, half-cynical Smile had vanished, and the blue eyes looked troubled. '“Silly girl!” she said at length, V with more pity than scorn. “No man fs worth it. ’ ’ “ You haven’t answered my question,” insisted her hostess, who, having screwed up her courage to make the attack was determined not to retreat. Mrs Burlash did not answer directly, the white, well-shaped fingers were beating a noiseless tatoo on the small tea-table. “Well, Mabel,” she said, “you have been frank with me, with your brutal frankness that is so refreshing, and I will be frank with you. I rather like 'young Hardslade ; he has a title and he has money, both of are an attraction to a young and, shall we say, pretty widow with the beggarly pittance of three hundred a year. Without egotism I think I may say he is desperately in love with me and is going to propose to-morrow afternoon. I haven’t decided my answer yet; of course, he is very young'and’’—after a slight pause— ‘ ‘ there are other considerations. I’m going to think about it, but I’ll promise you I won’t flirt and break people’s hearts. ”

The Infant was staring deadly at a letter regardless of the fact that his breakfast was growing cold. “What the deuce, does she mean?” lie gasped. ‘ ‘ Go and see Captain Chambers at the Albany. If, after hearing what he has to say about me you wish to resume our interrupted conversation you may come and see me here this afternoon. I thought you ought to know.” i 'The Infant threw the letter across the table and gulped down some halfcold coffee. ; “Know what” he asked irritably. “What’s she driving at? Anyone would think that she ” He broke off suddenly, his fane growing red and then white. “By Jove! I’ll go and see this Chambers Johnny at once—this is rotten!” w Ho rang the bell furiously, and, when his valet appeared, cursed him for not having brought his hoots with him. * » * In iris rooms in the Albany, Captain John Chambers, of the 101st Hussars, was regarding a little perfumed letter, and making very much the same comments as young Hardslade. “What in the name of all that’s mysterious docs she want me to blacken her character for?” lie gasped, reading the letter for the third time. “Dear Jack, —I expect you will receive a visit from Lord Hardsiade •very soon after reading this. I want you to act your little part in a little comedy ; hint delicately that you do .xiofc care to say all that you know

about me—he’lll drawj|his own conclusions. Don’t spare me, he is quite a nice boy and won’t talk, even if he does it will probably assist my social ambitions in these degenerate days. I hope you won’t mind. I haven’t seen you for ages. Why is it? Surely Gerald’s friend should be the friend of Gerald’s lonely widow 1 —Yours very sincerely, Millicent Hilary Burlash. ” Chambers pulled thoughtfully at his heavy black moustache. “I suppose she’s got some reason for asking me to bluff this young Hardslade, but hang me if I can think what it is. She’s as good a little woman as ever breathed ; her one vice is a delight in cheap cynicism that she doesn’t understand.” “Lord Hardslade to see you, Sir,” said his servant at the door, and in a few moments the Infant stepped nervously into the room. “I—l feel an awful ass, coming to see you like this,” he jerked out. “But a dear friend of mine, for some unaccountable reason, has asked me to do so.”

He stopped and looked awkwardly at the big man in the chair. “Yes,” said the gentleman encouragingly. “ Mrs Hilary Bnrlash, ” j erked out the Infant, his face crimson. The captain gravely inclined his head, but said nothing. He had resolved to make silence on his part his strong card in the interview. “She said,” pursued the Infant nervously, after along pause, that you would tell me something about her. ” “I would rather not,” said Chambers gravely. The boyish Viscount started. “I don't mean anything,” said the captain shortly. The whole : affair jarred him, “Mrs Buriash was out iu India when I was there, with her husband’s regiment. He wasn’t a bad chap, but he drank and drank, and the climate didn’t agree, so he died young. Mrs Buriash was extremely popular in Bombay,” Chambers paused, and then, with an uncomfortable feeling that he had not obeyed the widow’s request, he added. “More I do not care to say.” The Infant was silent for some time, the elder man was eyeing him keenly. “I see,” he said slowly, then, wiping the perspiration from his brow: “By Gad, I’ve had a narrow escape.” With great, difficulty Chambers refrained from kicking him, and allowed him to depart in peace. “893, Belgrave square” was the Infant’s command to the cabby he hailed at Piccadilly Circus. 893, Belgrave square was the residence of broken-hearted Peggy Loriston. As soon as, the boy had departed Captain Chambers went for a long stroll in the tPark, dropped into his club for half’an hour or so, and then hurried back to the Albany; he lunched quietly by himself, and then startled his servant by sending him out to buy a buttonhole. At half-past three arrayed in grey frock coat, with a deep red carnation fixed to the lapel, a glossy silk hat, and highly-polished patent boots, he shamefacedly presented himself at Mrs Hilary Buriash’s flat. Immediately the greeting was over and he had carefully placed his huge form- in a particularly tiny chair, he demanded an explanation of the strange letter, and related what had occurred that morning. The pretty yonng widow flushed. “It was In the nature of a test,” she said quietly, keeping her eyes lowered. “I wanted to find out if the Infant’s love,for me was as great as it appeared on‘the surface. If he had really loved me there would have been a scene with you, and he would have been here half an hour later, and —and I heard a poor little girl was broken-hearted because he had deserted her. ’ ’ There was a panse. “That,” said the Captain gravely, “proves the falsity of one of your pet cynicisms. ’ ’ “Which?” “That love is selfish.” “Oh, no,” replied Mrs Buriash, with a little rippling laugh, “it is because I wasn’t in love that I was unselfish —I sacrificed a title for a fortune because I wasn’t sufficiently in love. ’ ’ “Oh,” said the Captain. His bronzed face had taken a deeper hue ; he looked up at the ceiling, and then fixed his keen, grey eyes upon the widow’s face. “Supposing,” he said, rattier hoarsely, “supposing a man came to you and owned lie was selfish, he was lonely, and he wanted you to make his dreary life worth Jiving. Supposing he told you that he had tried to kill that love because he was rapidly becoming an old man, ■with a strong dislike to Society— Society as it is to-day—and would not ask a girl to tie herself ito :a crusty old bachelor? Would you laugh and dismiss him with a cynicism, Phyllis?” Chambers had crossed over, and was bending over the woman’s diair trying to see her face. M‘lt—lt would depend on the man,” she said softly. ‘‘l am the man. ’ ’ & * * * By a peculiar coincidence, on the day that Captain Chambers and Mrs Hilary Buriash were quietly married at a Registry Office off the Strand, the engagement was announced of Visconnt Hardslade to Miss Margaret (Peggy) Loriston, and rumour Jiad it that the young couple were head over heels in love with each other.