Frank Weston's Sweetheart

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 346, 27 February 1889, Page 3

Frank Weston's Sweetheart

" I linger round the very spot. Whore Tears ago wo met. And wonder when you quite forgot, Oi* if you quito forget ; .And tender yearnings rise anew, Foy love Unit used to be, I f 5 on could know that I w as true, Or I that you wore free. 1 i (§|ifp%^^s£) 'WASaverj'lender, sympa'flo^Wfs^*H» tnct ' c v °i c 0 that broke upJo*~^ fMllp&tf on the stillness oiaperfect >i^A(\h „ day ; bvit it seemed to stir -«£ss^v i^~/3 no answei 'i»g chord in tho "^ =^L^%w,,if hearts of those who heavd. (ffiy>\\^(\o Instead, Guy looked up with an amused smilo on (lls^iiDfj n * s S) anc * dwelling in the biown eyes that were usually ?o melancholy. ; ' Well?' said the singer, inquiringly. Guy bent over his canvas again, putting a shade here and there dettly with his brush, leaning back to regard the effect attentively ; then, as if suddenly romemoering that inquiring 'Well 1 ?' he looked beyond the qucstionei, at George Willis, saying— ' " Consistency, thou art a jewel !" Frank is always singing love songs ot the " tonder-and-true " type and he couldn't remember a sweetheart six months.' George Willis dipped his pen in the ink, his moustache barely concealing a smile, as he answeicd — ' You think Frank ought rather to sing — '" IE she be not tair to me What care 1 how tair she be ?" ' ■ Well," said Frank, whirling round on the music stool and facing his two friends, ' why should I remember? It's "out of sight, out ot mind " with the fair sex.' ' I do not agree with you,' said Guy, shoi tly, turning again to his work, the »mile dsing out of his eyes, and his lips closing resolutely. 'lie doesn't think tint himself,' said Geoige, writing away indusuiously. 'He only wants to get up an aigumont ; any man in his sobei senses could not help knowing women are true, if they are really tender — ' 'Humph inteirupted Frank. '1 do mean it. Look at Bert Riveis, for example ; he " remembered,' 1 and look at the wieck Nell Ben ton made of him by throwing him o\er for old Grayson and his money. Geoige Willie Hid down his pen, and, turning to Frank, remarked— 'Yes ; look at Bert Rivers : but. while thinking of him, run over in your mind the list of young ladies you ha\e known who have been considered less deshable by men after another with moie money appears. Young ladies, as a rule, do not make \\ leeks of themselves as Beit Rivers did, but I don't doubt they sufter quite as much. I've no patience with you, Frank, when you talk like that.' 'Wait till Frank tinds out what the tender passion really is,' said Guy. ' lie may change his tune then.' He had nob looked up fiom his painting as he spoke, and did not see, as George Willis did, the look Frank's ff.ee woie as he leisurely walked out of the room. Turning again to his writing, Guoige i found the subject lie had been engiosscd with had lost all interest for him. He could not keep the thiead of his stoiy ; that look upon Frank s face haunted him. Finally he threw down the pen in disgust, and ciossing the room, stated himself in an easy chair by an open window, and, lighting a cigar ua\c himself up to hid th night 5 . 'Guy,' he s.'iid after a tune, 'your remark about Fiank finding out what the lendoi' pa^-ton i eally was awoke a memory of some His face changed, and he loft nt once ; did j ou notice?' Guy looked toundin astonishment. | ' Notice —no ' He is so apt to go out in that manner, I thought nothing of it.' IDo jou know much of his life?' asked George, taking hi-> cigar from his lips, and blowing a long, cii cling cloud of smoke out of the onen w indow: ' Why, we weie boys together,' answered Guy. ' and gieat hiend? till we reached our twenties. He was devoting all his energies to music then, and 1 came here to study. I had 'not seen him for something like five yeai'o when I met him accidentally a month ago, and brought him home. Why ?' 'I was only wondering if he were not speaking horn expeiience in legaid to the "out of-.-ight, out of-mind " "dage. 1 ' Pei haps,' said Guv, gravel j . Ho leaned back in his chair, tapping his ea^el in a meditative way, his biown eyes looking diiectly a;, yet, cleaily not seeing, the painting he had been at woik upon, 'it's a (jueei thing ' lie said at length, ' this lo\ c, making or marring men's and w omen's ii\ es. Frank always talks so lightly of lo\e it^lf, and of tho endurance of a woman's fancy, ds he terms it, and I thought his knowledge must be limited ; perhaps he speaks from bitter experience, and has not yet learned the lesson of resignation.' 'Id may be, 'said Geoige. ' Bub he seems quite happy when singing hid 10-\e songs to Miss Paul or Miss Miller. ' 'He may not think ot either of them as he sings,' said Guy. ' Surely he cannot sing with any more feeling than he does here for us — or for himself, alone Frank's apt to talk as if he doubted everything and everybody, bub perhaps he ha& good reason for it.' (jlcorge flung away his cigar and sat silent. The sun had gone down in the west, and only the golden light resting on the ragged edges of the clouds gave hint of its recent presence A cool, soft breeze caiie up from the sea, blowing the curtains soitly about, and waving the branches of the tall trees gently to and fro. Guy had covered his easel and was at a window, his curly brown locks stirred by the bieeze, his biown eyes, sombre and sad gazing at the sun-tipped clouds in the west. ' You have nob forgotten,' said George, continuing the thought. ' No,' said Guy, simply. 'I do not try. My memory cannot make me unhappy except in that it is but memory. Had Alice lived, she could have been no dearer than is her memory. As it is — well you an'l I get on well together, George ; we might be worse off, I suppose.' He smiled, as he finished speaking, that sad smile George knew so well. ' Yes,' was the reply ; 'we do get on well together. I expect we shall, until the end of the chapter.' Guy looked at him inquiringly. 'To the end of the chapter — yes. But how about the volume, George ? You do not expect to feel content always like this,' woving his hand towards the interior of tho room. ' It's quite pleasant up here, but it isn't just what I used to dream of with — her.' He spoke truly ; it was pleasant. The two young men had met by chance but a mutual attraction drew them together, and they had concluded to work in company. They obtained & large, pleasant room, with windows looking out towards the sea, and furnished it as best suited their taste. Guy had painted, and George wrote, and life went on smoothly and uneventfully, until Guy met Alice Leslie. It was a case of love at first sight, and Miss Leslie's bright eyes, and tender, smiling lips, looked down at one from many a painted scene upon the 1 artist's walls. But death claimed her as

his own, and only a few weeks before the time appointed for their marriage Guy followed her to the grave instead. George Willis often felt his heart go out in sympathy towards his friend, who had seen all his fondest, brightest hopes laid low ; who, applying himself with greater earnestness than ever to his work, went on his way quietly— only a sadness dwelt in the brown eyes, and lingcied about his lips. Nearly two years had gone by, when one day he stumbled upon his friend ot years before, and brought Frank Weston home with him. Frank was charmed, and asked to bo admitted into tho cnclo. He was teaching music, and as they were found ol hearing his voice, they gave a willing consent. Frank's inclinations and theirs w-eie totally different. They were quiet, and found their greatest pleasure \vithin these four walls. Frankwasrestloss — neverquicb, never quite 'at peace,' except as he played grand old anthems, or pang his tender love songs. They did not understand him. but he had only been with them a month. Time brings many explanations, und George Willis fancied he had a clue to Frank's unrest. i Fainter, fainter, grew the golden light in the west, and puiplo shadows threw their sombre lengths about the room. Thej' heard Frank's quick, springing step along the coriidor, and each waited his coming with interest. It was not an unusual thing foi Frank to (md the two friends as he found them now, sitting in die summer twilight, speaking occasionally, moie oiton silent, each occupied with his own thoughts. Often lie wondered ol what they wore thinking — these two. Both weie young and gitted. Was woi kail that lite held for them — to gain some cheiished ambition then solo aim ?It would seem so. He had yet to hear them speak of anything else with any degree of interest. Yet he found moie pleasure in their society, felt more at peace I with all the woiid when with them, than he had before since Maud Mandel jilted him. He had been thinking only this morning that perhap-* life was worth living, after all — perhaps time would be yeneious ; but Guy's chance woids had shot home, and all the unrest and bitter feelings again gained possession ' Wait until Fiank finds out what the " tender passion " really is,' Guy had said. Oh i did he not know, to his sorrow ? And straightway theic lose before him the \ i-sion ot one summer, only two years before, when Maud MaiuW looked into his eyes, and he had belie\ed the eyes to affirm what her lips had s'lid — that she loved him and would he his w lfe. \\ hat a siimmei that had been '. Just one sweet, happy dioam ; but. the awakening had come, and it had been bitter. , Called away on business for only a short week, he left. Maud, couhtknt of her love, her tiuth, her faithfulness. Each day bi ought nearer the fruition of his hopes, and he was an impatient; as ever lover was to return to his piomised biide. Judge his astonishment, it you can, when, looking over the morning paper, bhe very day he expected to have lotuinod he saw the announcement of hei maniage, the evening befoie, to a wealthy count ! lie n\b overwhelmed with amazement. It could not be true ' His Maud, upon whose would have staked lite itself it roies^aiy. But a telegram from a friend con tinned it. He was far horn the scene of his disappointment, and Guy belonged to the jeais before he had met Maud Mandel ; to he associated himself with the two friends, and deteimincd to forget. As if one could —quits. Guy and George looked in his direction, as he entered, and hs ielt the welcome they did not speak in \vold3. Seating himself at the piano ho began to play tender snatches of familiar aiis, and finally gliding into tome of the anthems beloved to well, and which seemed to soothe his tioubled heait as nothing else could. His playing wa^ marvellous, people said : tho i\ory keys seemed to speak as his fingeis elided o-ser them. No one e\er talked while he played — they could only listen and admiie the depth, feeling, and emotion his playing brought forth. Tne thiee friends weie not inclined to talk that evening. Two, at least, had been looking back, and were silent in consequence. As they sepaiated tor the night, Frank said — ' I met Philip while out, and Mrs DArcy has sent us an in\itation for to-morrow night. Some friend, I believe, is to add a pleasant teatuie to the evening. You will go?' 'OE course,' said Gcoige. ' Who ever lehises to gn to Mis D'ArcyS ? One is cortain to meet the best people and the most talented; her e\enings are always a pleasure.' The next day as they weie leading their jpttci «, Guy said — ' \\ ell, here's a foundation toi a story, George ! It seems the time has not gone by for daughters to be sacrificed to a lather's ambition. This letter tcllo of a young lady who was engaged to be mariied to a young man whom she loved deaily ; but, at almost the hist moment, and during her lover's absence, her father persuades her to many a foioij>ner with plenty ot money and a title m order to aveiL financial ruin and the subsequent troubles. The girl, it seems, made the sacrifice to shield her father, but drooped, and seemed likely to fade away altogether, when an accident made her a widow, aud the story has come out through the count's papeis. Isn't that a good veiy plot, taken from real life? The young widow's name was Maud Mandel when a girl. E\er happen to know her, Frank ?' ) For Frank, at tho mention of Maud Mandel, had started up from his chair, and was lo.king at Guy in a manner that young man did not understand. 'Know her? Yes; slightly. I'm the young man she was engaged to ; but I never before knew the reason of her sudden maiuiago to the count.' He never heeded what his two friends said ; only one thought filled his mmd — Maud ! She was not fickle, then — had not thrown him over of her own free will. He put on his hat, and went for a stroll down by the sea. He wanted to think — to be alone. And she was a widow ! He had never particularly cared for widows ; but this one was Maud. Night came. Mrs DArcy must not be slighted, even though his thoughts were thousands of miles away. The three young men entered together, and while exchanging greetings with their hostess someone began to sing. Guy and George exchanged glances ; it was Frank's favourite :—: — ' And tender yearnings rise anew For love that used to be ; If you could know that I was true, And I that you were free !' With a half-smothered exclamation, Frank made his way to the piano, and when the fair singer ceased, Guy and George were not surprised to see her place her hand within his arm as he offered it, saying only— Evidently several other interesting memories had not been forgotten ; and when the two returned from a stroll round the conservatory, Frank's face was sufficient index to his state of mind.

The count had been dead six months ; and when another six months roll by, Frank will have had ample limo to be cured of his habit of speaking lightly of woman's devotion. Guy and George threaten him with diie calamities at the hands of theluturo ' Mrs Frank Weston if he annoys hei, as he once did them by his opinion. But there seems no danger; and now when thoy sit in the gloaming, and Frank presidos, as usual, at the piano, keen observers, .such as his two friends, remark that, while he plays with (juite as much feeling as ever, a sort of hopeful, happy expectancy has enteied into the music, which, they say, is but a leilection ot his thought— of the bright future to which he is looking forwaid.