The Storyteller.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 7844, 9 June 1905, Page 4

The Storyteller.

THE EARTHQUAKE, h\eryone seemed to Have left. "It i is nice to have them go," 1 said to' : myself i; but for all that/ t I wandered! about Florence as restless and.lono- , ly as a cat that had lost her kittens. , ho I crossed the Ponte Vecehia, , bought two bottles of my ftfvpurito vintage, and wandered on towards the Via Bardi. My friend was out. I foraged about a 'bit, found a little cjheese, some 'bread and cold meat. and dined with an appetite, e*en if 1 was alone. I felt Jjfe'iwdotncsti-: caled sitting at a round table in home-like rooms. i I bvgan to wonder how it wouto seem 'to have someone opposite me | —someone with smiling eyes, and a, pair of slim hands moving leisurely j about from luaput to teacup, hovering over the sugar, touching the jar of anemones. "Old man," 1 said to myself, -Tdon't get sentimental!" # &o, I lighted my cigarette, went out„ ■ called u cab, gave the order "San ■ Minialo," and started off, one leg crossed over the other, pußicg away at • my cigarette, and wishing the presentiment which hung over ma would take shape in soma way or another and be done with. It did take shape- shortly. 1; jumped from my cab, walked to the parapet, .and leaned over. Suddenly my meditations were broken in upon by. a' woman's voice, saying in English: ''There's Dick now, my dear. See? Standing by the parapet. Well, I wjll drop you, then. Avis. G«odaigiht; no—au revoir." ''•"Au revoir," said a sweet voice, a young voice, and someone /descended, I' supposed, for shortly I hoard' the carriage going (down the hill again, and then the girl's steps as l she came towards the railing.""' TOe girl was certainly Uokimj at me, approaching me. Had she mistaken me for Dick 7 It was oh awkward dilemma. I have a horror of. giving people shocks. '' At this moiifent the girl got ■ her shock and I g u t mine. There was ai rumble, a grumble, and a CKimble, a trembling and crunching, a. heaving, billowy motion, as if the round, ball on which we live were in reality a great ship at sea, end the next I knew was the girl was in my arms, • Not a word yet, however, not cyen a look passed between us. For what seemed an eternity we saw the world shaken and troubled. Then the pretty head, with wavy brown hair was on my shoulder, my arms were clasped about a little round waist, and "Oh, Dick" she wus saying in niy' car—"Oh, Dick, is it the Last ,BUy?. Is it?" and| "What do you think will come next, Dick?"

"Heaven will come next for you, iff it really is the Last day," I whispered 'buck, indefinitely,, towards the delicious waVes of •'hair, and ■ pjjik checks. '<Hut it isn't ; it's onlyi an gjearthfifjakc. Don't be frightometi." "Only an earthquake, Dick ! If that isn't liko you ! That's the way the end of the world is earning, by; an earthquake; didn't you know tint ? It's the latest scientific discovery- Oh, what's that ? Another. Don't let me go, Pick ! Why don't you say something 1" " My dear child," I began— Dick were her lover or her brothci* ho might call her that, I thoujgjjt—and then 1 remembered suddenly her l*utjt had cabled her Avis., It -; was absolutely necessary that she shouid ' continue to believe that I was Dick, In the present stato of her nerves it would lie wicked to undeceive her. "My dear Avis," I whispered ;' "my darling ■ little Arvis, I don't say' anything btteiuee I haven't really anything to say. Keep quiet, and I'll take you home in a moment." "Home! Back there.! Back •■ in*o. that tottering old place, where everything was falling and shading !, Never! Dick, isn't this you ? ■ Oh,, ■nrn't you Dick? Has the eerttyjfiakc changed you? Do say something*'' Quito suddenly' we were several ■ fcet apart, with her eyes. ett me—the sweetest eyes that heaven'ever -sent on earth—eyes filled just i'then; With terror and anger, and, underneath, a little soft look that meant forgjvoness, I found out afterwards.. "No, I'm not Dick, but his greatest friend." "Did he send you? -Is ho ill? Oh* "do tell me! " "He's all right," I said ; •" a»d if I wero you 1 wouldn't ask } any* <picstious now. I'll take you and b\-snd-.byc your—er Dick . will introduce us, don't you know." "And I mistook you for Dick I, How absurd! You're not really' a bit alike. Dick is so—(bjUt I forgot, you know just whajt he is like." ' , "Oh, yes : of course." "Why didn't you tell me you were not'he when I-first spoke toy<>u?" " "I think wo can) persuade that stupid cabby to tako us home," I (said . abruptly. But wild horses - could not—his own mild Tina least of alldrag him down the hill into 'that fated town. At last, whether it was by the

magic of a gold pieee, or curiosity, or time, "the great anodyne"—at all events, cabby was persuaded to go back to the dear old stricken city.; We drove slowly about, making our way between carriages, asking foil Avis's aunt; and at last we found h?r, tucked away in a one-seated seated carriage, with two other old ladies and a 'Blenheim spaniel. | Oh, my dear Avis:", she called, and " Oh, my dearest girl!" and then "I am so glad you nre safe, and I have been so worried ! It we ever live to get away from thisi dreadful placo ! " "Don't say anything against dear old Florence. Never hit her whilo she's down." "Don't get out, my dear—don't," pleaded her aunt. "Stay with Dick. There's nouoopi here, aind it's qui;te impossible to get a cab, you know." "But ilhis isn't Di " began Avis. 'Hush, don't tell her now," I whispered. "By the way, I haven't told you who I am. 1 am Robert Pine, of " j " Oh, don't. That isn't necessary; or, if you think it is, let me introduce myself. 1-rb.ut I forgot, you do know me—l am Dick's sister." 1 Ah! She was Dick's sister, not ■ -his wife, thank heaven I sat back, contentedly, and felt ridiculous!}'; happy and maudlin. i It must have been quite three hours when I felt Avis move, and heard ' her voice—a shade of delicious drowi sincss in it—call : j "Oh, there's Dick." Alas! My heaven was over. I must break it to. her before he came. "Dick! " I cried. "Where?"

"Why, right before us. Oh, Dickey, iboy, what should I have done without a friend—an old friend of yours, Mr Pine. He saved my life, and my reason, and everything, up on tho mountain at San Minato." A miracle happened. Tho doors of Heaven were not closed to me ! A friendly voice spoke : •Pine? Not Bob Pice? Well, I am awfully glad to see you, old man!" • • ♦ * Of coussc I joined' the party in a day or two. Dick was awfully glad to meet mo again, he said, and I got so conlidcntial with him that I confessed, a few days after, how I had deceived his sister. He seemed so think, it was a capital joke, and so I made up my mind to tell Avis hej-self.artei" I had told her sotne-t thing eke. We were standing on tho piazza of tho corridor car, as Dick called it, going over the Swiss mountains, when I told her : ••' What a splendid rumble and crumble and tumble land/ crash they will make, if your idea of the Last Day is correct," I snfd to Avis. "I hope we may sec it together." "Oh, not that," pleaded Avis. " I would see anything else with you." "Any and everything?" I said. '"That's what, I want, you know — to have you with me always."