THE OBJECT LESSON

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 61, 26 October 1907, Page 3

THE OBJECT LESSON

Harold Alwyn sauntering moodily along the almost deserted street, paused for the sixth time that evening in front of a letter box and drew out an envelope from his pocket. '

For a full minute lie stood with knottea brow an ,i c i ouded eye3j turni th(j letter about m his hands, now rc-adjust-mg the address, now flicking the unsealtL%? .? e enVclope with nervous thumb and finger. Twice his features stiffened with sudden resolution, and he made a movement to close the envelope but each tune he paused, the hard line of lus mouth relaxed, and his teeth closed on his nether lip. Two girls, idling past, noted the tall, well-proportioned figure and the handsome young face, with its harassed forehead and vacant eyes, and one nudced the other. b

j-lxiony, I guess," she said. ■Soused," answered her companion. They had not intended to speak so loud, but Harold heard them anTst A after them. He felt no offence, merely a dull curiosity in them as members of a sex which at that time was occupying his mind to the exclusion of everything else. "

He noted their garish clothes the swaggerof their walk, and the harshness of their voices, and then he thought of another girl, high-bred to the tips of her finger*; he thought of a slender figure in a pale grey and a low voice, that most excellent thing in a woman For the sixth time he put the letter back in lus pocket and passed on his way-.-

ilis steps led him to the ferry landing where a boat was taking on a crowd of pleasure-seekers bound for the cool breezes and manifold recreation of a resort known as "The Island." For a time he stood, darkly watching the eager, jostling throng. With his broad shoulders against the picket feuce be eyed the girls as they swarmed past iiverytlnng m petticoats, between the ages of seventeen and twenty-five, had a fascination for him.

One girl, clinging to the arm of a young man had tears upon her cheeks and he throbbed with a spasm of pitv' He would, have liked to take out his handkerchief and dry those tears and speak kindly to her. His heart was ve-y soft, and when he happened to put liis hand into his pocket and touch the letter, he wmced as though someone had struck hiin.

And aways, ghost-like beside the crowd stood a grey 'figure with dark eyes, heavy with unshed tears, and a proud little mouth which trembled, as he had seen it.

Presently he grew weary 0 f watching, and followed the crowd on board. lie did not ascend to the upper deck, but remained below, staring across the watcs of the bay through the freight gangway Close behind him the machinery of the old boat moaned and grumbled, and i loose nut clacked steadily. Above ill other sounds the cl.-o-king of the nut impinged on his ear-drums. "What a cad I am!" he said, and the nut caught the word and repeated it rhythmically, persistently: "Cad-Cad —Cad—Cad!"

The sound annoyed him after a while and he moved away, but it followed him "Th.'.T r^' X hc ste Pl* d aeh °™ at Jne island he continued to hear it He wandered aimlessly about for a while among the merrymakers, but, failing lo iind distraction, made his way a ong a strip of sand bar, deserted by '1 I MU ' a !kw scatu "'ed couples. Stunted bushes grew here and there, and l* threw himself upon the sand beside one He drew out his letter, and l, v t h a rays ot an arc-lamp which glowed ner Latll*^ 1 '- HedMiio ueea a light, for every word and senaTlir b , Ul ' nC<i de6 P into W» ~y Had he not spent hours composing it tearing up sheet after sheetHTa\ ,' eilort to soften its brutality t It was a cruel letter," but at least it was an honest one. There was n„t grt the h * rd . cold fact that ambition was more to the writer than love that he must wed money ulld inSuenle'if ?e fiirift^ 11 '^ iduuei, Hut he had come to the uarlin» 1m „i y "" tUe '""> U 'c city of gold and power, instead of the jessamine bo deed lane which would le d to uu changed-heiivedherfl^tS-:

He said nothing of hij prospects bnf he knew thai she would know ' Alice,, Greshau,, daughter of the groat hnancer the mail who held in the hoi. low of hi, hand half the electric r-.ihvT-, m tl,e comitrv, would bo his for 'the it.-kiug. _ Everybody knew that A, the son-in-law of such a man, and with a wife worth a million in her own right to what heights might he not rise» ' He put the letter Back in the envelWby had he not posted it? Once out nt In- hands, it would bar for ever the flowery talk and set his feet, beyond the power of turning back to the iiM,. way which led to flue citjsrjof Ms dreams. '* It would be a wrench—a horrible wrench for both of them—but time would heal the sear. Better the bitterness of parting now that grinding regrets and the disillusionments and the helpless chafing against the barriers which an improvident marriage would rear about him. And she? Her pride would Coma iq

her rescue. Had he not noted it in her eye and lip when last they parted and lie hint t a ~ a VCVy ' VWy gCntle He had not seen her for three daysthree whole long, lonely days. He'had not dared. Courage he had in plenty of a kind, but not that, ' He could not tell her, eye to eye that he had made up his mind to play the—yes, better be honest about it—to play the cad. It had been hard enough to write it. Had she missed him very much? Had she listened those last three nights for his footsteps? Had she Oh, pshaw. It was over now. He had laid'out his path in life, and perhaps some day . No. She would never look at himj never speak to him again. And yet he had done no more than other men would do with such opportunities before them. Strong men, men whose memories the world held in honor, had trodden love underfoot, marching steadily, ruthlessly, to the goal of their ambitions. In what was he worse that theyf But through all his sophjsms and syuic'isms his conscience rose up and sinote him on the lips and told him that hewas a cad—a sordid cad.

As he meditated, ho heard the sound of voices, and, peering through the twig-, he saw two figures approaching, a man' and a girl. The man was big and strong „„d „.,. right, and swaggered as he walked. His hat was cocked rakishly, nml ~ C ,-„ |U .. cite tilted upward from the corner ot nis mouth. He was good-lookiV after a coarse fashion, and dressed In the slyk which achieves th. most pronounced , fleet for the least expenditure. the girl was apparently a shop-girl, with nothing distinctive about her but J?. , 0y f e3 ,T s°nwful eyes-eyes which told oi a hard and bitter fight against the world, of a soul which had passed unspotted through the conflict A bench stood a few yards from where Harold sat, and the man threw himself on it with a sudden scowl. The girl stood beside him, resting her hand on the back and looking down on him The arc-light shone on their faces, and Harold from his hiding-place could see the tragedy written in the girl's expression. He would have risen and moved away, but something held him 4. his place. softly-Jvou are tired of me, and have brought me here to tell me so»" The scowl on the man's face deepened, and ] ie beat his cheap cane against the side of his pointed shoe.

"If you like to put it that way " he said morosely "I was happy this morning," the girl r!?, m < ,n » l«w voice, and speaking half to herself. "I had looked forward so much to this little trip with you I even wondered whether we would tal-e many little trips when we were marriel You know you said we would be married when you got your rise, and it seemed like heaven to me when you told «-'t had come. I saw a littfe house yesterday I thought would suit us I" —there was a catch in her voice—"l even went and inquired the rent. Such a cheap house, and so pretty'" "What's the good of talking that sentimental rot?" the man interrupted, and Harold's fingers tingled to their tip, Don t you understand it's all over and done with, or do I have to speak plainer?" ' filleiT g ' rl ' S lIPS tiemhkd and ,ler cy™

"Don't bo lard on me," she said. Make it as easy for me as you can. H I thought it was best for you ■" Best for me?" broke in the man. Of course it's best for me. What kind of a lime would we have, me hating you for holding me down, and you getting to hate me for hating you"! i can do better for myself." "Do you mean Amy Wells?" asked the girl, and her head went back a little "ies, I do mean Amy Wells," replied the man. "Look what her father can do lor me. "I'd be a partner in no time."

Tell me," said the girl,after a lon* pause. "Tell nie-honest and trueare you tired of me ?"

For several seconds the man made no reply, but gnawed his nnderlip savagelv Then, with a sudden stiffening of his whole form, he spoke. "Yes," he said brutally, "if you want it in plain talk, I'm sick and tired of you." For a moment Harold thought the girl was going to faint. Her face went the color of chalk, and her eyes closed as she leaned heavily on the back of the bench, but she pulled herself together, and, with an awful yearning in her eyes, looked at the man. "Good-bye," she Said gently. "Good-bye," answered the man sullenly. He did not look at the girl, but at the ground, and prodded little holes in the sand with his cane. The girl moved slowly out of the radius of light. Once she turned and looked back, as though hoping for some sign, but the man never moved, and the darkness swallowed her up.

Harold rose to his feet and stepped io the bench. He stood where the girl had stood, and he was careful to put his hand on the back just where hers had rested—but his hand did not tremble.

He looked down at the coarse figure as the girl had looked. There was yearning in his eyes, too, but of a different kind.

"I was behind that bush," he said quietly, "and I heard all you have been saying."

The sullen face looked up and scanned the, graceful, athletic figure. "And who the deuce are yon?" the man asked offensively. "Our acquaintance," replied Harold pleasantly, "is likely to be so extremely brief that "riiy name hardly matters. But I thought you might like to heir from the lips of an unprejudiced persim —no, not altogether unprejudiced, either —what a blaekguard you are." The other rose clumsily to his feet and i.ourcd out a torrent of profance language, to wMch Harold listened, smiling. "Thank you.'Mie sah3, when the other paused for breath. ~"You don't know how glad lam that you said all that." The man stared at him. "You see," Harold continued, "I have no right to champion that young lady's cauSe. I couldn't very well lick you because you behaved like a brute to her. It really wasn't my business. But, now iiiat you have called me a lot of bad names, I can give you the worst licking you ever Bad in your life on that account, and throw a little extra on hers." The other laughed harshly. "I wouldn't advise you to try it," he said. "I'm a bit of a scrapper, and I never felt more like a scrap than I do now." "Good!" replied Harold. "That's exactly the way I feel myself. A little way over there is a nice piece of hard land with some buslies around it. Shall we begin?" He took the affirmative for granted, and led the way. "Before we start," he said enigmatically, "it may interest yon to know that if you succeed in licking me you will bo givinir me no more than I deserve. Yon don't°know wliy—l merely state it as n fact. Ready?" It did not last long, though it migM have "ended sooner had Harold been so inclined. The boxer of bar-room free and eas'ies had little chance against the man who had for two years held the heavy-weight championship of Harvard, and before twd minutes had elapsed his battered countenance bore eloquent testimony to Harold's prowess. He was game, though, and stood up to his punishment. For reply the other lunged suddenly and cut a gash across tiarold's forehead." "Not enough, eh?" said Harold. "Then take it." ... , , With Sic whole power of lus arm, body and hig, lie landed on the angle of his opponent's jaw, and then stood, grimly watching his feeble efforts to rise. The man raised himself on his hands and his hcid swaved in a drunken fashion. Inarticulate sounds issues from his lips.

Harold, wiping away the blood which trickled into his eyes, was about to raise him when a woman darted across the sand and falling on her knees beside tlie vanquished, put her arm about bis neck and faced the conqueror with blazing eyes. Never in his life had Harold seen such a tigress look on a woman's f aCP - , • , um "Y r ou brute!" she cried. "Oh, you brute 1 You have killed him." She took a shabby little handkerchief, i(l<vd with cheap lace, from the bosom of" her dress and tenderly wiped the brui-Td and broken face. The man snuggled his head on the thin shouder, and his hot forehead rested against the'nape of the white neck above the scrimpy collar. She bent her head and kissed him, murmuring endearing words, and the man sighed like a tired child, thankfulfor rcst°for his weary spirit. He groaned a little, and the girl turned furious- | ly again on Harold, who was looking on wide-eyed, "Xou murderer!" she jried, "I will

| liave you arrested if he dies. i¥ou will I be hung." \ The, man caught the hand which the girl was shaking in her passion, and drew it gently dovn. "Hold on', Maine," ho said forcing the words with difficulty through" his swollen lips. "It was a fair scrap. He gave me a good licking, and I deserved it." "Deserved it!" echoed the girl "To be half killed?" "He heard what I said to you," the man continued. "He came out an' told me I was a mean skunk, an' when I called him names back he said he could not hammer me for what I had done to you because it was none of his funeral, but lie could do me up on his own account with an extra crack or two for you. And he did. 1 guess that last crack was yours." The girl's arm .tightened about her lover's neck. ''An'. Maine," the hoarse voice went on, "I want to say, in front of him, that what I said about being tired of you wasn't so. I didn't mean it, but I was ugly and mad with myself. Old man Wells as good as told me last night that if 1 hitched up with Amy he'd lix things so I'd make money like pickin' it off the bushes. He could, too, I guess. An' i fell for it. But now''"—he carried the girl's hand to his lips with a sort of clumsy chivalry—"if you can forget it old man Wells an' Amy can go plunk—, nn' we'll fix it about that little house you was talkin' of."

"T guess I can forget it," she whispered, and then she fell to weeping softh'- . 'Tin a bit in the way here," Harold said cheerily. "I'll dear, but before I go I'd like to shake your hand, if vou don't mind, iou're a better man than 1 took you for." "I reckon y'otTmust have hammered it into me," said the other, as they exchanged grips. "Vou certainly gave me a lesson." "There are several lessons knocking about to-night," Harold returned. 'l've learned something myself." during te year. He turned to the girl and held out his hand. The girl put out her hand hesitatingly, and then drew it back. "I can't," she said harshly. Harold laughed pleasantly. "All right," he said. He turned and strode away. Once he turned and looked back. He was forgotten. The man had both arms about the girl's waist, and her head lay on his breast. "Best live minutes' work I ever did in my life," he said as he made his way to the landing. Out once more in the waters of the bay, he leaned over the forward rail and watched the lights of the city drawing nearer. A mile inland the face of tho cathedral clock glowed like a beacon, and his eyes were fastened upon it. Almost within the shadow of the spire was a little house, and within that little house was ' Ho laughed happily and drew a white object from his pocket. A minute later something' like a miniature snowstorm fluttered softly away in the darkness. "Miss Elinor in?" he asked a little later of the trim maid who admitted her to the little house. "In the drawing room? You needn't announce me." He opened tho door, and a slender figure in grey sprang up with a cry of pleasure. "Elinor," he said, "I am a beast and a cad, and not worthy to tie the lace of your little shoe, but " He opened his arms, and the grey figure went to his breast and nestled there.—C. Langton Clarke, in the Scrap Book.