Short Story. It Might Have Been.

Waimate Daily Advertiser, Volume IV, Issue 173, 4 March 1902, Page 1

Short Story. It Might Have Been.

" I wish I bad never married yon,” Madge Danvers said pas* sionately, forfeiting to fcuin tbo tap of tho coffee-urn and letting the liquid run in a brown stream over the white cloth.

“ If only I had accepted Georgu Kersley when he asked me I could have kept my carriage and several servants, instead of slaving, slaving, just to make; invo ends meet.” dim got up, looking very white, and pushed back his chair from tha table.

“ You don’t mean to be cruel, Madge, but you are,” ho said,

boar.'jCily.

“ Yes, I do,” pha cried, reck' lessly. *• 1 moan every word I say. lam sick of being poor, of this poky iitt-io house, of everythin,''.” “ Madge, wo won’t quarrel, dear. Dm just nil' to the city. Kiss mo gcou-byc.” What devil of cruelty possessed her that morning ? “No,” she said, and turned bet bead away. Without another word' Jim. opened the door and went out into the hall.

Madge heard him reach down his hat from the stand, and, through the doer partly ajar, saw him vainly trying to brush the hack of his co it without taking it off. Other mornings she always performed these little duties for him, and went down to the gate to see him mount his bicycle. At the risk of tumbling off ho would turn round two or three times to wave his handkerchief, while Madgo would stand and watch him until ho was out of sight. This morning she"'pooped from behind the curtains as Jim walked down the garden path wheeling his bicycle. She thought how tall and straight ho looked, so much handsomer than that little shrimp, '■.merge Korsley, whom she had never liked.

She half wished he would turn his head to look back at the house. She almost thought she would throw a kiss if he did. But ho didn't.

Madge moved away from tho window' and rang the hell for the small “general” to remove the breakfast things. Then she went into the drawing-room. Dear little room 1 She had spent many huppy hours there. Oh, yes, she loved her bandbox of a home, despite her hasty words. She had almost forgotten by now the origin of their quarrel. She wanted co buy a new bat or something, and Jim said ho couldn’t afford it. Yes, that was all it was about. Of course, it was very unkind of Jim, and entirely his fault. What fun if she should take tho train and go to see her mother at Norwood *for a few hours. She would bo absent when Jim camo homo. Ifow ho would wonder wbero she was, and to what extremities sho had been driven by his harshness. Madge was immensely taken with this idea, Sho thought she would v.'idjo 11 1 o. ortnodox note and leave it on the dining-room table for him to On cl when he relumed. Then when

lie found it was ail a hoax how deiiglucd ho would be. 'Why, it was almost worth the pain of a quarrel to have the pleasure of making it up. But by lunch-time, somehow, the joke didn’t strike Madge as being so funny ns it bad a,t first. She decided that she wouldn’t go to Norwood to soo her mother. She knew nothing vexed Jim so much as drawing a third person into their disagreements.

“ io'-ast said soonest mended,” was his motto.

W«. instead, Madge stopped aft homo and prepared some Jamb cutlets for dinner by way of a peace offering, as she knew Jim was particularly fond of these. Bha began to wish she hadn’t let him go off without a kiss. He was such a dear, good-tempered boy, and Madge knew she would rather have him fur a husband, though they lived in a tiny little house in Clapham, than George Kersley j with a fashionable residence in the West End. Oi course, she had not meant half her unkind words ; only when sho was angry she scarcely know what she said. Well, she would make it up to Jim when he came home. } He generally left the city about j Six o cock, and got home in good time for a seven o’clock dinner, Madge dressed early and eat down in the drawing-room to wait. ■She had put on one of her prettiest frocks an d fastened a little bunch of violets at her throat. She took just as much pleasure in dressing for Jim, after two years of matrimouy, as befot e. The day, early in April, had bee n rather chilly, so there was Fj bright fire burning in the grate. Madge pulled up Jim’s easy chair at\d her favourite low chair close \,o Vo e cheery blaze. Presently me little silver timepiece on the mantelshelf pointed to a quarter to seven. Madge wondered, with a thrill of apnre-

hension, what had detained him. Ho was generally home before ihis. The diminutive maid-ser-vant brought iu the evening paper. Madge picked it up and idly glanced down the columns. Suddenly a head-line—“ Another Bicjcle Accident”-— arrested her attention.

She read the short paragraph which stated how a young man. riding through the Strand, was knocked down by a hansom cab and fearfully injured. He was immediately taken to the hospital, but no hope was entertained of his recover} 7 . There was nothing on him to give any clue to 1 his identity ; and then followed a description of his personal appearance. Madge threw down the paper with a wild cry. The injured man was Jim I Somehow the awfulness of it did not seem to dawn on her at one:', or it would have sent her fnad. She must go to him—that wap 'ho thought which filled her mind. How she told the little maid, ami how she got into her out-door things, ami how she at ima rmod; w the hospital, Madgi : on hi ncvurafter.vinds remember.! Everything was Jiko a strange dream. It was somebody else vdio had been unkind and remised to kiss Jim that morning; somebody else whose husband lay dying.

Madge was only a looker-on, uncomprehending, numbed, feeling nothing,

“My husband mot with a bicycle accident and was brought here tin's afternoon,’“sheexplained ai. the hospital. Only, of cpur.v. it was the somebody else who spoke, Madge merely listened. They looked at her pitifully. Why should they ? It 'had nothing to do with her. But when a nurse took her gently by the arm and removed the scrotm placed around Jim,s bed—when she saw him lying white and still and bandaged—then something in her brain seemed 1.0 snap. ‘.She understood what it all meant now. “0 Jim i Jim ! Won’t you speak to me'? Won’t you say you forgive me ?” she sobbed. “ Hush i hush !” said the nurse. '* He is not conscious. ,Ho lias lain just like this ever since he was brought in. One consolation —he can’t suffer.”

“ Doesn’t he know me ? Will ho never know me again ?” cried Madge, v/ildly. The nurse shook her head, “ I am afraid not,” she answered. “It is no use hiding the truth from you. The doctois say lie can’t live through tin night.’

Jim dying ! Jim, with his love of life, lint strong, healtny frame, his imsuppresfciblo good spirits. It could not be true. It was too cruel.

And she had parted from him that morning without the kiss he asked lor. lids closely-cropped head lay motionless on tne pillow, the ghastly whit© of his face deopened by contrast with the little carefully-curled black moustache, and the longdark eyelashes which rested on his cheek.

They scarcely realised when he ceased to breath. He passed away so quietly. Ah ! how passionately Madge kissed him now, when he could no lunger know or care ! ‘‘Jim, 103' darliru? ! my love I Don’t you know I am sorry —so sorry P” she pleaded over and over again. But dead ears are deaf to om cries for forgiveness. Regret is vain.

“ Madge, sweetheart, are you asleep ? What, you have been crying?” Madge started up. rubbing her oyes, the tears still wet on her cheek. There stood Jim alive and web [certainly anything but a ghost. The hall clock struck a quarter to seven. Madge had fallen asleep over the lire and dreamt it all.

‘Jim! Jim ; Oh, lam so glad, so thankful,’ she cried, dinging to him, and crumpling his collar.

‘ Why ? What has happened ? ' asked Jim, kissing her, feeling rather overcome at the warmthi of her greeting.

Then she told him nil, and he laughed rather shakily. ‘ Well, Madge, I have got something for you.’ ho said, producing a brown paper parcel. ‘I hope you will like it.’ Madge opened the parcel with difficulty, as she insisted on holding. Jim’s hand all tho while. ‘ I believe you are afraid I shall melt away.’ But he was pleased all the same.

At last Madge undid the parcel and disclosed a hat to view—a .startling confection, Jim’s own choosing.

When she had appropriately thanked him they went in to dinner, which, us she had left thtiamb edicts too long in the oveii partook somewhat of the nature of a burnt sacrifice. But nevertheless it was a very happy meal ; and as Madge looked across the table at Jim she thought with thankful tears of what might have been.