Friends.

Waikato Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 1884, 2 August 1884, Page 1 (Supplement)

Friends.

Scene— A Conservator* adjoinikg a Ballroom. She.— A bit of heliotrope. Pretty, is it not ? - He. — Yes, very pretty. She. — Are you fond of heliotrope ? He. — Of that heliotrope, yea. She.— l would put it in your button-hole, but I'm afraid. He.— Afraid? Why? She.— Miss Winthorpe might object. She ia watching us. He.— Why should Miss Winthorpe object ? She. — I don't know if you don't. He.— l don't think Miss Winthorpe nas any special interest in me. She.— l do. He. — Are you jealous of her ? She.— No. Why should I be jealous ? He. — I wish you were. She.— Why ? -" He.— Oh, I don't know, A fellow likes to be of sufficient interest to a woman to make her jealous. She. — Yes, I suppose he does. Are you trying to make Miss-Winthorpo jealous of me? He. — Why do you bring in Miss Winthorpe so often ? Will you put the heliotrope in my button-hole? . She*— You might think too muo.h of, itf,

He.— l couldn't. Perhap3 Mr. Winthorpe might object ? She — Why should Mr Winthorpe objeot ? He.— lf you don't know, I don't. She.— l don't think Mr. Winthorpe takes any special interest in me. He.— l do. She.— There 1 It looks decidedly] rosthetio on ita back-ground of black. He.— May I think a 9 much of it as I like ? She.— Oh, yea; a flower means nothing. If it did, how would I read theboquet a gontleman sent mo to-day? He.— What is it you call this cluster you wear in your— corsage, is it ? I am not up in milliner's terms. She. — You will be some day. He. — What do you mean ? She.— When you marry. Your cheque-book will be your dictionary. He.— lf money could buy such; a thing of beauty as this— She.— That will do. Don't oarry my joke so far. . J He.— ls it very expensive 1 ? She.— What ? He.— A wife. She.— l don't think so. But I've never been a wife. He.— You might be some day. She.— l shall. But I have not seen my husband yet. He. — Are you sure? She.— l see plenty of gentlemen I like. I have no heart, I am afraid. He.— l'm afraid you have not. She.— What do you know about it ? He.— A good deal. I have been looking for it. She.— Are you as foolish as all the rest? I don t like men who talk nonsense. He.— lt is not nonsense. Men sometimes mean what they say. She. — Very rarely. He.— We have not known one another long enough to mistrust one another. Sho. — To trust one another, you mean. He.— No Ido not mean that— l mean what B al' ■ Do you remember our first meeting ? bhe.— No. Our acquaintance never seems to me to have had any beginning. I simply knew you. He. — And trusted me ? She.— And trusted you'? My ! I don't know. It was not— He.— What? ./r. /r . She -— Never mi a<*- What a] 'lovely dress Miss Winthorpe wears. He.— Will you not finish your sentence ? bhe.— lt is nothing— a thought that should not have been uttered anyway. He.— Stay. You are not engaged for this dance? She.— lf I stay I.shall not be. He. — I do not wish to detain you, but — She. — I don't care about dancing any more. He. — It is curious that I too have almost forgotten the first time we met. She. — I don't quite know if that is complimentary. He. — It never occurred to me that we were to be more than mere acquaintances, and now — for a year ■ She. — We have been friends. He. — nave we been truly friends ? She.— l think so. I always liked you. You did not speak to]me as other men spoke. You did not pay me a single compliment for the first six months — except one. He.— l have forgotten. What was it ? She.— That is your flattery— a flattery no woman ever passes unnoticed. He. — Flattery. Wherein is ifflattery ? She.— Don't you know ? He.— l only know that if a it was a compliment, it was meant. She.— And that is the most effective flattery. What wag the compliment ? That I was perfectly lovely with my hair in this style. He. — And so you are. ( She. — The compliment does not go a second time. He.— The truth goes always. She.— Have you heard anything more about your New York appointment ? He. — Yes. I told you I should hear today. You are the only ono who knows anything about it — yet. She.— lam afraid you always put too much confidence in my opinion. The idea of your consulting me on such a subject. He. — You have always been so sensible. She.— l think you taught me that. I heard from my sister to-day. She thinks you were perfectly right about the compromise in our law business, and says she would vary mach like to meet my adviser. Pie. — Does she know of all our confidences ? She.— Oh, yes. Everything. She wrote a week ago to tell Harry— we always speak of you as Harry— l forget what the message was now. Of oourse, she knows of our friendship. He.— l am glad to have her good opinion. She.— Oh, she thinks I ought to— But tell me, are you going to New York ? He. — Yes. I suppose it is best for me. She. — I suppose— it— is. He.— There will be a field for me there, and I will have an opportunity to make both money and fame. Sho.— Ye3;you are right. This 13 but a sorry place for a man a3 clever as you are. He.— l shall not be so happy there, I know. She.— Oh, yes, you will. There where there is life, and gaiety, and society, you will find another — I mean other friends. He.— ls this so sorry a place for you ? She— A woman 13 different. She must patiently await her fate. A man may go and meet it. He. — And so you wish me happiness. Sae.— lndeed— indeed, I do. You have been more to me than all the rest. He. — and you to me. She.— l have been nothing but a helpless woman, left fatherless, who has found one man among the barren lot who did not sicken her with adulation or bore her with love ; who was as tender as a woman, and as manly as a man ; who did his services with such evident pleasure that thanks were out of place. You thought all this was nothing. You thought the word of sympathy was of no value— the little office of friendship that everybody was ready to do, that everybody did. He.— lf I have helped you, it is all the woild to me to know it. She.— We have talked frankly enough before; let us talk frankly now. He. — If there is anything we may not tell ono another frankly, our friendship has been wasted. She. — I know of nothing. I have never felt the slightest hesitation in trusting you. You are going away. To say I shall miss you is to say nothing. I dare not speak so to anybody ejse — not to any man living. You will not misunderstand me. He.— No ; you may be sure of that. Ido not believe I need to tell you the feeling with with which I shall part from you. As I hold your hand and look into jour face, I feel that we are alike. Neither you nor I need terms of endearment to show how much we think of each other. She. — You need not squeeze my hand quite so hard. He.— l think you are cruel. But am I not right ? She.— You are— perfectly right. He. — And when lam gone • She. — You are not gone yet. He. — Shall we be as dear friends as ever ?' She.— Yes. He. — And when tb.B man comes who is to take my place— perhaps to be dearor ? She.— You will be here. He.— You speak as if yoV%ere never to haye * real sweetheart,

She.— l want no swostheart -who can not be my friend. He. — And he who would be both She.— Must be both. , He. — I have never spoken of love. Sometimes a little sentiment has stolen in, but you have not encouraged it. She.— l don't like sentiment. It's always hollow and foolish. He. — But have you not sometimes thought I loved you ? She.— Yes. Sometimes "that-frou have not encouraged it. He.— l was afraid it might throw a doubt upon the purity of my friendship. She.— l know that. I shouldn't wonder if you sometimes thought I loved you. He. — I have, sometimes. She. — How could I love a man who never sought to ba anything but a friend ? Why should I fetter the mau who was so kind and good to me, and tie his love to my miseries, when he had so many qualities that might draw him a worthier wife ? ne.— And why should I ask the woman who trusted ia my friendship and gave me hera, to accept my love a3 a leward for her interest, and to give mo hers as a reward for mine ? If I had ma.de love to you I would have come to the level of all the rest. She.— Now you are talking nonsense. Do you believe that I would ever have given you my confidence If there had been nothing but friendship ? He. — Take care ; you ara committing yourself. She.— And I am very much mistaken if friendship ever could be so waim as yours that had no deeper motive power. He. — This is leap year, and you must take the consequences. She.— Leap year or not, why should I not speak ? Harry, you are going away ; you are going to leave me heya without a friend, without any one that I can rely upon. You have taught me to trust you. You have vreaned me from all other confidants and made me one half of you. You have said we are not the kind who break our hearts. We are not. If there is any other woman whose love will make you happier than mine, tell me, and I will join your hands, so doar is your happiness to me. You have known all the time that I loved you. If I have read you wrongly, it has not been your fault. Our friendship calls for us to speak the truth — woman or man. He.— You have read me aright, as I have you. No woman that had not all my love could have had all my friendship, as you have had. You are my other self ; and now you have spoken, let me speak. I believe that God made us for one another. " Where thou goest I will go, where thou abidest there I will abide ; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." She. — Boaz did not propose to Ruth in a conservatory, but, Harry, darling, I don't mind if you do indulge in a little sentiment now. — Peter Bobertson.