A CURIOUS COURTSHIP.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXII, Issue 259, 9 November 1901, Page 6

A CURIOUS COURTSHIP.

SHORT STOKY (ComDlete.l

(From "Punch.")

Personae

Blanche Alder (21). Enid Forsyth (30) Freddy Alder (16). Cecil Carington (28). _

Scene.—A bright little drawing-room in Mayfair, Blanche -Alder, who U the only daughter of a fascinating widower, is surrounded by flora* tributes and other presents in honour of her twenty-first birthday. She is reading to herself a telegram that runs as follows: —

"It is better I should never see you again. Better soC perfect an ideal should remain a vision. Only, should we see more of each other, it might lead to anguish and despair for me. Do not eveu answer this; if is belter so. Good-bye. Reply paid. —Cecil Carington, Victoria-Street."

Footman (announcing) —Mrs Forsyth.

[Enter Blanche's greatest friend.]

Blanche (hiding the telegram)—Oh, how are you, darling? Enid (taking off her furs, with a quick glance round) —What is the matter, Blanche? Is anything wrong?

Blanche—l am rather worried, dear Can I trust you?

Enid (reproachfully)—Oh, Blanche.

Blanche (apologetically)—lt's such a great secret, dear —About my brother —poor little Freddy—you know. He's spending- the holidays with Uncle Sa.vile. He wants to marry. He wants to marry Carrie Floyd, and he has asked me to lend him 15 shillings.

Enid —Is that enough to marry on?

Blanche—Oh, of course not! But he says that doesn't matter. She has such a splendid salary at the Tiv— where she sings, you know. Classical concerts! Besides, dear, think! She is married already, and has six children. And, then, the disparity of age! She is forty-six, and he is sixteen. He says he knows all that—he isn't blind to the facts—but it's real love, the sort of thing you read of in books

Enid—Or newspapers,

Blanche —Yes; and he can't live without her. Oh, think how papa will 1 And such a difference in age!

Enid—l think nothing of that. It is often done nowadays. But if she is married already there seems no danger of its coming off, so I can't sympathise very much.

Blanche—Darling Enid! How sensible and soothing you always are!

Enid—And is that all?

Blanche —Very nearly. It was papa who gave me this bracelet for my birthday.

Enid —And, of course, you didn't appreciate it. How little you care for diamonds!

Blanche —They last so long!

Enid —You would give all your jewels for a mass of gardenias. And who sent the gardenias and orchids?

Blanche —Young Reeves. He thinks I am a heartless, sophisticated woman of the world, and disapproves of me, but says I have a morbid attraction for him. The rosebuds are from old Mr Coulston. He says I'm so refreshingly simple and innocent, it's quite a treat to meet that port of girl nowadays. And he begins <i long letter —a sort of patronising proposal— with "My Dear Young Lady: May an old friend of the family venture," fti)d so on—you know the kiud of thing. Isn't it funny, to be so different v-'ith different people? And how can one help it? I suppose it's the point of view.

Enid —And the attitude. Is that a new photograph of Arthur? It is rather nattered.

Blanche—Ah, you see, he took it himself. And he photographs so well —too well! He does everything- so well. I think that's what I don't like about him.

Enid—l can't imagine, Blanche, why you don't marry him and—and get it over! He has everything in the world. You'll never meet any one nicer. You've been followed about for the most absurd length of time by these three admirers—old Mr Coulston, Bobby Reeves and Arthur—and it's time you decided. It would be such a relief to my mind! I'm always afraid you'll do something idiotic—l meant original, but it's the same thing-. Do marry Arthur—please!

Blanche—Oh, I can't! He's too suitable!

Enid—Rubbish! Besides, if . that's an objection, he probably won't remain suitable. No, I won't argue on those grounds, and I won't listen to such nonsense. He's handsome, enormously rich, will have a pretty name some day—he'll be Lord Lynnesede. wont he? —and is the best fellow in the world. Also, so well balanced and the right age. Just what you need! The very person.

Blanche—Please don't be irritating, Enid; and it's no use saying more, because I can't—l mean, I couldn't — if I wanted to. First, I said I wouldn't marry him, and now he's turned round, rather rudely, and said: "All right, then, I won't marry you. So there!"

Enid—Really, Blanche?

Blanche —Yes,. dear. Here's his letter. (Reads.) "After what passed last evening, I beg to' relinquish for ever the honour to which I have been aspiring so long. You know that I went to that dinner on purpose for a word with you, and you ignored me and spent the entire evening with a perfect stranger. I most sincerely hope you may be happy, though I own that, with your surroundings, and disposition, I have grave fears to the contrary. And as I leave England to-morrow you will be no longer troubled by my importunities." And so on—you know the sort of thing. Horribly rude and cross!

Enid —What have you been doing— and where's the poor boy going to hide his bruised heart?

Blanche—At Monte Carlo. He was going-, anyhow. Enid—And when did this happen?

Blanche (beaming wistfully)—! met. him for the first time last night. He was n perfect stranger! A curious, interesting man, very different from . Oh, don't look so regretful Enid! Arthur's high principles, violent temper and fondness for playing halma would have led to trouble between us—l know it. Now Cecil Carington— I'm not sure I like him, though. Enid—l am sure you do—to-day. What did he say to you? Blanche—Oh, let me see. He said he would like to burn me, like spice, on the altar of a devoted friendship! Enid — A \ strong statement. What did he mean? Blanche —I've no idea. He thinks we met in a previous existence; he remembers it. He has a wonderful memory. Well, it's only about two or three thousand years ago. I suppose. It's a pity I shan't see him again. Enid—Shan't you? (She seems gratified, but sceptical.) Blanche —Well! —not aiTer this afternoon. Now, Enid, don't look like that. I did not ask him to call: I thought, perhaps, he might ask to, but he didn't. He said he preferred our meeting should be like a dream to look back on, an isolated, golden spot in his memory, or something, and of. course I quite agreed with him. Oh, here's his telegram. (Reads telegram.) "It is better I should never see you again; better—so perfect," and so on —you know the kind of thing1. "Do not even answer this; it is better so. Reply paid.—Cecil .Car-ing-ton, Victoria-street." Enid —And what did you answer? Blanche —Pour o'clock. [Enid looks at her watch. A ring is heard.] Blanche —Ah. it's three; very likely there he is. He would, perhaps, be a little early. Don't go, Enid, for ten minutes! Enid —And so that is why you're wearing your new mauve dress. Blanche —I always wear mauve when I'm going to refuse people. Enid —You wear it ver3' seldom, darling1. Blanche —Do you mean I am always accepting people, Enid, dear? Enid (hastily)—No, dear, no. I know you very seldom accept anybody. Footman (announcing) — Master Frederick. [Enter Freddy, a dear boy of about sixteen. Blanche (disappointed)—Oh, it's only you, Freddy? Freddy (rather gruffly, with a nod to Enid) —I just came in, you know; I wanted to tell you—you know my letters ? Blanche—Yes. Freddy—Well, it's off. See? It's all .off. Enid (with humorously exaggerated delicacy)— Shall I leave you? Freddy—Oh, no; I suppose she knows? (To Blanche.) Blanche —Well, I did just mentionFreddy—You would. Well, I don't mind Enid. She's all right. Yes, it's off. She treated me in the most beastly Please never mention her name again. Blanche—Of course I won't, dear. Besides, I never have. I'm so sorry for you; and yet, perhaps it's all for the best. Isn't it, Freddy? Freddy—Yes; rather! Oh, I don't care! Of course, it's the sort of thing that rat/her ruins a chap's life. Of course, I'm awfully cut up, and all that. But she behaved Never mind, Geraldine sent me her photo from school; like to see it? She's done her hair up. It looks awfully rum. Enid —And are you thinking of marrying- again—l mean —again thinking of marrying? Your cousin, Geraldine, for instance? Freddy—Me! Marry! No, thank-: very much. I've had enough of that. No more marrying- for me! I say, you don't expect anybody particularly tfhis afternoon, .do you? Blanche — Well, it's my birthday; and one or two people might Freddy—Oh, all right; I'm off. And, I say, many happy returns. And, I say, are you coining to the beano — Uncle Savile's dinner party? Blanche —Oh, yes; we're coming. Freddy —It'll be appalling, my dear. Just don't come. I give you this straight tip. It's going to be one of those literary beanos —celebrities, and all that. Blanche—Thanks, darling. But I love Uncle Savile's dinners —they're so exciting! You never know whom you may mcct —the most unexpected people. Any one, between the King and Little Tien, might take me in. (To Enid) Everybody goes there, and clever people on Sundays. Enid—Then I should prefer the other days. I hate being the only stupid person in a crowd of clever people. They make such a fuss about one. Freddy—l don't know. I never tried it. I didn't have a bad time there. I keep out of the drawing room. I go to. the Alhambra a °-ood deal. Uncle Savile isn't bad. Footman (announcing)—Mr Carington. [Enter good-looking, sprightly young man.] Cecil Carington (fluently)— How are you, and what have you been doing with yourself all this time. I can't think how long it is since I've seen you. It must be years and years. Enid, aware they met last night for the first time, is somewhat impressed. Blanche introduces them. Freddy glares shyly with disapproval. Blanclie ' (equal to the occasion) — Yes, isn't it ages? And where have you beeii burying yourself all these centuries? C.C. (putting down his hat and o-]oves) —I've been in the country. Enid —What have yoti been doing there? Cccil —I've been looking for threeleaved clovers. Blanche (with soft earnestness) —■ And did you find any? C.C. —F*ar too many. I think threeleaved clovers are getting most horribly common now. 1 hardly think they're worth bothering about. Do you Mrs. Forsyth? Freddy (getting up, with a look combined of intense envy of Cecil's j clothes with a deep disgust of his con versation) —I'm off. Can I see you home, Enid? [They take leave.]

Cecil Caring-ton (on the sofa by Blanche)-Yes 1 think life is too short to waste such a fnghttul lot of time. . . Some people can live more in an hour than others in a year. Yes, of course I'm in love with you. I have only one question to ask. Will you answer it frankly.. Will you marry me?

Blanche (carried away)— Yes. [And she did, and lived happily ever after.]