A GRAIN OF HOPE.

Press, Volume LXIV, Issue 13101, 28 April 1908, Page 9

A GRAIN OF HOPE.

Br Beatbicb Hzroh-Maxwzjj-It began at an afternoon party, where as usual, people were feeling more or less bored, and were getting on one another's nerves. The rooms wore too warm, to begin with, and everyone would congregate in tho corner by the ices, so that the music room was almost deserted, an*, the artists wero distinctly annoyed at finding themselves warbling to a few stragglers. "1 am sorry for Mrs Dunstan, sak. Mary Beresford to the man who had just been introduced to her. "I an; afraid wo aro not treating her well. Don't you think wo had better go an., listen to a song?"

"I would rather not," ho answered; 'but 1 am at your command. Only, will you do mc a favour afterwards?" She looked surprised. "Certainly if it is in my power," she assented civilly. "What is it?"

iS'he was looking comery and cool in a green and -white dress of some diaphanous fabric; and there was t-i at-

mosphere of pleasant repose about Miss Beresford that people appreciated without analysing it. It had never occurred tx> her to marry anyone, though the suggestion bad been made to her from time to time. She was well off, she had no rear- relations, and she had reached the age of 33 whilo still possessing the charm for others and the interest in life which were here at 26. She was neither a feminine bachelor nor an old maid, but 6imply an unmarried woman who was eminently marriageable. •'I am the victim, or, rather, 1 suppose, 1 should say tbe hero, of a romance," continued tho man, "and I have an intense yearning to tell some one about it. Will you let mc confide in you?" Ma.ry laughed, and for tbe first time looked to see what manner of man this was. A dark, clean-shaven face, keen and strong, such is you might find among naval officers; a tall, well sot up figure; a gravity of voice and manner that wero redeemed at times, as at this moment, by a twinkle in the handsome eyes, and a cleft, indicitive of humour, at the corners of tho lips. "You must let mc know your name," she said, "if you are going to tell mc the story of your life. I didn't catch whit Mrs Dunstan said." "Lawrence Home," he replied, "and I have just mot my fate." "lieaily?"' Mao' 6 amused glance swept over the crowd round them, and rested on a girl with straight, clearcut profile and dark hair, to whom she transiently remembered Mr Home had been talking when their hostess divided them. "1 see you %re trying to guess," he said, "but I want to begin from the beginning. Won't you let mc off the song, Miss Beresford, and come to the balcony over there?" "It is unprincipled," eadd Mary, wavering. "Mrs Bunstan asked us to go to tho drawing-room." "Principles can be carried too far," he argued. "Let us be selfish for once and choose the balcony." "And so you aro romantic?" asked Mary, when they were ensconced in a shady corner. "Not at all by temperament," he assured her; "but I have become so lately. I saw a woman at a concert and felt so attracted by her that I paid no further attention to the music. Since than chance has willed that we should often be within speaking distance of each othor—in. the street, in a room, at an entertainment—and the attraction has grown with every meeting; so that when I have received an invitation lately I have said to myself,----1 wonder if She will be there?' She with a capital letter. But wo hafve never been introduced till to-day. I found her here. I asked Mrs Dunstan to introduce mo when a favourable opportunity occurred, and the thing is done." "And you feel that your fate is sealed P" " Mary began to be interested, for though hie tone was easy and unconcerned, there was something—she could not tell what—which seemed to show he was in earnest. "For better or for worse—yes," he said. "I am sure she is my alter ego, the one woman in the world for mo; but she may not have the same feeling. In fact, I know for certiin that she has no feeling of any sort about mc, and no consciousness of ever having met m© before. So my only hope is to see her constantly, and that is not so easy as it sounds. For, with the exception of our hostess, wo have no mutual friends that I am aware of it whose bouses we might meet." "Oh, yes," said Mary, hastily; "I know Mies Matthews quite well. She is coming to lunch with mc next week." "Is she?" he said, eagerly. , "And you will ask mc, too? But that is too good of you?" "Not at all. I shall be pleased. Romance deserves encouragement in these prosaic days. She is a charming girl—Ethel Matthews. I have known her quite a long time. We might go to a picture gallery afterwards. James Hart ia coming." She rose to go, and extended her hand with a smile of encouragement to him. "Good-bye," she said. "I have an early dinner engagement, and I must go noV. Don't forget—lunch at two o'clock." "You haven't given mc your address?"

She took out a card from a little jewelled case and gave it to him. "No. 2 Clarendon apartments," he said. "Thanks, I shan't forget, and I am most grateful." And as she went away and his glance followed her, he said to himself: "That was a good move of mine. But what a piece of luck 1" Tho little "square" luncheon party was decidedly a success. James Hart, a rising diplomat,, talked oven better than usual, because he was anxious to please Miss Beresford. Ethel Matthews, who was accustomed to demand and receive admiration with a coolness that is characteristic of the latter day young woman, accepted Mr Homo's attempts to be agreeable graciously, and they were quite friendly by the time they arrived at the galleries. Mary Beresford, watching the progress of the little romance with a thrill at her heart that was half pleasant and yet had a touch of odd sadness in it, decided to see the thing through; and later, she invited both Ethel and Mr Home to dine with her the following week and do a play. It was nice and civil of Mr Home, she thought, to manage a call on her in between the two festivities, and she received him with gracious cordiality. They drifted into talk about themselves, and she learned many interesting things concerning him, so that they seemed like old and intimate friends when they parted. The theatre party promised well at tho commencement, for the fourth man was a steady-going, middle-aged widower with pronounced views, and Mary monopolised him in order to give tho romance freedom to develop itself. Yet presently it seemed as if something had gone wrong. Ethel Matthews was distinctly initiating the widower in the early stages of the art of flirtation, while Lawrence —piqued, no doubt — betrayed a desire to take refuge from her neglect with Mary. It distressed Mary greatly. She was surprised to find that she was full of indignant sympathy with Lawrence — for, after all, love disappointments are usual occurrences; and that she was actually taking a dislike to Ethel because that fickle young person had deserted Mr Homo for the widower. "It is charming of you to tako it so well," she murmured to Lo.wrenco, when he begged the privilege of driving home with her; "but, of course, you must not let it become a real quarrel. You must insist on seeing Miss Matthews to her home." His face fell." "But she has already arranged," he said, "that our honourable and worthy friend should be her escort. I should lot like to intervene." And a moment later Mies Matthews settled the point herself by departingvith the widower, and taking a brief md chilly farewell of Mr Home. As Mary drove towards homo'she wr.s rying to think of appropriate words therewith to oonsolo this blighted over; but she found it so difficult that vhen they reached the flat she had said nothing, and could only endeavour to convey her 6ympathv by a lingering hand clasp. "May I not come in for a moment?" he said. "I have something important to say to you." "Poor fellow!" she reflected. "He is wretched, and may be going to do

something desperate. I must persuade him to be calm." So she gave a gracious assent. "I have been looking forward to this evening more than I can say," Lawrence began. "Will it bore you if I refer to my romance?" She turned to him with tears of earnestness shining in her eyes. "Of course, it will net bore mc," she assured him. "1 cannot express to you how sorry 1 feel, how sincerely I sympathise with you. But I think that Miss Matt-hews. " He interrupted her by taking her hand. '•Need we talk about Miss Matthews?" ho said, while the smile and the twinkle in his eye transformed his face. "It is such absolute waste of time. I would so much rather talk about you, Mary/ She was so astonished that for a moment she could not speak, and he drew her a little nearer to him by the passive hand he held. "I cannot wait any longer," he said. "I nearly told you that I loved you that first day" on Mrs Dunstan's balcony, but I did not venture to for fear of being banished and losing roy chance. It ha 6 seemed an eternity since then, and, to tell the truth. I was getting so bored with Miss Matthews that I am afraid I showed it. Mary, I have loved you from the first moment that I saw you. Don't send mc away." -- "But," sho faltered, "it can't be true. It must be a mistake. You told mc •'I told you the truth." he said, and captured the other hand. "And you, with your delightful lack of egotism, decided that my ideal must bo Miss Matthews. Mary—Mary —how could it bo any one but you? Don't you know how delightful you are? Don't you understand that my life would not bo worth living without you? Can't you care a little bit for mc?" She did not answer, for she was still too much amazed both at him and at herself to be able to speak; but he read something th.it encouraged him in her eyes, for he lifted her hands up to his shoulders and, bending, said softly: "If there is a grain of hope for mc, Mary, v' 7e mc one kiss." And Mary did.