FLAVILLA.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2480, 10 May 1909, Page 2

FLAVILLA.

(By Robert W. Chambers.)

The Green Mouse now dominated 1 the country; the entire United States was occupied in getting married. In the great main office on Madison Avenue, and in a thousand branch offices all over the Union, Destyn-Oarr machines were working furiously; a love-mad nation was illuminated by their sparks. Marriage-license bureaus had been almost put out of business by the sudden matrimonial rush; clergymen became exhausted, wedding bells in the churches were worn thin; California and Florida reported no orange crops, as all the blossoms had been required for brides; there was a shortage of solitaires, travelling clocks, asparagus tongs; and the corner m rice perpetrated by some conscienceless captain of industry produced a panic equalled only by a more terrible coup in slightly worn shoes. All America was ruslung to get mar Tied:; from Seattle to Key West the railroads were blocked with bridal parties; a vast hum of merrymaking resounded from the Golden Gate to Governor s Island, from Niagara to the Gulf of Mexico. In New York City the din was persistent; all day long church bells pealed, all day long the rattle of smart carnages and hired hacks echoed over the asphalt. \ reporter of the Tribune stood on top of the New York Life tower for an entire week, devouring cole-slaw sandwiches and Mario Corelli, and during that period, as his affidavit runs, “never for one consecutive second” were his ample ears free from the near or distant strains of the bedding March.' . , .... And over all, in approving benediction, brooded the wide smile of the greatest of statesmen and the great smile of tho widest of statesmen—these two metaphorically, hand in hand, floated high above their people, scattering encouraging blessings on every bride. A tremendous rise in values set in, tho newly-married required homes; architects were rushed to death; builders, rcaJ-estate operators, brokers, could not handle the business hurled at them by impatient b *Then, seizing time by the fetlock, some indescribable monster secured tho next ten years' output of Teddy-bears and gocar ts; the sins of Standard Oil were forgotten in the menace of such a national catastrophe; mothers’ meetings were held; the excitement became stupendous; a hundred thousand brides invaded the Attornev-Geueral’s office, but all he could think of to say was; "Thirty centuries look down upon you!” These vague sentiments perplexed the coimtrv. People understood that the Government meant well, but they also realised that the time was not far off when millions of go-carts and Theodore-bears would be required in the Tinted Mates. And thev no longer hesitated. All over the Union fairs and bazaars were held to collect funds for a great national factory to turn out carts and bears. Alarmed, the Trust tried to unload; militant womanhood, thoroughly aroused, scorned compromise. In every city, town and hamlet of the nation entertainments were given, money collected, for the great •popular go-cart factory. The affair planned for Oyster Bay was to be particularly brilliant —a water carnival at Centre Island with tableaux, fireworks and illuminations of all sorts. Reassured by the magnificent attitude ot Americas womanhood, business discounted the collapse of the go-cart trust and began to recover from the check very quickly. Stocks advanced, fluctuated, and suddenly whizzed upward like skyrockets; and the long-expected wave of prosperity inundated the country. On the crest of it rode Cupid, bow and arrow's discarded, holding aloft in his hand a Hcstyn-Carr maCh For the old order of things had passed away; the old-fashioned doubts and fears of courtship were now practically superfluous. Anybody on earth could now buy a ticket and be perfectly certain that whoever he or she might chance to marry would be the right one —the one intended by destiny. .... Yet, strange as it may appear, there still remained, here and there, a few young people in the United States who had no desire to bo safely provided ,or by a l)estyn-Carr machine. Whether there was in them some sporting instinct, making hazard attractive, or, perhaps, a conviction that Fate is kind, need not be discussed. The fact remains that there were a very few youthful amt marriageable folk who had no desire to know beforehand what their fate might of these unregenerate reactionists Vas Flavilla. To see her entire family married bv machinery was enough lor her; to witness such consummate and collective happiness became slightly cloying. Perfection can be overdone; a rift in a lute relieves melodious monotony, and when discords cease to amuse ono can always have the instrument mended or buy a banjo. ... . ~ "What I desire,” she said, ignoring the remonstrances of the family, ‘ is a chance to make mistakes. Throe or four nice men have thought they were in love with me, and 1 would’nt take anything for the—experience, or,” she added innocently, for the chances that some day three or four more agreeable young men may think they are in love me. One learns by making mistakes—very pleasantly.” Her family sat in an affectionately earnest row and adjured her —four married sisters, four blissful brothers-in-law, her attractive stepmother, her father. She shook her pretty head and: continued sewing on the costume she was to wear at tho Oyster Bay Venetian Fete and Go-cart Fair. . ~ “No,” she said, threading her needle and deftly sewing a shining, silvery scale on to the mermaid’s dress lying across her knees, “I’ll take my chances with men. It’s better fun to love a man not intended for me and make him love me, and live happily and defiantly eyer after, than to have ?, horrid old machine settle you lor life.” . "But you are wasting tune, my dear, explained her stepmother gently. “Oh, no, I’m not. I’ve been engaged three times and I’ve enjoyed it immensely. That isn’t wasting time, is it? And it’s such fun! He thinks he’s in love and you think you’re in love, and you have such an agreeable time together until you find out that you’re spoons on somebody else. And then you find out you’re mistaken and) you say you always want him for a friend, and you presently begin all over again with a perfectly new man “Flavilla!” “Yes, Pa-pah.” “Are you utterly demoralised “Demoralised? Why? L very body behaved; as I do before you and William invented your horrid machine. Everybody in the world married at hazard, after bcum engaged to various interesting young men. And I’m not demoralised ; I’m only old-fashioned enough to take chances. Flense let me!** The family regarded her sadly. In their amalgamated happiness they deplored her reluctance to enter where perfect bliss was guaranteed. Her choice of role and costume for the Seawanhaka Club water-tableaux they also disapproved of; for she had chosen to represent a character now superfluous and out of date—the Lorelei who lured Teutonic yachtsmen to destruction with her singing some centuries ago. And that, in these times, was ridiculous, because, fortified by a visit to the nearest UestynCarr machine, no weak-minded young sailor-man would care what a Lorelei might do; and she could sing her pretty head off and comb herself bald before any Destyn-Carr inoculated mariner would be lured overboard. , . . , . , But Flavilla obstinately insisted on her scaled and fish-tailed costume. When her turn came, a spotlight on the club-

house was to illuminate the float and reveal her, combine her golden hair with a golden comb and singing away like the Musical Arts. ’ ‘■And,” she thought secretly, if there remains upon this jnachinc-made earth one young man worth my kind consideration, it wouldn’t surprise me very much if lie took a header off the Yacht Club wharf and: requested me to be his. And I d be very likely to listen to his suggestion. So in secret hopes of this pleasing episod'e —but not giving any such reason to her protesting family—she vigorously iesisted all attempts to deprive her of her fish-scales, golden comb, and role in the coming water fete. And now the piogrammes were printed and it was too late for them to intervene. . She rose, holding out the glittering, finny garment, which flashed like a collapsed fish in the sunshine. "It’s finished,” she said. "Now Im going off somewhere by myself to rehearse. "In the water?” asked her father uneasily. ■“Certainly.” As Flavilla was a superb swimmer nobody could object. Later, a maid went down to the landing, stowed away luncheon, water-bottles, and costume in the canoe. Later, Flavilla herself came down to the water’s edge, hatless, sleeves rolled up, balancing a paddle across her shouidcr» As the paddlo flashed and the caiioo danced away over the sparkling waters of Ovster Bay, Flavilla hummed the threadbare German song which she was to sing in her role of Lorelei, and headed toward Northport. , . , , “The thing to do,” she thought to herself, “is to find some nice, little, wooded inlet where I can safely change my costume and rehearse. 1 must know whether I can swim in this tiling—and whether I can sing while swimming about. It would bo more effective, I think, than meioly sitting on the float, and singing and combing my hair through all those verses. The canoe danced across the water, the paddle glittered, dipped, swept astern, and flashed again. Flavilla was very, very happy for no particular reason, which is the best sort of happiness on earth. There is a sandy neck of land which obstructs direct navigation between the sacred waters of Oyster Bay and the profane floods which wash the gravely shores of Northport. “I’II make a carry,” thought Flavilla, beaching her canoe. Then, looking around her at the lonely stretch of sand flanked by woods she realised at once that she need seek no farther for seclusion.

First of all, she dragged the canoe into the woods, then rapidly undressed and drew on the mermaid’s scaly suit, which fitted her to the throat as beautifully as her own skin. It was rather difficult for her to navigate on land, as her legs were incased in a fish's tail, but, seizing her comb and mirror, she managed to wriggle down to tbo water’s edge. A few sun-warmed rocks jutted up some little distance from shore; with a final and vigorous wriggle Flavilla launched herself and struck out, holding comb and mirror in her hands. Fish-tail and accessories impeded her, but she was the sort of swimmer who took no account of such trifles; and after a while she drew herself up from the sea, and, breathless, glittering, iridescent, flopped down upon a flat rock in the sunshine, from which she took a careful survey of the surroundings. Certainly nobody could see her here. Nobody would interrupt her either, because the route of navigation lay far outside, to the north. All around were woods; the place was almost land-locked, save where, far away through the estuary, a blue and hazy horizon glimmered in tho general direction of New England. So, when she had recovered sufficient breath she let down the flashing, goldenbrown hair, sat up on the rock, lifted her pretty nose skyward, and poured forth melody. As she sang the tiresome old Teutonic ballad she combed away vigorously, and every now and then surveyed her features in the mirror.

“Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten Dass ich so traurig bin ”

she sang happily, studying her gestures with care and cheerfully flapping her tail. She had a very lovely voice which had been expensively cultivated. One or two small birds listened attentively for a while, then started in to help her out.

On the verandah of his bungalow, not very far from Northport, stood' a young man of pleasing aspect, knickerbockers, and unusually symmetrical legs. His hand's reposed in his pockets, his eyes, behind their eyeglasses, were fixed dreamily upon the skies. Somebody over beyond that screen of woods was singing very beautifully, and he liked it—at first. However, when the unseen singer had: been singing the Lorelei for an hour, steadily, without intermission, an expression of surprise gradually developed into uneasy astonishment upon his clean-cut and unusually attractive features, "That girl, whoever she is, can sing, all right,” he reflected; “but why on earth does she dope out the same old thing?” He looked at the strip of woods, bat could see nothing of the singer. He listened ; she continued to sing the Lorelei.

"It can’t be a phonograph,” he reasoned, "No sane person could endure an hour of that fool song. No sane person -would sing it for an hour either.” Disturbed, he picked up the marine glasses, slung them over his shoulder, walked up on the hill back of the bungalow, selected a promising tree, and climbed it.

Astride of a lofty limb tho lord of Northport gazed earnestly across tho fringe of woods. Something sparkled out there, something moved, glittering on. a half-submerged rock. He adjusted tho marine glasses and squinted through them. “Great James!” he faltered, dropping them; and almost followed the glasses to destruction on tho ground below. How he managed to get safely to earth lie never knew. “Either I’m crazy,” ho shouted aloud, “or there’s a—a mermaid out there, and I’m going to find out before they chase me to the funny-house!” There was a fat tub of a boat at his landing; he reached the shore in a series of long, distracted leaps, sprang aboard, cast off, thrust both oars deep into tho water, and fairly hurled the boat forward, so that it alternately skipped, wallowed, scuttered and scrambled, like a hen overboard.

"This is terrible,” he groaned. “If I didn’t see what I think I saw I’ll eat my hat; if I did see.what I’m sure I saw, I’m madder than the hatter who made it!”

Nearer and nearer, heard by him distinctly above the frantic splashing of his oars, her Lorelei song sounded perilously sweet and clear.

“Oh, bunch!” he moaned; “it’s horribly like the real thing; and here I come headlong, as they do in the story-books—” He caught a crab that landed him in a graceful parabola under the bow, where he lay biting at the air to recover his breath. Then his boat’s nose ploughed into the sandy neck of land; he clambered to his feet, jumped out, and ran headlong into the belt of trees which screened the singer. Speed and gait recalled the effortless grace of the kangaroo ; when he encountered logs and gullies he rose grandly, sailing into space, landing with a series of soft bounces, which presently brought him to the other side of tho woods. And there, what he beheld, what he heard, almost paralysed him. Weakkneed, he passed a trembling hand' over his incredulous eyes; with the courage of despair, he feebly pinched himself. Then for sixty sickening seconds he closed his eyes and pressed both hands over his ears.

But when ho took his hands away _ and opened his terrified eyes, the exquisitely seductive melody, wind-blown from the water, thrilled him in every fibre; nis wild gaze foil upon a glittering shape—white-armed, golden-haired, fishtailed, slender body glittering with silvery scales. * The low, rippling wash of the tide across the pebbly shore was in Ins ears; the salt wind was in his throat. He saw the sun flash on golden comb and mirror, as her snowy fingers caressed the splendid! masses of her hair; her song stole sweetly seaward as the wind veered. A terrible calm descended upon him. “This is interesting,” ho said aloud. A sickening wave of terror swept him, but he straightened up, squaring his shoul“I may as well face the fact, “that I, Henry Kingsbury Gray, of Pebble Point, Northport, Long Island, and recently m my right mind, am now, this very moment, looking at a—a mermaid in Long Island Sound!” , . , He shuddered; but he was sheer pluciv all through. Teeth might chatter, knees smite together, marrow turn cold ; nothing on earth of Long Island'.could entirely stampede Henry Kingsbury Gray, ot Pebble Point. . His clutch on his -self-control ill any real crisis never slipped ; his mental steer-ing-gear never gave way. Again Ins pallid lips moved in speech: •*q'he—thing—to —do,” ho said very slowlv and deliberately, “is to swim out and—and touch it. If it dissolves into nothing I’ll probably feel better— He began to remove coat, collar aim shoes, forcing himself to talk calmly all the while. , "The thing to do,” he went on dully, is to swim over there and get a- look at it. Of course, it isn’t really there. As tor drowning—it really docsu t mattci. • • In the midst of life we are in Long Island And, if it is therc--1-c-c-can c-capturo it tor the ii-h-Bronx ” . . , Reason tottered; it revived, however, as he plunged into the waters ol Oystci Bay and struck out, silent as a sea-otter, for the shimmering shape on the ruddy rocks.

Flavilla was rehearsing with all her mi< r ht; her white throat swelled with the music she poured forth to the sky and sea; her pretty fingers played with the folds of burnished hair; her gilded handmirror flashed. She -gently beat, time wit.i her tail. So thoroughly, so earnestly, dm she enter into the spirit of the siren she was representing that, at moments, she almost wished some fisherman might come into view—just to sec whether lied really go overboard after her. ( However audacious as her vagi aim thoughts might he, she was entirely unprepared to see a human head, made sleex by sea-water, emerge from the floating weeds almost at her feet. "Goodness,” she said faintly, and attempted to rise. But her fish-tail felteied her. , "Are you real! gasped Gray. "Y-yes. . . • Are you?’ "Great James!” he half-shouted, halfsobbed, “arc you human?” "V-very. Are you?” lie clutched at the weedy rock ami dragged himself up. For a moment ho lay breathing fast, water dripping from his soaked clothing. Once ho feebly touched the glittering fish-tail that lay on the rock beside him. It quivered, but needle and thread had been at work there; he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. , When he opened them again she was looking about for a likely place to launch herself into the bay; in fact, she bad already started to glide toward the water , the scraping of the scales aroused him, and he sat up. “I heard singing,” he said dreamily, “and I climbed a tree and saw—you! Do you blame me for trying to corroborate a tiling like you?” "You thought I was a real one? "I thought that I thought 1 saw a real

one.” She looked at him hopefully. "Tell me, did my singing compel yon to swim out lieie';” )( "I don’t know what compelled me.

•■But you were compiled?” “I —it seems so ’ “O-h !” Flushed, excited, laughing, she clasped her hands under her chin and gazed at him. "To think,” she said softly, “that you believed me to be a real siren, and that my beauty and my singing actually did lure you to my rock! Isn’t it exciting.' He looked at her, then turned red: “Yes, it is,” he said. Hands still clasped together tightly beneath her rounded chin, she surveyed him with intense interest. He was at a disadvantage; the-sleek, half-drowned appearance which a man has who emerges from a swim docs not exhibit him at Ins best. . But he bad a deeper interest for i- lavilla ; her melody and loveliness had actually lured him across the water to the peril of her rocks; this human being, this man creature, seemed to be, in a cense hers. "Please fix your hair,” the said, handing him her comb and mirror: "My hair?” ( “Certainly. I want to look at you. ' Ho thought her request rather extraordinary, but he sat up and with the am of the mirror scraped away at bis wot hair, parting it in the middle and combing it deftly into two gay little Mercury wings. Then, fishing in the soaked pockets of his knickerbockers, he produced a pair of smart pince-nez, which ho put on, and then gazed up at her. “Oh!” she said, with a quick, indrawn breath, “you are attractive!” At that he turned becomingly scarlet. Leaning on one lovely, bare arm, burnished hair clustering against her cheek, she continued to survey him in delighted approval, which sometimes made him squirm inwardly, sometimes almost intoxicated him. “To think,” she murmured, “that 1 lured you out here!” “I am thinking about it,” be said. She laid her head on one side, inspecting him with frankest approval. "I wonder,” she said, "what your name is. I am Flavilla Carr.” "Not one of the Carr triplets?” “Yes—but,” she added quickly, not married. Are you?” "Oh, no, no, no!” lie said hastily. “I in Henry Kingsbury Gray, of Peeble Point, Northport ” "Master and owner of the beautiful but uncertain Sappho? Oh, tell me, are you the man who has tipped over so many times in Long Island Sound? Because I—--1 adore a man who has the pluck to continue to capsize every day or two.” “Then,” he said, “you can safely adore me, for I am that yachtsman who has fallen off the Sappho more times than the White Knight fell off his horse.’’ ‘ I—l1 —I do adore you !” she exclaimed impulsively. “Of course, you d-d-don’t moan that,” he stammered, striving to smile. “Yes —almost. Tell me, you—l know you are not like other men! You never have Had anything to do with a Hestyn Carr machine, have you?” “Never!”, “Neither have I. . . are not in love—arc you?” “No ”

And so you

“Neither am I. Oh, I am so glad that you and I have waited, and not become enfaged to somebody by machinery. . . wonder whom you are destined for.” “Nobody—By machinery.” She clapped* her hands. “Neither am I. It is too stupid, isn’t it? I don’t want to marry the man I ought to marry. I’d rather take chances with a man who attracts me and who is attracted by me. .

There was, in the old days—before every-

body married, by machinery—something not altogether unworthy in being a siren, wasn’t there? . . . It’s perfectly delightful to think of you seeing me out here on the rocks, and then instantly plunging into the ■waves and tearing a foaming right-of-way to what might have been destruction!”

Her flushed, excited face between its clustering curls looked straight into his. “It was destruction,” ho said. His own voice sounded odd to him. “Utter destruction to my peace of mind,” he said again. “You —don’t think that you love me, do you?” she asked. “That would he too—too perfect a climax. . • Do you? ’ she asked curiously. “I—think so.” “Do—do you know it?” He gazed bravely at her: “Ycs.”^ She flung up both arms joyously, then laughed aloud: “Oli, the wonder of it! It is too perfect, too beautiful! You really love me ! Do you? Are you sure?” “Yes Will you try to love

“Well, vou know that sirens don’t care for people*. . . . I’ve already been engaged two or three times. ... I don’t mind being engaged to you.” _ “Couldn’t you care for me, Flavilla?" “Why, yes. Ido Please ■don’t touch me; I’d rather not. Of course, you know, I couldn’t really love you so quickly unless I’d been subjected to one of those Destyn-Carr machines. You know that, don’t, you Rut,” she added frankly, "I wouldn’t like to have you get away from ,me. I—l1 —I feci like a tender-hearted person in the street who is followed by a lost .cat ”

“What!” “Oh, I didn't mean anything unpleasant —truly I didn’t. You know how tenderly ono feels when a poor stray cat comes trotting after one •” He got up, mad all through. “Arc you offended?” she asked sorrowfully. "When I didn’t mean anything except that my heart—which is rather impressionable—feels very warmly and tenderly toward the man who swam after me! .... Won’t you understand, please? Listen, wo have been engaged only a minifte, and hero already is our first quarrel. You can seo for yourself what would 1 happen if we ever married.’’ “It wouldn’t bo machine-made blisi, anyway,” he said. That seemed to interest her; she inspected him earnestly. “Also,” he added, “I thought you desired to take a sportsman’s chances? ’ “I—do. “And I thought you didn't to marry the man you ought to marry.

“That is—true.” “Then you certainly ought not to marry me —but, will you?” “How can I when I don’t —love you.” “You don’t love me because you ought not to on such brief acquaintance. . . . But will you love me, Flavilla?” She looked at him in silence, sitting very still, tho bright hair veiling her cheeks, tho fish's tail curled up against her side.

“Will you ” “I don't know,” she said faintly “Try.” “I—am.

“Shall I help you?” Evidently she had gazed at him long enough; her eyes fell ; her white lingers picked at the seaweed pods. His arm closed around her; nothing stirred but her heart.

“Shall I help you to love me?” he breathed. “Xo —I an; —past help." She raised

her head

"This is all so—so wrong.” she faltered, “that 1 think it must bo right. . . Do you truly love me? . . . Don’t kiss me if you do. . . Now 1 believe you. Lift me; I can’t walk in this fish’s Now set me afloat, please.”

tail. «,

lie lifted her, walked to the waters edge, bent and placed her in the sea. in an i nit ant she had darted from his arms out into the waves, flashing, turning like a silvery salmon. "Are you coming?” she called back to him.

lie did not stir. She swam in a circle and came up beside the rock. After a long, long silence she lifted up both arms; he bent over. Then, very slowly, she drew him clown into the water.

"I am quite sure,” she said, as they sat together at luncheon on the sand-spit which divides Northport Bay from the sparkling waters of Oyster Bay,“that you and I are destined for much trouble when wc marry; hut I Jove you so dearly that 1 don’t care.” "Neither do I,” he said ; “will you have another sandwich?” And, being young and healthy, she took it, and, biting into it, smiled adorably at her lover.