AN OLD LOVE AFFAIR.

Hastings Standard, Volume XIII, Issue 4310, 13 November 1909, Page 3 (Supplement)

AN OLD LOVE AFFAIR.

They had been engaged for many years. He uas poor, very poor, and now he knew he could never be rich. She knew that youth had gone, and that if she ever married it would mean the d re-t eronomy—in fact, an hourly pinch for bread and cheese. Freddie oiimoiir was 3-j and Hugh Halston 50. Year; and years ago they had had a love-affair, and had become engaged; and then becanse Captain and Mrs. Gilmour had opposed the marriage tooth and nail, and'had screamed, ana in the language of schoolboys cursed at.d been in a bait, the lovers had stuck to it—in fact, it- had become the religion of their two dull lives. Freddie Lad been rather pretty when quit young. She had had a rose-like complexion, and her eyes had been blue and quite clear. Nov." her pretty looks had disappeared, streaks of early grey had com;- into the once attractive auburn hair, the gold had gone.and her viator yon cold days. The lisp remainexes had grown teo prominent and v,oaten- on cold days. The lisp remained. it is true, but who cares lor a lisp after the first blush of youth? And Hugh had changed too. He was bald in places, and had become pompous and long-windid. and had grown bitter with failure. He still worked in a Government offce; but he realised that nothing bright or gay 'ay before him. Ho iiacl given up parties, given up society. nrove in motor-'buses, and now came down regularly eve.y fortnight to see his finances. Mrs. Gilmour, a petulant old lady, tor the last seven years had allowed this. It was never likely to be anything but an engagement. Of course it was a Jolly, but for peace's sake the engagement was acknowledged. There had been war, persecution, and parental fury: now these were passed, and as tbo captain was dead there was nothing else to bo said but that it was foolish, and had been foolish since the year one] end would remain foolish until the end of time

Freddie lived with her mother in a cottage outside Richmnd Park. The modest residence liarl been left Mrs. Gilmour by an aunt. The means of mother ;iml daught'-r were small, for Harding Court and the town-house had both been le'lt to Charlie, the only son ; but the two women lived in a careful v ay, gave a few tea-parties it is true m the year to friends, and occasionally received a few relations from London": but ojtherwishe saw little of the world end Knew few of their neighbours. that the lovers took a walk. The rotten leaves lay thick upon the ground in I?ichmoid Park; alone a few chrysanthemums glimmered in ;;oaking parterres in tho gardens with sodden cob webs hanging round them. "It's miserable being out.'' said Freddie drearily to Hugh, and he walked beside rer.

Hugh did not attend to his fiancee—in fact, he hardly heard her. He had grown rather deaf, was preoccupied, and was talking loudly of some old grievance—a quarrel'with his chief, the preferment of a younger man. and his n< glected appeal ior higher pay. _ U ithout a word Freddie walked on in silence i v hi> side. It struck her that Hugh's voice was harsh and unmelodious and she noticed that his hair was ouite grey. Then suddenly she became aware that lie pudxd against her almost roughly as he walked, and his manner and b-aring were careless, to bay the least.

She suggested that they should keep to a higher path 011 account of the moisture underfoot. "I have thin bootr>." pleaded; but Hugh took no notice. Then Freddie repeated her remarks as thev plunged down a s. dden walk, and the wet from the trees fell upon them in showers as they moved; but Hugh was immersed in his grievances, end took no lie d of his love's discomforts. He talked unceasingly, bitter ly. repeated himself and gave her no time to answer.

What a bore anyboly can become "who recounts their sorrow for the hundredth time And Hugh's was a stupid sorrow at best. A iresh grief is well enough, but an old sorrow hammered out is like a haekneved quotation or the echoes of the opera on_a worn gramophone—intolerable. Yes, it was very tiresome. Freddie remembered the quarrel between Hugh and his chief. It was 10 years old at least. How it had fired her in old day.-;! How she, had gone through it ix>int by point! She had recalled "it wearily, the letter to the M.P., the Minister's courteous but guarded answer, the abuse, the ridicule, and thenthe oblivion. They were all familiar to her. Xow they all belonged to the last century, and decent- burial was all slio begged for them. Certainly 111011 had no tact. It was with souping feet and a bespattered skirt that Freddie regained he;- mother's house. "Had a p!ea=a:it walk?'' asked the invalid with malice. 'Tt is one of the things at least that I can bo thankful for in growing old. I need not go out on vet davs."'

Fred lie sat down a::d tried tr> cheer her mother, but Mrs. Gilmour was in the dumps. "My dear, it is all very well for you." sho said; "you have a lurer and then I suppose the sun alv.-avs shines Now I " Hut Freddie w:mld not hear more, she took up a novel and began to read to her mother al tid. After five minutes Mrs. Gilmour yav.rel. "1 cannot stand these modern books that vou pet down from the library. Love in small print, doubt-, and women's aspirations, that is what you call it now. I think:"" and Mrs-. Gilmour laughed spitefully. Freddie did not :in= wer but went on reading. A little later Mrs. Gilmour''s head fell back upon some cushions. In a little time she was asleep. Freddie would have gone on reading, hut Hugh strode across the room. "My dear, read this." he said authoritatively. ' T am stilting my ennft to Henderson. You know he is in our office now.'" '"Had you not better leave matters r.lone. Hugh?" said Freddie gently. "Mr. Henderson never was a friend of yours." "What has that to do with it? So like a woman tr> mix up friendship and pub!ie business!" exclaimed Hugh im-

patiently. "I do not think that he will do anything for you " "I don't want favour ; 1 want recognition."

'"You forget, Hugh, that Mr. Henderson has only just been appointed,"

Then Hugh got excited. He abused I bis chief, abused the office, called his I colleagues names ; and at last, in a fit of temper, told Freddie that she did not take care of him, that she took no interest in his concerns, and all the while be got crimson in the faeo and looked. I it must be confessed, little short of [ ridiculous. Hugh's lend tones at last awoke Mrs. Gilmour. ' What is ali this? she asked. "Hugh's grievance," tajd Freddie wearily. "Then. I wish he would keep it to himself. lam quite tired of Hugh's grievance. He never seems to me to liave anything else." Freddie at any other time would have let the matter pass, knowing that her mother was difficult, and hated war; but to-day she was angry t-ooi with her lover, and che too turned and fizzed, as childien .say. "Cannot you leave things alone, Hugh? You will only stir up old disagreeables for nothing, and get into fresh hot-water." T will let- Henderson know what I think of that- beast Jack-on."' . "Ma mma must have her nap before dinner." raid Freddie, and got up. At this Hugh glared and then went off, banging the- door behind him. * * * « It was after tea, when Mrs. Gilmonihad "gone off to her bedroom, that Freddie ard Hugh, in schoolboy parlance, bad it- out. She. told him that it was a mistake not to let sleeping dogs lie. that no good would come by stirring up the mud of the past. But he would not take her advice. He was a"ng:v—riled, to ns:e his own expression—that she ceased to sympathise with him, or, as he called' it, took no interest in his own concerns. And she was tired .bored, and longed to be free The French have a bitter-old saying que tout easse memo la loyauto; and Freddie felt that her love was worn-out, that her old engagement was a mistake, and at last her patience gave way. "i can't bear it any longer," she said. "It must all end. Our engagement lias been foolish." ~ I

At this Hugh caught fire abused her roundly, said that- he might have done better, that there was a widow with means, and that he had lost- everything by caring for her. Then they parted. He fled from the hous© by the first train on the followinpr morning. And Freddie cried; but then came peace, for her old love seemed really dead. At first she missed his letteis and the occupation of answering his letters, but aft-»r a little while she threw herself into church work—mothered orphans, arranged the flowers in a church on Saturdays, embroidered banners. and the recollection of Hutdi faded.

A little later there came a widower, a retired banker with a big house near, and the possessor of four little fat dogs] and he gradually acquired an influence over her. Mr. Sanderson took to coming to tea, and after a while the church work ended, and the orohans mothered themselves, and somebody arranged the flowers for the church, whilst Freddie took to washing and combing the littlei fluffy dogs instead, and suddenly developed an interest in a rockery, and began to talk of plants two "inches by their Latin names.

Then suddenly one day. when her old life and her old engagement with Hugh Halston had become a thing of the past, Freldie got a letter from her former lover It ran: "I have been very, veiy ill. For the love of God, d< ar, do 'come, see me and forgive me:" and it was signed feebly, blurred by a blot. And that was all.

W hen I'reddie shewed Mrs. Gilmour the letter her mother begged her not to go. "\ou had much better write Hugh a nice little letter, and send him some papers : but don't go. You yourself -aid that your engagement was a mistake. Yon have given him up. You must no v.- Remember that if %ou go it will be all over with Mr. Sanderson."' Freddie shook her head.

"\on_dont think it will, but I am sure of it. Remember, if anything happens to me. what your income will be.'" * * * • Freddie did remember, but she determined to go all the same; and she went although hoi- mother said she w;;s a perfect gooso ior doing so, and declared that nobody could expect her to do more than to send some hot-lions© grapes, but that she might send a tin of turtb from the stores if she wished. Freddie went up and found her lover very feeble, much aged, and so weak that he could hardly walk across tiie room to meet her. Later, she called upon his sister, Fanny Delaport, who, alter sounding her well, fell a-crying, and the two women wept together. At last, when Freddie could get in nword, she said between her sobs_, "I want to marry Hugh.'' "Marry him! But he is too ill." "But I would be his ncris?. OnTv help me, Fanny, and then I would do everything for him." And Fanny who was romantic, and lif-r friends said not too wise, got a clergyman to come, and got a special licence, and the two were married. After this Freddie declared herself rapturously happy. Night and dav she nursed Hugh, anrl at last got him on his legs again And now she tells all her friends thai she was in love all her life with her husband. She has quite forgotten the interlude of coldness—in fact, if von told or reminded her of it she would f;av vou were misinformed, and believe tnat .<he was speaking the truth. And when Mr. Sanderson offered to give her a flufly puppy she scornfully refused it, and declared that some people's impudence knew no bounds. Hugh Hal-s-ton has now become her passion ; and though be has only two stories in the world, slit- never fails to laugh at the right place in each ; and as to the old grievance, she has canonised that by moist eyes every time she hears it recounted.