Short Story

Lake County Press, Issue 2390, 24 August 1911, Page 7

Short Story

THE ONE—AND THE OTHER. As he travelled down in the train, ho found himself dreading tho interview more c and more, as station aft.er station brought , him nearer to his destination. i It would have been different if ho bud j known her ; even then, it was no cheerful duty to be the bearer of a man's dying mes- , sage to his wife, to tell how he pas-sod his last { hours. ' It's no congenial task, with the womau % an utter stranger to me, and the certainty ; that there will be a scene. Of course, j the circumstances justify ono. Poor little soul!' ; Different sentences floated now and then across his memory, scraps that Melville had | readout to him when they were smoking their pipes under the African sky. j ' She is a darling far too good for { me,' he invariably roneluded, as he care- l fully replaced the last letter in its envelope, j and the latter in his left breast-pocket—-next his heart, as the lady novelist puts it. j Within a week of their acquaintance j Trevelyan would have betted ten to one that , whenever the other was alone he was reading j his wife's letters. From the day that. Trevo- , lyan cut through the brain of a Boer who was ( making short work of Melville, they became j firm friends. Melville was a communicative man, and j after a few weeks Trevelyan was tolerably ; conversant with his family history, and the fact of his marriage with his cousin ( They had loved each other from early child • ] hood. | None of her photographs did her justice. What photographs do in a lover's judgment? j Those that Trevelyan saw revealed a pretty, jaughing face, with mischievous eyes and fluffy light hair, loosely held up with combs and silver daggers. ' I gave her those things. They are real c Indian work, and she always Swears them,' the husband said once, when Trevelyan remarked they looked rather heavy One can t seldom form a definite opinion from a mere j .portrait, ho was prepared to find Mrs. Melville tall and slight, or of middlo height and t rather pl|pnp. Her husband Lad described .her as perfection simply, the exact height a iwoinan ought to be, a combination of tho ? WV«.nus de Medici and the Venus de Milo j I Three hours in a railway-carriage on a t frosty day will make the strongest man feel cramped and cold, despite rugs and foot-warmers. After Africa, Trevelyan , thought ho was enduring Arctic severities, j <md "he sighed with relief when the train reached his station. ( ' Glad to see you,' said his host, an old £ Dxford friend. ' Sorry not to have met you, but lam a martyr to neuralgia, and an east j ■wind gives mo an agonising attack.' , During dinner, Trevelyan asked him if he [ JWnew Mrs. Melville. ( i» ' There isn't a soul for miles round who doesn't. s,The St. Heliers are one of the j iildest families in these parts.' t ; ' I met Melvillo in the Transvaal. Hapipeued to be tho only man near the poor 'follow when he died. Ho asked me to give Jhiß last message and his papers to Mrs Melville.' • Guthrie cleared his throat and filled his /jruest's glas3. i ' Awkward, those sort of promises '> ' It's an unpleasant thing to do. There's /bound to bo a scene; and I have not the •faintest idea what Mrs. Melville is like.' f * Eat your dinner, man. You ought to be >avenous after such a journey.' i 'lt sounds abominably unsympathetic, I Icnow,' Trevelyan resumed presently, when j .the dinner was half-way through. " But it Hsn't that. I sincerely pity the poor little ■soul. They worshipped each other, appar- ] lently. Melville was a good sort, and I pro•mised him faithfully to givo her his letters rand things.' ]'/ 'Of course. Of course. I liked the mau <very well. He owned one of tho finest, places , In thecou.uj, quite unencumbered. You can 'jride or drive over to-morrow It is seven ifrom here. You don't mean to say you've ( -given up smoking P' ~ 'Bather not!' Treveljn said, laughing, j thinking how very brusque Guthrie had bepecoxae. Neuralga hftd not sweetened his temper evidently. ' When you've onco ex • < jperienced the want of decent tobacco, you taon't give up the real thing very easily ' , 'I dare say not. Life without smoking .would be intolerable. There's no doubt 'about Melville's being dead, is there?' . Guthrie asked suddenly. 'No melodramatic business, turning up again in the fifth act ':' v ' I saw him buried myself.' :' 'Ah! poor divil! fortune of war, of Poor devil ! pity he didn't stay at ; home. But he was arestiess man.' \ ' I never knew anyone so devoted to his wife.' ' Yes. Well, Madge St. Helier was unusually pretty, and a fascinating little witch into the bargain. She could twist a man round her fingers as easily as I twist this.' There was a snap, and the stem of the wine-glass was broken. \ 'What a pity! Didn't calculate your .strength.' t * Yes ;it was merely an illustration ' ' An illustration?' i 'Of Madge St. Helier's achievements with our impressionable sex.' i Trevelyan laughed. ' 1 remember tho time when you were a veritable Don Quixote.' ' Most of us are fools at some period of our lives. I was no exception.' 'lf a woman possesses beauty and fascination though, she has justification. After all, one has one's pleasure at the time. •The thing is not to let tho other side tinerst.' ' The world's greatest mathematicians have never succeeded in reducing the teuder passion to a science. There ie no fighting with a woman. You never kuow where you are % with them.' Whilst walking up Melville's broad avenue of elms and chestnuts tho next morning, Trevalyan noted that, the grounds were kept in perfect order, -and that tho house, apparently two or throe centuries old, was a fine building in grey stone Guthrie had not exaggerated. A lady, dressed in deep mourning, suddenly emerged from some trees as she passed rouud a bend in tho path. ' Now for it 1' he said to himself ' Hope she won't faint.' She was pale, and her eyes were the saddest he had ever seen. But allowing that heavy black was unbecoming to brunettes, and that sorrow invariably dimmed the brightest beauty, he wondered how both Major Guthrie and her husband could possibly have called Mrs. Melville a beautiful woman. He awaitedher, bareheaded, and introduced himself at once. ' You know Captain Melville r You were with him until—he died? How good of you to como so soon. Tho voice was very sweet, bnt hopelsss and spiritless to a degreo. How she must havo cared 1 to speak like that, he thought. ' Will you not tit down ? Here is a seat; you look so tired. You have some message —his last words? Tho newspapers told us nothing beyond tho barest details And tho letters failed.' ' Your husband told mo so much about von, Mrs. Melville.' He stopped, seeing her flush scarlet, then grow quite white. ' Of course—.yes —I—you wish to see Mrs. Melville ?' 4 ' Aro not yon Mrs. Melvillo?' 'I am Eleanor St. Helier.' He glanced involun'arily at her left hand. There was a signet ring on the third finger. ' Pray forgive me. I did not kno-n Then yonr sister ' 'ls not home. If roiv- will tni-t me with with my brother-in-law's last words, I will deliver them faithfully.'

•Think yon,' He iic.-il.i! .1 :1 lu jili r llt. •Cut [ promised Melville I would give his letters and—bis la-t words—to Mrs Mclvillo herself. If possible, I should like to keep my word. I leave England to-morrow.' ' My sister will not be hero,' bho said in a low voice, not looking 'it him. * 'Perhaps, if she is staying near, I might call upon her?' ho hazarded, prosttit.ly. ' You think mo very tiresome, I am afraid, but one likes to keep one's promise to the dead.' 'To the dead !' she eohoed lifelessly 'Yes. That is true 1 promised also to take care of Madge.' He found himself staring blankly at her, wondering if her manner were due to mere apathy, or whether some shock had stunned her vitality for the time. ' Will you givo mo Mrs Melville's address, Miss St. Holier?' ' I don't know it .'she is abroad I believe.' •Abroad!' ho echoed in his turn 'Oh! I think 1 understand . She has been ill, and the doctor sent her away Poor child ! it must huve half-killed her She is with friends, of course?' ' She is not alone.' 'Then there is only one thing tr> be done I start for Vienna to-morrow, »o I will leave this packet, M-ss St Holier in your charge for Mrs Melville when she returns. It contains his papers and diary. This other represents his valuables IVo large ti units are at the railway-station , they can be scut for at any time.' 'Thank you. I will give them safely to to my sister,' she said, taking the two packets in her hands. There was something strange in the whole thing, he said to himself, when riding back. Melville's death had not long been known in England ' Why didn't you tell me she was abroad ?' he asked, abruptly, of Guthrie at luncheon ' Of whom are you speaking ?' ' Mrs. Melville, of course !' ' Did you see Miss St. Helier ? *I did. But she is most extraordinary. Said she did not kuow her sister's address ' ' Don't suppose she docs.' 1 But what on earth is tho meaning of it all ?'Trevelyan said, irritably ' Don't you know anything, Guthrie?' • Mrs Melville is lion est Her uanie> is now Clarence.' 'What!' ' Went off the day after she heard she was a widow Clarence had been hanging about for some time Liked her before she was married—jilted I believe.' ' Tiie day after waris ? Good 1' ' Directly after Melville left, they used !.o ridy together Poor Eleanor ! She was hohit-broken !' Melville hud better have married the girl I taw—Miss St Holier,' Trovelyau said, musingly. ' J should think ' ' Humph ! Yea But the other was the beauty, you see. They got married by register, en route for tho Continent P»y and by, I suppose, they will come back and turn out Miss St. Helier.' ' And poor Melville thought her an angel. 1 am alad he died under that impression '— ' A. G."P Sykls