SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIII, Issue 13368, 24 December 1906, Page 5

SHORT STORY.

A BROKEN* HEART.

"It is only in novels that people die of broken hearts." And Ray Forsythe proceeded to light a cigarette with the greatest deliberation, leaning his handsome bead against the back of the rustic seat in the old arbour, while the blue smoke curled upward in vapoury rings. "And it is exceedingly fortunate, too, 1 say,'' ho went on, "for who would fancy such a way of being taken off?" "Exceedingly fortunate {if true) for May Allaire," sneered a voice at his side, and Chester Percy lounged into the great, roomy arbour, with bis usual languid ease. "Here, give mo a light, Ray," drawing forth a cigar case and selecting a hugo cheroot. "Since you persist in smoking those dainty things at least allow me to

make them useful. Now, apropos of broken hearts, my boy," throwing himself down at full length beside his friend, this is a very good juncture for a word of warning. Don't you think you are getting a little—-just a little—' too, too' in your flirtation with Miss Em ugh am? And you engaged to May Allaire, the sweetest girl on earth!" " Nonsense!" Hay tossed the half-smoked cigarette out into "the grass-plot. It. strove a moment like a red eye, then went out. His friend smiled sardonically. "Just like your love for Miss Allaire," ho commented. You did love her, or thought so, which amounts to the tame thing, I suppose; but the appearance of the dashing belle. Miss Effingham, has quenched poor May's light: and well—to make a long story short—everybody is discussing the flirtation. Ray. I'm not much given to this sort of thing with my friends, exhorting, entreating, and on through the various grades of the imperative mood; but I deviate from my usual course for once, and beg you to pause, before it is too late. You know, Ray, that Helen Effingham doesn't care for you. She is just amusing herself, and there is a rumour current that she has accepted old Claretson, but will not display an engagement ring because it, might spoil her fun. and prevent her bagging any other mime that might come in her wav. She is a natural-born rlirt and coquette. She can no more help indulging in this species of amusement than you can help breathing while you have life. So, as I was about to observe, you cannot possibly affect Miss E cling hero's future in any serious way. Once drip this affair, • and I'll wager my head she will forget you in two weeks' time. Bur if you continue in your present course I do not know —I tremble for Miss Allaire! I beg your pardon, old fellow, if I have offended you. My advice, though uncalled for, is well meant." Ray laughed a low. musical laugh. "One would think, to hear your sermon, Chester, that I had been committing murder, at least. Why,, I've only been flirting a little, in the most: innocent and harmless way. with a woman whose heart is triple shielded by an impenetrable coat of mail. As for May—dear little thing!—you are quite mistaken there, Chester. Ido love her with all my heart, and she is not foolish enough to mind a harmless flirtation." " Suppose she imitates your example." suggested Chester Percy, slyly. " It's a poor rule that will not work both ways, and she ought to inaugurate a flirtation with someone just to pay you off." Ray sprang to his feet impetuously, and there was a troubled look upon his dark, handsome face. "She would not do it!"'he cried, hastily. "She would not —she loves me!" " Well, don't let the very idea of such a possibility turn your brain, my friend," observed Chester, calmly. "If 1 were Miss Allaire I would certainly pay you back in your own coin, and flirt with the first eligible who presented, himself. That would be a much wiser course than to mourn your delinquencies." | : ..- ' But Ray had . dashed away from the arbour, and was out. of sight. Man like, he expected to do as. he might feel incline 1, but with the belief that the woman he loves, had no similar rights. He had scarcely left the arbour when he came face to face with Helen Effingham, a stylish brunette, in white lawn and scarlet ribbons; for it was in the soft summer weather.

There were half a dozen guests gathered hero at Mrs. Allaire's »or a few weeks' recreation As Ray drew near the coquette started, as though she had not known of his proximity. - "• "•'• : ' ' '•' ' "• ■"■';■ ■

"Dear me, Mr. Forsythe!" she cried, languidly, "where have you been hiding yourself? Everybody is searching for you, and Miss Allaire is ready to cry because you can't bo found." She neglected to say that she had been standing near the arbour, and had listened deliberate!v to every word that had passed between Ray and his friend. And she ground her white teeth together viciously as she registered a vow that h». should low her though she crushed May Allaire's heart, and ruined her whole life. Yet Helen Effingham did not care for this man; it was only a coquette's thirst for conquest. She laid her hand upon his arm nowher little white, unjewellod hand (for old Clarkson's ring was hidden away in her jewel casket), and together they paced up and down the walks in the gold and purple glory of the sunset. And here May Allaire found them— pretty, fair-haired, delicate May, whose highly-strung, sensitive nature was susceptible of the slightest change in her lover's demeanour. She made no comments, and the evening wore away. But from that hour Helen Effingham redoubled her exertions to win Ray Forsythe'* heart, just for the pleasure and triumph of casting it away. And one evening, down in that same rustic arbour, sho sat at his side, knowing that not far distant, under a drooping elm tree, May Allaire sat with a took of poems before her, and could not fail to overhear the purport of their conversation. Miss Effingham's dusky head drooped to the young man's shoulder. "I am going away," she said, softly. Oh, Mr. Forsythe, it is so hard to teatone's self away from those we love!" Ray was tempted to inquire if she referred to old Olarkson, but he desisted, and the went on, seductively: " Tell me, Mr. Forsythe, will you miss uie when T am gone?" She had not the slightest idea of going, and Ray more than half-suspected it bur, all the same, he answered, warmly : "Miss you? Oh, my darling! What will life be without vou?" And he seized the lovely white hands and crushed them passionately against his lips. . Helen! Helen!" he 'panted. "Tell mc, that you do love me & little—that vou will give me some hope!" Her eves drooped to conceal her triumph. "I—love you!" -she faltered, timidly, "and— ! great heavens! What is that?" For a wild cry had rent the air, a cry which seemed to come from the very depths of a breaking heart. The two guilty creatures dashed from the arbour, and Helen led the way instinctively to May Allaire. She was sitting upon a rustic seat with an open book upon her knee. One white hand was pressed against her heart; her pallid face, bent over the open volume, was ser and still; the lovely eves were staring and vacant. She was dead! "Heart disease,'." pronounced the old family physician, but there were those who knew that May Allaire's heart had been broken. Ray Forsythe wanders about the world a homeless, loveless man, remorseful and repentant, but alas! too late. Helen Effingham married old C'larkson, the millionaire, and reigns a heartless queen of fashion to-day. But Ray will never forget the lines upon which the dead trirl's eyes had been resting when death found her. It was the sweet poem of "Elaine," and these were the lines: — Sweet is true love, though given in vain, in vain: And sweet is death, who puts an end to pain. I know not which is sweeter— not I !