SHORT STORY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13779, 18 June 1908, Page 3

SHORT STORY.

A HEROINE AT LONG BRANCH. "She's glorious!" declared Aubrey Vandcrlyn, who was much given to adjectives and enthusiasm, as eighteen is apt to be. •'Yes," languidly assented Harold Drury, " that point was decided long ago. There's not a woman at Long. Branch to compare with Miss Trevallian—not one!" " Physically,'* interpolated little Teddy Miller, who was the best waitzer at the Branch, end as light of head as he was of foot: *T agree with you there. But as"' for the- finer qualities which should distinguish a —pshaw! Just look at the life she has led—one of court, adulation, flattery, homage, from her cradle. With beauty, high lineage, and at her command an almost exhaustless fortune, is it likely she is dowered also with unselfishness, or entertains an ambition loftier than a mere social triumph? No, for sheer heartlessness commend me to Miss Trevallian'" And he replaced his cigar between ■ his teeth, with an emphatic nod of bis little cropped head. " Was she heartless to you, Teddy?" Drury asked, with an air of childlike innocence. " Not more than she was to you at Vienna last winter, Drury!" The joke was turned on Harold. He coloured and laughed. •'Well hit, my boy!" good-naturedly; '* but I do not make a tragedy of my illluck." "You're right," avowed Yanderlyn, boyishly suggestive. "Candle? Phew ! she's a whole electric light. Here she is!" There was a stir and murmur on the piazza, and a stampede of the men for chairs and hassocks as Miss Trevallian swept down the hall and out into the August sunset. only one man separated himself from the others at sight of her, and walked rapidly away. He was a tall, splendidly-proportioned young fellow-, clad in icturesque yachting costume. He had a bold, high-held head, well set on broad shoulders, an alert, intelligent face, with clearly chiselled features, a long, tawny moustache, and grey, fearless eyes. A young English baronet he. Sir Eric Glenallyn, " doing" America for the first time, and desperately in love with Edith Trevallian—that, too, after a mere fortnight's acquaintance. lie was very wealthy. The most calumnious could not have accused him of being a fortune-hunter. Just now he was more disturbed by Teddy Miller's disparaging remurks than he would have cared to show. His ideal woman was a wonderfully fair creature. Toddy had voiced the suspicions which had arisen in him, though never—even to himselfhad he clothed them in words. Could one deferred to from infancy with almost slavish submission, reared in the hothouse of fashion, ruling all around her with the sway of a princess, retain a white and generous heart? And yet he loved her dearly—dearly! From afar he watched her as—for the moment alone—she stood in the soft light, of tho dying day, abstractedly looking away to the westward. Young Vanderlyn's enthusiasm had not been hyperbole. She was u little above the ordinary height of woman, an erect, gracious, well-curved figure. A beautiful face, proud for all its youthfulness. A skin satin-smooth and colourless as a camellia leaf. Blue, luminous, dark-fringed eyes. Sensitive lips, warmly bright, as oleander blossoms. A crown of braided, blue-black hair. She was dressed for dinner in trailing draperies of dusky lace, at her ears sparks of flame, on her hands gleaming jewels, at her low-cut corsage a great cluster of jacqueminots. " Drury's nth-ice is good," murmured Glenallvn. "Keep out of the flame—l'll do it!" " ■ / And he immediately tested, the strength of his resolution by walking straight up to Miss Trevallian and followed her like a very substantial shadow for the rest of the evening. The next, morning broke sunless and leaden-skied. Quite a heavy sea was rolling unci few ventured down to tho beach. Among those who did, however, was Edith Trevallian. She. swam well, and enjoyed thoroughly her daily baitlo with old Neptune. To-day she remained so long she began to feel fatigued. She was on the. point of. returning when over the boom of the waves and ■tumult of the bathers ontrang a woman's shrill voice in frantic terror. "My baby—oh, my baby!" Edith was a good distance out, but the child had been swept still farther before it was missed. She caught » glimpse of a familiar pink-and-whilo "bathing-dress. It was a child of one of the servants of the hotel. "A rope!" she shouted. Quick as lightning- one flew to her across the water. In fin instant pandemonium reigned—uproar, shrieks, confusion. Few there could swim suffieieniiy well to ■venture out in such « strong sea. and by the fiine they had provided themselves with ropes and struck out Miss Trevallian was already near the child. I Tito feat would not have been so arduous had she not been very tired when the summons had come. Now every long, swift stroke was arduous labour. '* Who is she'.-" someone yelled. "Miss Trevallian!" cried an answering Toiee in the crowd. "She is all right.!" proclaimed another. "She can swim like a fob." A— cheer went up from the rapidlyincreasing crowd on the beach as she grasped . the child's dress. II was saved! Those who had been coming to her aid turned back. The child was saved. They did not dream the brave rescuer could need their help. , She slipped the noose around the small body and tightened it. Then a dizzy faintness swept over her. The rope slipped from her hold. They began to draw it in. A man farther up the shore—a new arrivalwas the first to discover the blunder. He came rushing down like a madman, tearing off coat and boots, forcing a path through tho now dense multitude. He plunged into the greenish surf. A dozen, seeing bis object, followed his example. Ho exhausted was Miss Trevallian it was with a. tremendous effort she kept afloat. Ho reached her first. He wound, his. left arm about her, and with Iris rigid struck out for land. After a while she became a dead weight. She had fainted. When lie lifted her in his arms and strode no the beach, the beautiful face upon his fhoukler looked awfully deathlike. The evening was chilly, so a bright, tire burned in the grace Very cosy indeed looked Miss Trevallian's'room, with its soft, deep rugs, and ruby chairs, and open piano, and gaslight, and" wax-light, and roses. And very, very fair to see was Miss Trevallian herself. She lay on a lounge drawn up beside the fire. The folds of her snowy negligee, all cashmere and costly lace, swept the floor. Her dark, unbound hair fell over her shoulders in wavy masses. A slight, pallor was the only apparent, result of the morning's episode. She started erect as the door was flung suddenly wide, formality forgotten in excitement. A gentleman in evening dress came swiftly across the room. He knelt down beside her and caught her hand in his. " I have only just learned that I might see you. Oh, forgive me!" he cried. "Forgive you!" she faltered. "You saved my life— "Don't!" he pleaded, with a sob of pain. "You don't understand. Wait till I have told you." He did not spare himself. He told her all —how he had distrusted her, beaten back his love for her. When he had quite finished, she spoke: " How is the child?" " Better. They think he will live." A smile of content lit her prcrud face. He rose, and stood staring at ner a trifle dazedly. Was his fault too great for pardon. He said to himself that her forgiveness was all he asked. He was utterly hopeless. When sho had thus absolved him he would go away. . "You have not forgiven me, he reminded her. "You blamed me.' She stretched out her hand to him. " There is one person whom one needs not to forgive, and whom ono can never blame." she said. "Yes— one loves," lie answered sadly. ' "Well, Eric!" He started as though electrified. He clasped her hand in his with a quick catching of his breath. "You mean it, Edith!" She answered him, smiling: "i mean it. How stupid you are!