A MODERN SWEETHEART.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1211, 17 May 1895, Page 15

A MODERN SWEETHEART.

A GOLF STORY. “ That’s not your wife, surely ?" “ Oh, yes. That is my wife," I replied, fealing heated and angry at my old schoolfellow’s rude utterance. 44 But she’s “ “ Don’t be disrespectful, Harry," I said, with dignity, 44 or our friendship must be broken." “ All right, Frank ; every man to Ins taste —but why did you marry her. You always hated the new woman." “ So I did till a year ago ; but Martha —that’s her fireside name —has converted me." “ Indeed 1" I exclaimed, incredulously ; for Mrs Martha Demain, my friend’s wife, known before marriage as Martha Sprigg, was six feet in height, had feet that required broad sevens to shod them, moved the atmosphere like a hurricane as she swept out of the drawing-room of the old country house at Henley, and had a voice that could not whisper words of love —it was a loud, powerful voice, like an auctioneer’s. “ She’s a fine woman, isn’t she ?" Frank remarked, lighting a cigar between the assertion and the question, and then puffing contentedly, as he gazed in reverie across the richly-hued rug, and the newfangled tiled hearth into the fire. “ Yes —ye-s-s I She is a fine woman,” I answered, scarcely able to repress a laugh. She was altogether too fine for me; and I was amazed that Frank, who was a_ pretty man, fair, petite , with an aristocratic face, and a languid manner, should ally himself for life to a muscular woman with an athletic frame, and dark rugged face, that, notwithstanding its crown of jet-gloss hair, was distinguished rather for determination than for loveliness. “ She’s taken complete possession of me," murmured Frank. “ I’m like a good boy—l never go anywhere without her—and I like the bondage," he added, tenderly, “ because I love her." “ Where did you meet her ?" I asked, noting the touch of real feeling in his voice. (I had been away ranching in America for a couple of years, and did not know the' story of his courtship.) “Oh,, in the most ordinary way," he said, deftly making a smoke-ring over the end of his nose. “ I was paired to play with her in a golf match on the Peak Links. She was quite a stranger—a visitor at Buxton. All I knew about her was that her people were from Manchester : her father was in calico prints. She strode and drove like an Amazon. She alternately terrified and amused me. The caddies, when we stood at the tee, could not keep their impudent faces straight at our disproportion. Marpha—or, as I addressed her at the time —Miss Sprigg, has a sense of the grotesque, too, and as I struggled over the.rough ground, and foozled the drive at the third hole, she gave a sonorous chuckle indicative of suppressed amusement, and I hated her." “ What 1" I ejaculated in surprise. “ I detested her," he continued. 45 Her skill with the driver, her towering form, deep voice, and superiority of manner, made me feel so mean and small. Little did I think that I was destined to worship her." “It must have been a sharp conversion," I hazarded. “It was," he replied, “ a sharp, and dramatic conversion. The ground as you know, is strangely riven in the Peak. Near the far hole the golf course was broken by a stream. A bridge had been flung across the brook for the use of the players; but unfortunately my cleek stroke did not clear it. The ball fell short, and rolled into the water. It was a picturesque river, flowing through the limestone formation, and it was made up of such swift erratic currents that to recover the ball needed sharp work of eye and hand. I was savage and reckless, and in rashly endeavouring to net the ball, overbalanced, and plunged, with a sharp cry, into the current. “ 4 ’E's tumbled i’t’ mine run,’ shouted

the caddie, in dismay, and whirled his arms about like a maniac.

44 Meanwhile, struggle as I might, the brook, which appeared insignificant when viewed from the bank, carried me rapidly away from help. The limestone banks grew higher. I saw the golfers gesticulating above me ; but they were unable to give me succour. The water was icy, and I no longer wondered how it was possible to petrify. I was becoming petrified myself, except in mind. My brain was in a tumult of fear, for now the stream, bearing me on its dark bosom, had entered a strange subterranean gulf, the walls of which were here black as Erebus, there dazzling with spar, or gleaming with lead vein. The air was clammy and yet stifling. A fetid mist hovered on the breast of the underground stream ; and beyond in the recesses of the cave was the surge and roar of water as if it was descending into some abyss." 44 You’re romancing a bit, aren’t you ?" I asked, incredulously. “No ;" he gravely asserted, shuddering at the remembrance of his peril; 44 the cave’s there yet—so is the insidious brook. In the interior of the cavern the stream grew in volume and power, and it whirled me onward in its arctic grasp to what seemed speedy death. The darkness was for a few moments chaotic ; then I noticed to the left a shaft of light, and a grey crag standing, like the King Rock, at Flambro’, out of the foam and spray the rushing torrent made."

44 You caught hold of the stone pinnacle, and were rescued," I blurted out, rudely anticipating the climax. 44 Oh no he said, 44 benumbed with cold, I failed to grasp it, and then 1 swooned." 44 My stars ! this is getting exciting," I burst out. 44 However did you escape ?" 44 1 could not escape —Martha saved me," he said, gently. 44 Never 1" I retorted, in amazement. 44 Oh yes, she did—and that’s why I married her," he continued, after a few tantalising puffs as a lesson in patience. 44 But however did she manage it —to rescue you, not to marry you ?" 44 Oh, with comparative ease, and yet with splendid daring. She knew the country, and the curve of the stream. When she heard the caddie’s cry, she crossed the links swiftly, seized a coil of rope at the leadminer’s hut, and climbed down the chasm till she reached the surface of the brook. At this point the stream had emerged from the cave, and was flowing through the Devil’s Ravine, a gruesome place, associated with many a dark deed and strange tradition. Here, gaining perilous hand-grasp and foothold, she crept, face downwards, on the narrow ledge that jutted from the limestone crag, and waited in suspense. She had not long to wait. A powerless, helpless thing I was swept towards her on the torrent’s breast, and she dragged me, with magnificent strength, upon the ledge. Then, amid the fierce swish of water, and the toss of spray, she placed the rope around me, tied it securely to the sinking rope the mine-master’s gang had thrown, and I was drawn to the brink of the cliff, Martha following, step by step at every pull, to steady my unconscious form." 44 What a splendid woman I" I exclaimed with genuine admiration. 44 Yes ;" he said, 44 it was not difficult to love her after that: but there’s one queer thing about her." 44 What is it ?" I asked, mystified, though I noticed a humorous pucker about the corner of his mouth. 44 When I asked her to marry me she laughed, and said she would, but only on one condition."

“ Well," I said, impatiently, 44 what was the condition ?" 44 That we should be married in a chapel. She had already read the Church of England service for the solemnisation of matrimony; and was prepared to love and cherish me, but said she could not obey a man I” —The Million.

The weekly meeting of the Women’s Democratic Union was held on Friday in the Psychological Society’s room, Ghuznee street, Mrs Tasker (president) in the chair. There was a good attendance of members. A number of new members joined, and 16 others were proposed. Next Friday evening, the 17th inst., will be honorary members’ night, when gentlemen members will be admitted to the meeting, and it is proposed to have a debate,“ Should women be allowed to sit at school committees and vote thereat ? ” Mr Poynton takes the affirmative, and Mrs Tasker the negative. This promises to be a powerful woman’s political society. The Union will meet in the Psychological Society’s room until further notice,