HOW ANNABEL WAS CONQUERED

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1628, 13 May 1903, Page 7

HOW ANNABEL WAS CONQUERED

Annabel Crane had spent just one week at the home of her recently married sister when she announced herself .thoroughly disillusioned and rid forever of romantic girlish dreams. “Never,” she announced emphaticaby. “will I permit myself to fall in love, no matter how knightly the man* who pleads for my hand. I can see just what it all comes to. Why. Plora, you and Ralph are. just like any ordinary married couple!” “Well, why shouldn’t we be? How did you expect to find us?” “Happier than any other two people in the world! You were before you were married. I never saw such an ecstatic pair.” “Well, aren’t we still happy?” The girl sighed in despair, “If that’s what you call .felicity you are welcome to it.* For my part, I’ve done “with dreams. Somehow I counted on you and Ralph to prove the beautiful exception and thereby save my rosy ideals from complete destruction. But I see I have hoped in vain. Henceforth for me mankind is blotted from life’s list of attractions.”

The sister laughed in sheer amusement to see a face of such blossom witchery so overcast. “Foolish age of 19!” she cried. “How much it demands, how soon it despairs 1”

.Then she sighed a little. “People soon learn to „give up their youthful notions of love and life,” she mused aloud. “This age is too practical to permit of romancing. ‘ Somehow we women learn to be-con-tented.”

“But you’re not contented.” was the bitter retort. “I can see it. For my part I prefer single blessedness to wedded hum drum ness.” The sister laughed again. “You’ll

change vour mind, dear. Girls always do.”

“Not- I.” declared Annabel. - Time proved that she meant it. Ralph’s particular friend, Craig Holman, was calling often at the house, but the girl remained stubbornly indifferent to his attentions.

Craig was as thoroughly attractive a young man as any woman would wish to meet. “Just the type for Annabel," the sister said. “It’s a problem to me that she cannot like him.” Both she and her husband were heartily sorry for the young fellow, who was making a brave fight for the affections of Annabel. If he was disheartened he did not show it, but repeated the attack in spite of unmerciful rebuffs. There remained only two more days before the girl’s visit would end. “Aren’t you asnamed!” reproached her sister. “He wants to see you alone and you still refuse. Annabel; what evil spirit has taken possession of you?” “Have you forgotten our talk. Flora?” “But you surely. couldn’t have meant it! Aon’ are too sensible a girl for that.” “That’s just it. I’m sensible and I purpose to remain sensible.’’ That very afternoon she sat crocheting by the French, window in the sitting room when her sister called suddenly: '“Here he comes, Annabel. Now do please him, just this once.” “Tell him,” commanded the girl, as the door bell rang, “that I am not at home.” But her sister had other plans, bhe did not usher young Holman into the parlour this time. “Come this way,” she said sweetly. "Annabel is at her crocheting again, but you won’t object to that I am sure.” Then, pushing aside the portieres: "Mr Holman has called to see you. Annabel, and •”

She paused in consternation. No Annabel sat by' the window. Instead the very air seemed to quiver with the suggestion of precipitate flight. Something else quivered, too—the rocker where she had been sitting. And then oh, tell-tale evidence. There lay her ball of rose-coloured worsted, wrigg_ gliug and rolling on th© floor apparently unwinding itself by a peculiarly automatic process of its own ! Holman's crestfallen countenance betrayed swift amusement as he caught eight of the restless pink ball and the tremulous rosy thread that extended from it through the window. His glanee met that of Annabel's sister. He read challenge in it. “This will guide me," he said with a flashing smile, as stooping he picked UP the agitated ball of yarn. He held it securely, conscious that some oh© was pulling at the other end. Still smiling he stepped from the window out upon the verandah and thenc© across the lawn.

Annabel glanced up. indignantly as he entered the grape arbor. "How dare you follow me," she demanded. Her face was rosier than the fluffy pink thing she was crocheting. Holman held the worsted out toward her. “I couldn't help it," he said, “you were drawing me." . He forced her eyes to meet his. Then, in a moment, the anger left her face. Holman sat down by her. “Annabel. • —l’m going to say it. You listen . I love "you —love you—love .Y° u -” Again his eyes drew hers. Somehow in that instant, the humdrum experience of Ralph and Tlora receded into the vaguest distance. .. A grape arbor is. after all. a very enchanting place, especially m mellow autumn time. Annabel was peculiarly conscious of this enchantment now. Craig's glowing face was very near her own. His eyes were so compelling'. And

his enfolding arms—but that was after* wards! . Annabel was radiantly happy. Their experience was going to be the beautiful exception.