A TYPE-WRITTEN ROMANCE

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 4301, 9 March 1901, Page 5 (Supplement)

A TYPE-WRITTEN ROMANCE

{iiy Harold Wild.) iters had been, a lonely life, an existence wonderfully devoid of brightening influence. For her the “empty-handed years" had come and gone in the same dull, monotonous round, and yet she knew that aw people go, aim must be envied, when, at twenty.five, her r ood fortune arrived. She stood leaning on tlie window-sill, looking out over the expanse of grey slate root's stretching to Hit* human ol grey, smoky London, sky, a seem- so familiar to her, and then glanced down at the blue envelope in her hand with an exclamation that was half a. sigh. Strange, that the i aunt whom she hardly remembered should have still thought about her and left her that, which, not great in itself, still made the diffeienee between a bitter, heartbreaking and precarious existence, and a living, at least somewhat approaching ease, of however humble a character. The first real ray of light in her life. Stay, was it the first? And from the tide of her hidden thoughts u red wave of consciousness swept over her face, and, turning from the window, she put the letter on the table, going over to her typewriter, alongside which lay a 7ille of freshly-typed sheets, which she began to arrange, glnnciifg at her watch during the operation. "lie will he here in a quarter of an hour," she murmured, “shall 1 tell him of my luck;-' I wonder whether he will take an interest,” and a new light danced in her eves. Meanwhile, through the streets of the neighbourhood, Hubert Groves, journalist, trudged towards the same room to call for some work ho had left two days previous. Presumably, bis thoughts should have been concerning that work, but they were tixed just then on a pale, sweet face above which waved a mass of golden brown hair, lie had known her for nearly six months, a directory having bren his medium of discovery, and, during that time, he had often taken her his MS to type. He had never employed anyone else since, and know that ho never could do so, for he was awake to the fact that now that face was to him the dearest in the world, though no word of love had been spoken between, them. And yet, how_ dare he—a poor, struggling journalist, think of love, it was a hard battle to keep himself, how could he possibly earn, tbe wherewithal for two people? No, he had decided after a hitter struggle—for a fin do siecle young man he was very quixotic in his ideas of honour —he must set his face against it all, and it was with a firm resolve, hardening, though it wounded his heart, that lie mounted the stairs to the two rooms which formed the abode of Evelyn Norman. She opened the door to him, and he glanced once at her and then round the room. How well he knew it, the plain, though tastefully furnished apartment, the homo of a cultured woman who worked hard for the scanty necessities of life. “Good evening, Mr Groves,’' she said, “your work is ready.” “Thank yon," he replied coldly, his voice hard with‘his late .resolve. “I am glad of that, it is important, and 1 want to send ■ it away to-night." She winced involuntarily at his tone, and the blush that had crept to her cheeks at his arrival gave place to a paleness more than usual. Quietly, though her nerves were at a tension with the though! that certain vague anticipations would 1 never have any realisation, she gathered the sheets together, telling him the number of words, and then handed them over for examination.

"Thanks/' he said, "you certainly have typed this stuff nicely. Your work always looks well, and though a typewriting much ine is supposed to possess no individuality, you certainly manipulate yours in a style finite your own. And, do you know, the ornamental line at the end is decidedly unique. It must have taken you some time ,to discover the combination of letters and characters to compose that design.''

He talked hurriedly, with a forced flippancy, and smiled in a set manner, the coldness showing more and more in his tone ns he felt the effort to keep it up

becoming greater. His companion answered quietly, though with a faint quivei in her voice. "Yes, I believe it is rather novel. I have never seen the same design oji other copy.’' Then there was a silence in the room whilst he placed the papers in a large envelope, and then cojmted the sum she had charged him on to the table. She receipted the account and handed it to him still silent.

Ho took np his hat and stick, and. holding out his hand, said hurriedly, ‘ Goodbye, Miss Norman, I hope to bring some more copy round in a day or two, and er—” he stopped in a confused manner, for his voice was scarcely under control, but she brought him/ back to his senses quickly.

"Thank you,’,’ she said quietly hut frigidly, and turned away without appearin' to notice his still outstretched hand, loj duo instant he gazed at her averted face and then strode quickly to the door and gone. And she, when the last echo of his footsteps died away, flung herself into « chair and covered her face with her hands, whilst the hot tears trickled through hei fingers, and the blue envelope lay disregarded on the table. *****

The sub-editor of the new magazine, "The Regent." sat back in his chair, gazing abstractedly into the wreaths of smokr as they floated upwards from his pipe. A small pile of MSS, which he had brought home to look through, for they were busy at the office, lay unheeded on the table at his elbow. He was thinking, and doing so, sighed, for his thoughts had flown back some ■eighteen months to a time when he was a struggling journalist, just before the ofle; had been made to him of the post he now occupied. He was thinking of a day when flushed with joy at his unexpected good fortune, he had rushed off to a certain street, and mounted the steps to a certain set of rooms, some copy in his hand, a very bald excuse, his heart heating as he knocked at the well-known door.

But nobody had answered that knock and with all his high spirits strangely depressed he had waited for a short time, and then made inquiries of the housekeeper below, only to be informed that th-ou-ner of those rooms had departed the week Before and left no address. He let” the place, feeling that nearly all tho pleasure he had experienced was taken awoand from that day to this he had never sei eyes on the girl whom he had grown to love. But he had never forgotten her, and this night his thoughts were concern ing her. At last, after a deeper sigh thai heretofore, he knocked out the ashes of his pipe and turned to the perusal of tht M.S. on the table.

He merely glanced at the opening pageof tho first two effusions, and then, with a. shako of his head, which would havr caused suicidal thoughts to have run through the minds of their respective autli ors, lie pencilled a line or two on a paper accompanving each, and laid them aside. The third one he took up with an ail which plainly showed he expected nothin; better than before, commenced to peruse it, and, as his eye travelled down the page, his expression changed, and a loot of interest appeared, which deepened ar he read. . .. .

"By Jove!” he muttered, "that is a fine description, and I am blessed, it it is not somehow familiar. Where have I seen a room like that?” He laid fhe MS down, and filled Ills pip- -

afresh, then, as if an inspiration came tc him in the smoke, like the genii oni the Arabian shore, his face flushed, and. put ting down his pipe quickly, he again too 1 up the MS. and hurriedly turning over tho typed pages, looked eagerly at the end. There was a finish line, the design of which caused his heart to beat fast, for be recognised it. Then he turned bac 1 to find the author’s name and address. 'Hie first was evidently a nom de plume but, thank goodness, the address was all right, a street in a respectable neighbour hood in Chelsea. "It must be.” he mattered to himself, with, his pulses beating like drum taps. He

glanced at his watch, nearly eight o clock It would not take him long to reach thr address given. .Would it be altogether the thing to call at this late hour? Anyhyow. he would risk it.

With feverish baste ho put on his great coat and hat, and. placing the MS. in bis ; breast pocket, left the house ami walked ; out into the clear April night. Contrary 1 to his usual rule ho hailed the first hansom he saw, and in twenty minutes’ time was set down opposite nis destination.

And then a feeling of cowardice seemed to affect him, and he hesitated to ring. It is should be a wild goose chase after all. At last lie mustered up courage and pulled the bell. A pleasant-faced, elderly woman answered the door, and looked at him inquiringly. “Hoes Miss - live here, please?” he asked, using the nom de plume.

; ‘No, sir," answered the woman, “there is nobody of that name here.’’ Ho then stammered out. “Perhaps she goes under —er —that is—her real name—well, yon know, does Miss Norman Jive here?" he asked, finished at last with an effort.

“Yea," replied the other, looking rather suspiciously at him. “Hid you wish to see her?”

“Ye-es, if you will please say that a friend wishes to sqeak with her. I have forgotten ray card. Yop need not give my name, but I want to see her particularly.” And perhaps it was something in Groves’s tone that caused the woman to admit him into the hall without further speech. He gazed quickly round, noticing tiie air of ease and comfort that bung about the place, the thought Hashing through his mind that if this was Mias Norman’s abode brighter days must have dawned for her. Tlie landlady, meanwhile, tapped at a door on the right of the entrance, and. in response to a “Come in!” uttered in a voice that made Groves’s heart bent more quickly than ever, she turned the handle, and. looking in, said, “A gentleman to see you. Miss.” “A gentleman! to see me?” said the voice from within, and. then, forgetting that be might be intruding forgetting indeed everything except that he wished to see the speaker. Hubert moved past tlie landlady, and came face to face with

a lady, who now stood in the doorway. Thank God, there was no mistake! “Mr Groves?” she said, her face flushing and then going pale. "Yes, Miss Norman,” replied that personage, "may I come in? I knmv this is a rather late hour to call, but when yon think that for nearly two years I have been endeavouring to discover your abode. .1 hope you will not forbid me a few mihntes’ conversation.”

The landlady had withdrawn, so that she had no alternative but to ask him to sit down. "How did you find me out? she asked in a low tone, for her heart was beating almost audibly, she thought. Groves drew the MS. from his pocket, and handed it to her. ... .

"I have the honour, if one likes to give it that name, of being sul>editor of the magazine you sent this to.” She started and glanced hurriedly at it.

"Do you remember me speaking to you about the individuality of your typewriting? I recognised this at once, and also your description of the room, and, in spite of the nom-de-plume, and—er — having some business in Chelsea, I took the liberty of calling at this'address to see whether I could fine something about yon.” , She Blushed, hot! this time, and. noticing it, he gave-her-no time to reply, but continued in a lower and more earnest tone. Another time. Miss Norman, I should like to explain something to you, something about the last time I saw you. Why did you disappear so sunddenly?” Her face was averted as she answered. "I had had a stroke of good fortune, and determined to leave my abode. I—l did not think you would have been interested in knowing where I had gone to.” There was a silence in the room, and then Groves, his voice trembling, said, as he rose and took up.his hat and stick. "It is late now, and I can't very well explain. I will take the MS back with me, and shall now only ask whether I may soon call again. May I?” ■She looked at him once, her face burning, for there was no mistaking the tenderness ii» 2ua glance, then dropped n*r vy» "Yes. if yon care, to/? she murmured, He held her hand in a tight clasp, but

did not speak another word, and soon was gone.

And, as before on Ids departure, she laid her head on the table and wept, but a happv smile glistened through her tears. One evening, a week afterwards, two people walked slowly across the park, which lay beautiful in the freshness of the budding spring, and the man whispered to the happy looking woman at his side. 1 have taken everything very much for (Wanted Evelyn, for it is certain there have been plenty of others besides myself. You must think me ternoly conceited. She looked at him with a sweet side “Tire re may have been others, perhaps as far as you know,” she answered, half mischievioiisly. and then her voice taking a deeper, tenderer tone, she continued: “But I knew they could never have been anything to me.” » And his answer to that satisfied both ot them.