THE AWAKENING OF ROSEMARY.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXVI, Issue 10042, 9 January 1909, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE AWAKENING OF ROSEMARY.

(By Rowland Otey.)

There was just the touch, of coming sprang in tlle air » znd in ooe right, despite fja powder of hoarfrost, the aconiUs oa>J laagtcaDj- turned from mere golden buttons to charming little Bowers, liko tiny (jauaek in raSks «rf freshest green. I talked slowly up a long avenue where the nisei-thrushes called in the high treetops, tad could only feel that all the gladden of their clarion would never again awaken one silent steeper resting in a quiet place across Una sea, with his own mountains for guardian angels. Ha was dead, and the thought would cot leave me. I could only drearily ask myself what meaning lay behind that mystery; why it was that the bright presence that made sunshine had gone from us who were eo much older and sadder. There is always an answer to those awful questions, if we aro but humble enough to js6ten for it; bat just then my rebellions spirit was onTy conscious of the bitter sense of loss. My way of keeping youth is to make a fnend of it; and of all the boys who gather about me, this was the dearest, because I was so persuaded that there was in him a great poet Hearing the triumphant day of full expression. 'Hero seemed something almost insolent in the beauty of the girl who came rapidly towards me, her fox-terriers skirmishing eagerly for a careless caress, very much as°l bad seen the man crowd round about her at a ball, though with this important difference, that there was kindiWvi in her smile to her dogs. Ice soft purple of her short aress, the cap to match over wavy masses of hair, the great bunch of forced danbdtls in her hand, made a lovely scheme of color, sharply outlined against the pale blue sky, scarcely bluer than the eyes that met mine indifferently enough. Yet I think Rosemary liked ma, in the very tepid and uninterested way which was ail she had to spare for women. She cSd not read very often, I suspect, but she knew vaguely that I wrote books, and perhaps, despite her dullness of perception, she may have felt that the novelist in me admired her curious nonchalant charm. She looked so graceful, and her slow Bmfle was so winning that the wisest man might have been caught unawares in the net she always had ready. "I was just coming np to see your mother about the bazaar," I began, taking in all the details, while my heart went on aching' like an accompaniment to my thought. "lib good. She's in town for some charity thing or other; and Fve just heard that exasperating Amy Leigh-Perris has influenza, and- we shall not get to Xice in time for the Carnival. "Haven't you had balls enough in January—half the hunt balls in half the coun ties, and a host of dancers in town?' "Wei!, what can I do down here except go up to the theatre! And I've seen everything. These horrid Etfle places near London are eo stupid. No hunting; and one can't motor for ever." . I looked at her beautiful home, with a gsr&a everybody except herself loved, and «poke again: "I thonghfc you were going to try a new amusement!" Rosemary looked obstinate. I had known her since she was the prettiest posftle baby, and I sometimes said things* If you mean Captain Meyrick, he has pee to East Africa." The look of passionate love an a handKrae face came back to me with other more poignant recollections. "I never inew anyone more cruel for the sheer pleasure of cruelty," I said very hotly. Have yon any feeling, or do you just enjoy the sight of all that pain!" Rosemary was no talker. Hers was wentiaHy a listener's lure, found irresistible in connection with a supremacy in sanies, at which the others looked on with hopeless envy. "I don't see how it all matters to yon, or why you trouble about other people's afuirs.' "It does matter to me. I have a little pity, and I hate the way yon behave." I

really believe Rosemary found my plain speech had piquancy, if only as a change. "They are all so aSy, and so exactly alike," she went oil in her immoved soft Ytnce> not as if making an excuse, bat is if stating an indisputable fact. "I don't do anything." "If yoa do nothing, who broke off "Aline Beaumont's engagement!" Rosemary had not enough imagination for ready falsehood, and often, therefore, fifcndered into truth-telling. "They weren't rally engaged ; Mr Vansittart told me so himself. And look what a little dowdy thing she ie." "Quite true; but she plays magnificently." "L»h, that! But I don't think men rally cars about that sort of'thing." This was the truth again. Even g2niu3 has scarcely a - chance against definite beauty and ability to knock a ball somewfcere.' "If Philip Vansittart told yon he was not bound in honor, he is as bad as you are. Only that pitiful small creature won't shed one tear the less on that account. She is positively ill now. I met her walking up the vmage looking so pale and miserable that I simply longed to get a chance to tell him what 1 thought of him." "Well, if yoa win know, I've refmed Mm. Of course, I never meant " "Yon never do mean, but things happen all the same." The girl looked so lovely in her wilfulness that I felt glad that Philip Vansittart should! get ius deserts, thoughjt_was more than unjust that this rnScfnefma&er should, as nsoal, go scot-free. Was she whoHy impervious? The brilliant barrister, then, had had no more success than Captain Meyrick, with more deeds than wordis to plead for him. A blackbird burst into song in a tree quite near, and hi love music gave me an idea. "Your successes, we all know, have been numerous enough. lately. How do you feel when yoa fail!" I questioned sharp. "I don't know." "Is that quite true, Rosemary. Think back." Her face was an inexpressive mask. Stupidity often a cunning of its own in keeping secrets. But presently there was a of jest. '*l suppose you mean that young Frenchman, you took about everywhere, and said he was so rich and so clever, and might have a title, and all tha rest of it. I don't- believe he ■was clever; and you know I cant bear foreigners." "I should have thought you were much too ignorant of them to have an opinion. I suppose you mean a compliment when you say he did not look as if ho had orams because he wore the right clothes Md was good at tennis. Would you like to know what fce thought of you the firsttime he met you!" Thero was no mistaking the eager look then. Rosemary took a genuine interestin her precious self at least-. "He merely said he was sure to get a dance with you because he was the only man who would not care for it, and thatyour eyes were tike two turquoise stones." Something I failed to read crept into them. "He's coming back for the eesscn, isn't he! He said he liked Xondon so much that ho should be here again in April, and perhaps play polo. I wonder if he really could ride. I saw him atRanelagh when Giptain Meyrick was playin; in the inter-regimentals, and he seemed to have no eyre for anything but tha ponies. I believe he came on the Hoifcertoos" coach. Viae Horberton was on the lawn in a hat from some sale in Bayswater." I had to stop her; it jarred too roughljr. "He will never come to England again." "Not—not because of me!' The words *ere almost whispered. Art organ in the distance mocked me with a slow waltz, and I remembered X bad seen them dancing it together, the embodiments of supple youth and yielding pace. The very air of that summer night*as full of magic, but I bad felt that this hard, -petty-natured Circe had no fewer over the heart -great enough to be safeguarded by a grande passion, to have fitmz its ail in vain at the feet of an ideal, and nevw to have regretted the sturrenie sacrifice. I thought- of_ the splendid intellect-, the work half finished, tie starry ambitions and lofty dreams. Lires from "Adonais" floated through _my brain, dalling for one instant the stingiest sense of less, and then I broke out: ''He never thought of you for a single moment; you were altogether beneath bin. You power ie not inimitable be-

. causa yon think yen ihave spoilt Aline'i life. Yon need not be so proud of thai feat. She was an easy victim, -because she was foolish enough to believe in faith fulness and goodness-." ; "Oh, what a fuss you make about bo- ', thing. ' I Tseree do understand the way ; yoa talk." ./'Only as long as I talk about yoa, you would listen for ever." Wo had strolled across the park, and, , despite my severity, she leant across the •rate with an unmistakable readiness to linger. There was no denial, and I went on, indignant with myself for noticing the elitter of her hair and the fine texture of her skin in the strong light: 'To go back to the Seymour-Yaneittart affair. ." "Oh, please don't. It's quite done with. He's gone to Monte Carlo. "So as to be ready to join the LeighPerris party at Nice quite naturally." Rosemary patted the only dog that was not clamoring for caresses. "And Captain Meyrick? I really thought you liked him. That he thought so, too, was proclaimed by the fact that no one could understand why hs missed that Indian appointment he might hare had for the asking. Also, he spent much more than be could afford in London, and offended his rich uncle." "You know everything, it seems. Etitj as I said, he is in East Africa. Let him. alone, and talk sbolil your friend. Why isn't he coming back? You might tell him it's going to he a good season, and get him to be in time for the big fancy Ball at Evremond's, in aid of the Heroes' Fund. One reason why I wanted to be off was to get a gown. Suppose I went as a French Marquise—a sort of pink arid mauve Pompadour is rather my idea—wouldn't he like to be my Marquis 1" She was actually trying her smile on me, it seemed. "Lven if he does despise me 60 entirely—though I dare 6ay you only said that because you were cross —he might admit that I can dance, and what else matters at a ball!" The thought of a motionless figure, serene among great masses of white flowers, kept me silent for a moment: the solemn beauty one faithful friend had described to me in a few simple words. The wailing of funeral dirges was in my ears; I had a swift vision of silver moonlight touching a name new cut on a white stone. Everything flashed across my inner consciousness with utter clearness of detail, making each trifle bring its own weight of misery. A lark was singing now, a dark Gpeck high above us; and suddenly I knew that what we call tho end had brought me nearer to the future beginning, nearer to that certainty as to the future, with its stranee unearthly sweetness like a strain of distant music. I wanted to he alone and silent, so that my soul might go up to the invisible. But solitude is one of the blessings least easy to command, and here was Rosemary, with her very unusual desire for my company, waiting to be answered, and tucking a straying curl carefully away as she waited. I shrank from telling her. There was a sacred ness about it all. What had she to do with a poet passing "in music cut of 6ight"! Little homely Aline could have eiqnfeitely retold that story to her piano; t':is girl would dismiss him with a conventional word, and only be sorry to be at the trouble of finding another Marquis for the fancy ball. It had. to be done, and my voice was cold and hard in the effort to keep feeling from it, which practice had made no easier. "Be quiet, Rosemary. Maurice Ador is dead." There are always surprises left. I was to have one now. For Rosemary drew herself up, and every atom of color left her charming face. " "You don't mean what you are saying. Yon only want to frighten me," she said slowly. "To frijrhten you ? What do you mean ? There will still" be plenty of partners at ; Evremond's, and plenty of men to sit by : you at Ranelagh and tell you about your- : self—the only thing in the world for which ; you reallv care. I don't want_ ever to i speak of Maurice again to you. You could never understand why. . . . ." : A sound stopped me, the sound of a , stifled sob. She had laid her gclden head . upon the gate, and I could see nothing. W-,. it ™c*;Mo .ho \,,A Wlinrr. after nil.

Was it possible she had leenngs alter all, that she could sympathise with me a little! Tho surprises were not over. My intuition had utterly failed me here. "Are yon quite, quite sure!" The voice trembled. "Am I sure! Rosemary, I have been mourning my boy as yoa will never have to mourn, because rou don't feel. His less to me. . . . There, I've said more than I meant," and I held out my hand for good-bye. And then she lifted her head, and there was a silence fell of curious eloquence between us. For the turquoise stonea were hard no longer, but brimming over with tears—tears in which I told myself, I must be dreaming even to fancy there was an avowal. "Elizabeth," she pleaded—Rosemary a petitioner was as new as all the rest—"say something more. Don't leave me." '"I want to be alone now, Rosemary, to think about- things of which I could not speak to you. We live in different worlds, and you would not care for urine." "But he cared?" How the inflection of that one short word gives away the secrets of the heart. The reality flashed across me, and I asked myself in wonder whether Maurice in heaven had awakened the soul of a woman potent for good as for evil. Miracles do happen, though we keep on forgetting it, and here was one. It might be my work to help to finish what another had begun. I therefore went on, but not in the way I csod with other girls when they told me things, as often did. Here a perfect directness, that would have been merciless with another, was essential. "Rosemarv, it cannot be possible that you loved him!" F-he looked up almost like a startled child. "I don't know, and that seems to make it all the more dreadful." "But- there was never anything between you." For a second a thought- disloyal to the dead, and to his utter confidence in me, intruded, only to vanish. But the sudden confronting with tidings of death had so broken this stubborn spirit that she faltered a kind of confession : "He was so different- from all the rest. He—he never said what they all say, what I can make them say. He seemed as if he was laughing at me all the time, and I used to see him looking at me when I was with Nigel Meyrick in a sort of scornful way. I could not bear it. And then, at- that- ball I kept bim three dances, and he only asked for one, and I was so angry I thought I nated him. And he used to sit and listen to Aline. I heard him ask her once tto go and 'talk to the piano.' That- was really why I did not want her to be married. And I used to see him always with you, and hear the names of all the authors and things, and wish and wish I knew what it all meant. And I couldn't get- him away even from von." (Dow all my years were expressed In two syllables.) "One day you were both going on about Evelyn Hope, and how lovely she was, and I thought she was a real girl; and then I found out she was only in a book, and I read it and couldn't make out a word of it. When we played tennis he did say I played well, but not like the others do, not as if it 1 mattered to him. Sometimes he seemed : not to know even that I was there." "He always knew, Rosemary; and he ' said it was such women as you that mads men what they often are—but what he ' never was." ' It was harsh, but it was salutary. The ' tears fell fast-. "I never knew anything ' could hurt like this. Do you think Aline ' feels like I do? Why, why can't he come back to let me show him. . . . ." ; "Rosemary"—l took her hand now —"I think you -really loved Maurice, for there ® are such different ways. If yon did, just for the little while that you may remem- - her him, let it- make yoa less, cruel to tin l rest-. Aline has had to suffer just because - yon were jealous of her one gift-, when f you had eveiytbing else. _ You can't right t- the wrong. Philip Vansittart will never t retnrn to her; ana, if he did, nothing cam » give her back her trust and hope. But 5 her music will comfort her. A great - pianist has heard her; he is going to tell i her that she has a splendid future. Her 5 name will be famous. I daresay you will - eit in-the stalls and- hear the audiences j applauding; they won't mind if she is - dowdy. You, of course, will have your t balls," and your clothes, and your dogs, - and your lovers, and, by and by, the match of the season. There is always e comfort for our sorrows, only it's not the i same-sort." I could - not contaih myself, - sod ebe deserved wely word.

"Help mei I don't know what to dp," she whispered. "For I know now I did care . . . . and—and I was not good enough:" '. ... "'- ~' : I kissed her and left hereto learn her lesson. Was it the birth of isonl? :'--Wasit but a passing fancy, and.'will tho coning years show no trace of this hour, when the blackbirds and thrushes were so happy in their spring madness? I think they wilL As I went on my way, peace came into my heart. Love and loss *r» never quite empty of sweetness. The beautiful short life bad not ended, because its influence would endure. I should do my task better and more gladly. I thought: how, away in Paris, a famous man had i laid aside his own work to gather together the poems that were Maurice's gift to the world, with what full appreciation he was writing the memoir to console us with a full meed of praise. And'l thought that some day I would tell him how our ''Chevalier :d'Avril" had awakened a sleeping beauty, if I saw any sequel to this first stormy chapter. Rosemary could never be the same. Between ut two there would be her secret, and I have told it that other Rosemaries may listen.