THE ANGEL UNAWARES.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LV, Issue 13983, 14 August 1909, Page 5

THE ANGEL UNAWARES.

(By Agues Claro Inglis.)

Hanson sat looking absently at the soft green hills and tho motionless trees living in the July sun. He was sitting on an unturned pail, in the shadow ot tho big, empty tent, which would soon ho tilled* with a merry, happy crowd. Th© afternoon performance was over, and in all the throng he had seen but one familiar face. To be sure, he had not much time to notice faces as he dashed around the ring in his pink tights and went through his tricks and feats of horsemanship on the back of his beautiful "Molly," though he was especially watchful today. Yet it was not likely that he should know any of the students, for it I was three years since he had been graduated here from the law department of the university, and those who were now seniors had been only fresh*men at that time. And now, as he sat on the upturned bucket in the shade alone he was thinking over all the. old college days. It was the first time he had been back in those three years, and there passed through his mind the memory of all that had happened since he first returned to his home in lowa with his head full of law, and with the same inilolent, happy-go-lucky nature with which be had come to college. He reviewed the year or more in which he had tried to* settle down to be a lawyer, and the end of it failure^ — which would probably have been the end of any course he might have chosen. Then the drifting— no, he had not been, bad nor wild, but certainly worthless. And I it had ended that he was riding as Signor Colon de Tornos — on the bUIs — with one of the big circuses, for he had to do something for a living. All his boyhood had been spent, in the saddle, out on the Western prairies, and he was as much at home on the back of an unbroken horse as an ordinary person is in a rocking-chair, so it was nothing for him to learn a few more showy-feats for the general public to applaud. As for the costume, it was very much like his gym. suit?, except- in colour. His thoughts reverted to the girl, woman now, whose face had shown him an astonished and yet quiet recognition. She was a town girl whom he had once known well. He decided suddenly to go and see her before his night's work began ; she would make allowance for the untimely call, «s 6he knew how he came /to be there. So he started into the dressing -tent to change his clothes^ and .as he readied the flap door, a girl with a, small neat figure appeared in it and said to him: "I say, Carl, if you want any supper you'd better hurry up." 1 < She was one of the trapese performers. • " ' "I guess I don't want any supper ,- to-night; I'm going for a walk," answered Carl shortly, and passedjn. He hastily put on his buiet suit of blue, brushed his hair snd arranged his tie with extra care; and walked quickly from the grounds. Only a' few of the inevitable small boys were around, besides the peanut and lemonade men. All the town people" were at supper, so Hanson could observe the familiar houses' without himself being observed. He was on his way to see Miss Nelson. He eagerly ' noted that things had . changed very little. As he passed his old fraternity house he half started to go in, but after a moment's hesitation — he went on. He. -didn't know these 1 men. When he came to Miss Nelson's it occurred- to him, as it had not before* strangely enough, that however good friends they had been; Miss Nelson might not bo pleased to' receive a circus ' performer, and at the ides he - still and scowled as he thought i> over. Then, with a grim determination, he auickerted his steps, and firmly rang ie bell. What would .she think of now— she who had hoped great things of him? , , - -*•* ~ It seemed a long time before the door - was opened, and by Miss Nelson herself. Neither' knew just what to say. Everything he had thought of saying flew from his head, until «he somewhat nervously held out her ham Land said — "Carl I" Hanson gave a sigh of relief as he entered, to ?ind that she had not turned him away. So they talked, and Hanson told tehat he had done since last they met, hanging his head as he spoke, as one confessing a crime. And she listened gravely and told him how truly disappointed in him she was, and she recalled all the old plans and ambitions that Hanson had confided 1 to her, and . he hated himself more and. more. Before they realised how late it was they saw a stream of people* going towards the circus; grounds, ' and this brought Hanson back to the hard reality that he was under contract to appear elsewhere. He jumped to his feet as he looked at his watch. "It may bo a long time before we meet again," he said. "Do you know you have done me a great deal of good " this evening. You have waked me up." "Ah, but your ambition does not last long," she answered sadly. "Will you really try, I wonder?" ; Hanson winced. "What are you going to doP" she persisted, relentlessly. Hanson said uothing for a minute. "I — I don't know." "Something better than this?" "Yes — yes, Kathleen, I will, I swear I will. I promise you," he said, taking her hand. ' "Then auf weidcrseheu, Carl. I shall believe in you. "God bless you, Kathleen. I must go now." And after shaking her hand he dashed down the street, and Miss ■ Nelson watched him until she could no longer see him. There were tears in her eyes as she turned from the window. But this Hanson never knew. > As he came to the door of the dress- • ing tent, he met the trapeze gin! again, and wondered, as he often did, how she came to bo there. It never occurred to him that she might wonder the same al>out him. She was utterly diftereut irom the rqst of the women, who were many of them coarse and harsh voiced, with painted-out faces and red hands. He. had come to bB on friendly terms with the trapeze girl, though she was peculiarly proud" and reserved. Already the -hand was playing loudly \ in the other tent. The late-comers were straggling in. Outside the flickering oil lights intensified the darkness beyond. Hanson had just time to change his clothes before he had to appear in the ring. To-night a wild, buoyant recklessness filled him, the reaction from his previous earnestness. He hated himself more than he ever had before, and he had fits of self-scorn that wf re pretty bad, but he put on his gayest exterior, and rode magnificently, heedless of danger. It was a relief when he had to leave town the next morning. On the train he wrote a long letter to Miss Nelson, but on rereading it he tore it up and took twice the time writing another a page long. He still had a month to 6tay with the circus, under his contracts and what he should do after that he still did not know. He was watching the trapese girl one night about n week after this, and as she swuiig in mid-air ho became quite annoy9d to see the - man on the opposite trapeze catch her hands in his and swing both to and fro. Hanson had always disliked that man, for he was a bad character, and he remembered now that Francesco, the trspeae girl, disliked him, too, but Hanson had never cared about the matter before. Ho was looking at them when bis horse jumped a high hurdle, and somehow its rider was thrown heavily, and the next horse was upon him before he could regain his feet. Some women in the audience screamed, and the horses pranced, but the ringmaster hurried up and calmly ordered two "supes" to carry his still body out of the ring. The blood trickled down \v% tace trom a gash on his forehead and drihhlod along the sawdust as they took him out ami laid him on ft miv in the dm»-»in<i tent' with its inihtcady

lights. As he came to they saw he was not badly hurt, and after having his wound dressed, he asked them to leave him alone. But the trapese girl, coming in regardless of bis order, sat down beside him and put her cool fingers on his hot, aching head. "Rather clumsy of you," was all the sympathy she gave. "I was watching you," be answered meekly, as if that were a reasonable and sufficient excuse. His next remark was seemingly irrelevant. "Who are youP" he asked. "L mean, ■ what is your real name, and how did you come to be beref" ' She looked at him earionsly. "Have I never told your All I know is that I was lost When I was quite small, and lime. Garsoni, who used to be one of the riders, found me, cared for me and brought ale up the best she knew bow. She never could find anything about my family. She died about two years ago. She wss very kind and good to me, and when she died, I had nowhere to go, nothing to do but stay here. Franceses is the only name I know." "And you must be about how old?" "Twenty, I think." "You don't know your Isst name}" , said Hanson meditatively. Then W asked suddenly. "Will you let me give you another ■ name, FranceacaP Will you let it be Hanson? And we'll go away from this—" "Oh, Carl," she said. Looking into her eyes, he rose on one - elbow And kissed her. So he knew without her telling him. ' In a certain Western university town > there is among the small boys there an „ annual erase tor giving a circus. They " ringleader is a hoy about eight years old, whose erect figure and flashing - „ eyes command obedience from the older \. boys. Timmie Brown, a very good- - natured fat boy, dressed in some of his , sister's clothes, makes a very presentable Fat Lady. No difficulty is too great to be surmounted by the ener- . getic young leader, who does the t "feats of daring" on old "Molly." His mother smiles patiently, as she hinds up the annual bruises of the whole troupe. ABnt she and her husband, the re- , spected Professor Hanson, of the uni- „ versity, let this bent of the boy's take its own course, knowing that he will • outgrow it. Indeed they .both make the most valuable suggestions for the • whole performance, and the boy thinks ■_, his mother and father wonderfully keen and observing to remember, and does not see how they .notice so much just * at the occasional circuses which which come to town. But someday they win ; tell him, lest he be distressed by the remarks of gossips. *