BETWIXT TWO STOOLS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 3258, 16 September 1878, Page 3

BETWIXT TWO STOOLS.

Ifc "was a cold, disagreeable niglifc. Instinctively I turned back to the cheerful grate and comfortable arm-chair. If a friend would only drop in, I thought; ; if anything would happen to relieve the tedium! Bub there was no proapeot of it, so feeling that I never could get through the oveniog alone, I buttoned up my great-coat, and started out. I had no definite idea where I was going, but the secret of all my discomfort wag that I was in love with two women. Perhaps I wasn't at that moment in love with two women, but I certainly was ovor head and ears in love with one, and head and ears engaged to another.

It came about in this way. I had two years before met Julia Leeds. She was a beautiful girl, and had a fortune in her own right. I met her at parties, and, after a time, I had the extreme satisfaction of learning that I was preferred to all the crowd of fortunehunters who worshipped at her shrine. And then it was, in an evil hour, that I proposed and was accepted. Her heart, she assured mo, was in my keeping, and had been for a very long time. I think I believed myself in love with her, though I do not know that I ever paused to speculate upon the peculiar state of my feelings. I was a young man, good-looking, bo to speak — and Julia was a beautiful and angelic girl. I had won the prize for which so many were striving. But it foil out ono day, or rather I fell m one day, the company of Kitty Blanchard. I did not know who Kitty Blanchard was. But there was something in the glance of Kitty's eye and in the words she spoke tbat told mo very decidedly that she was far beyond many. For a week I saw nothing, night or day, but black, roguish eyes, and dancing curls. I went to parties, theatres, #nd concerts by myself, in hopes of meeting her. No use. She wasn't there. '

At last, despairing of ever proceeding any further, independently, I was forced to inquire of the friend who introduced me — a proceeding very distasteful to mo, as I did not wish to advertise my business, or, in other words, give Mm reason to suspect I was at all interested. But I did ask him who Kitty Blanchard was, and I was sorry for it the minute after, for the reply was instantaneous, " She's a widow." , :

Now, if there was any one thing that I secretly despised, that I had Unmitigated contempt for, it was a widow, young or" old. They all had that melodramatic air about them, had the same way of talking about the virtues of the dead Mr Pendergrass, or, whatever the name might be, and insisting that there never was so kind and good a man. I don't know why they do this. I never heard

anyone say. It was certainly not the bait that would hook me.

But Kitty Blanchard had not once alluded to the defunct Adolphus, and! I had .certainly talked with her five minutes. I wondered how long since the sods were neatly fitted over Ins resting place— how long the little birds had sung his requiem in the drooping branches of the, &c. I didn't got any farther than I recollected that Kitty wore no weeds, but that she was bewitching in an— l hadn't the ghost of an idea whether her dress was blue, green, or grey, only that I remembered it was short, and that she had a foot that I had been nearly crazy about ever since. I had heard everywhere that a lady was best dressed when you could not remember a single thing she had on ; so, while I had my doubts about the application of that rule to all cases, 1 was willing to concede that Kitty Blanchard was the best-dressed woman in the city.

And the earth must be heaped a year over that silent resting-place — possibly more, for Kitty,' I was certain, differed from the widows I had known. She didn't move about in her black robes with cambric to her eyes for three hundred and sixty-five clays, hopping out on the sixty-sixth with beaming eyes and pink bonnet. No, I knew better than that.

I am sorry to say it,' but I think I quite forgot all about Julia in those days, and after I had again met Kitty, and had passed one or two evenings in her society, I know I did. In fact, I did not know that there was anybody else into the world. I was fearfully in earnest.

Kitty was everything that was interesting ; and I learned after a while that the "sods had been neatly fitted" two years before. She told me that, and it was the only allusion she ever made to the " goue-beforo" sharer of her joys— griefs I'm sure she never had. This was about the time my trouble commenced. Tilings had got to just this pitch on that stormy, cold evening of which I spoke at the commencement of tins story. I didn't like Julia any more, and it was astonishing how insignificant her money looked to me. I was certain that Julia loved me, and I did not know how I was going to get out of the entanglement ; but I couldn't marry her with my heart a burning, seething furnace of affection for Kitty Blanchard. She hadn't any money. I knew that, but I loved her so that I would have been willing to sacrifice a dozen such fortunes as Julia's for the simple assurance that I was dear to her.

But I was bargained for— as good as sold, everybody thought, and I could not ascertain the state of Kitty's feelings until something should turn up to help me out of my difficulty. Two or three times tho thongtit had entered my brain that I would sec Julia and make a clean breast of it ; assure hor that I had been mistaken in my feelings— that, in short, I loved another.* That was the orthodox way of doing things, and it was the only way that at first occurred to me. Then, when I considered upon it, I was afraid. Julia was a bright, high-spirited girl, and belonged to an influential family, and, if she chose to make things unpleasant, I know she would do it. So I felt that I must resort to stratcgem— get Julia in love with some other fellow. ,

And now I have got quite back to that frosty, cold night that formed the opening to this confession. I am now ready to tell where I went.

" Why, you went to see your widow, of course," exclaims a prophetic reader. • No, I didn't. I went to see a very intimate male friend, rejoicing in the euphonious name of Ellsworth Percival.- He was a great lady's man. Ho loved the whole sex, and they, the ladies, took to him naturally. I found him, and told my story, and asked him what I should do. He didn't know the little widow, he said, but he could readily imagine, after my description, that she was tho " one altogether lovely." Julia Leeds he did know, and ho would call there a few times, get up a little flirtation, or words to that effect ; I could get jealous, pick a quarrel, break the engagement, marry the widow, and let Julia find somebody else.

It was all as easy as rolling off a slippery log. So it was arranged. Ellsworth Percival began calling upon Julia and I upon the widow, and keeping away from Julia. I think I was more happy for the next few weeks than mortal has right to expect. I called on my adored Kitty as often as I could frame an excuse to go there, and as often as I dared without an excuse. She was gentle, pleasant-, everything. She liked my society, I* knew, but she had a most wondorf hl faculty of making a man feel that he had no rights or privileges in life. I couldn't account for that.

Consequently I was very much surprised one evening to find hor sitting very close to a long-wliiskered individual who was tenderly holding one of those identical little hands that I had been raving about for months. She rose very gracefully as I entered, and —well, I never did know just how she did it, but I found out by something she said that I was an acquaintance, and that D'Arlemont — or some such French name— was her affianced husband, or she was his aflianced wife, or something of that kind— l didn't know or care what— l was only conscious of the fact that I wasn't anything, or anywhere. I believe I congratulated the widow, and said " I hoped I didn't intrude," talked a few moments about the weather, made my best bow, and got out. I must have walked ten miles before I reached home, and I don't think that I had taken three successive stops in all that distance without "confounding" the widows and wishing the whole race to the dogs. But when I came to my reason a little — it was near morning when I did— l made up my mind that I would show her — as though she needed any showing. s My mind was made vp — that was certain. I would call upon Julia at once. I would apologize for my lato inattention, and wo would bo married right away. I slept an hour or two on that. I was a little sore about the heart, and very achey about the head when I awoke. -That morning two letters lay at my bedside. I took one of them, doubled up my pillow, raised myself on my elbow, and broko the seal. It was from Ellsworth Porcival, telling mo that ho was married. Ho hoped I was satisfied, and insisted that ho owed mo a debt of gratitude for putting him in the way of securing so lovely and lovable a wife. Then followed some badinage about the widow with the soulful eyes, and many good wishes for my success in that direction. The other letter was from Julia herself, enclosing wedding cards. The contents of the letter I do not remember, but I kuow it was dignified in tone, and that I was informed that I was released from my engagement, that she harboured no resentment, but that I must never, never seek to soe her again. And I never, never did.