PANSY’S LOVER.

Western Star, Issue 2218, 1 July 1898, Page 6

PANSY’S LOVER.

AdaMonrgomery was one of those people who obtain all that they desire, and yet are for ever unsatisfied, and, as it seems, unfortunate. Is that because they ask too much ? She liked to get those things which would seem by right to belong to others ; to get them quietly, not by making any loud demand. She generally succeeded. But her success seemed to do her very little good. She had two notable triumphs of this kind. "Her cousin Pansy was engaged to Captain Montgomery when she first met him. Betore long the engagement was broken ; no one but themselves ever quite knew how or why. And soon afterwards ho proposed to Ada. The wedfling followed quickly. The cousins had a rich old aunt, with whom .Pansy had always been chief favourite, until Ada began to pay her a great deal of attention. «The result of this was that when Ada was Xnarried Aunt Anne gave her some of her fins iliaraonds. The family had always supposed shat these diamonds were to be Pansy's, as she really devoted herself to Aunt Anne, and touted her through a very serious illness. However, the ones that formed the wedding present were as nothing compared to the cues .he fetill had, which were to be left in her will. (Pansy's father bad seen an early will m which they were left to her, and he regarded them as Jreally all but hers. However. Aunt Anne was free to do as she liked, and she showed her appreciation of that lact by making a htcr will Ld showing it to nobody. And when she died, jrather suddenly, after a shoit, sharp illness, S b was found that she had left the diamonds to Ada Montgomery. But Ada’s triumph’s brought her little comfort Pansy went to visit her about a year after the marriage, and was very glad indeed that the Captain had jilted her for her cousin. I'or fje had taken to drinking and gambling, and nuarrelltd with his wife a great deal. They Jived in a hunting county, and Captain Montgomery filled the house with sporting men It Iwas a pleasant enough house for a pretty girl like Pansy to slay in, and she e. joyed her visit thoroughly. But it was brought to a close in a very uncom forts*blc maimer. The hunt ball took place while she was there, and she danced all the evening with the mew men in the room, who all said she was li e prettiest girl present, and the best dressed. She Vvras all in white, with no jewels, for she ha I pone to wear. Ada seemed happy too, and looked beautiful. Her head and neck blazed with the diamonds, and they became her. She had had the old tiara rearranged and made very light and pretty. The old-fashioned tiecaiace she wore just as it was, for it was too beautiful to be altered. Everyone admired Mrs Montgomery and her jewels. But alas ! she was not to rest happy in their possession. They were stolen that night. Before breakfast the next morning a mounted servan waS sent off 10 the town lor the police ; the servants, frightened and angry, whispired in groups together, and the guests came down looking anxious aud weary. Adaliad no lady’s maid,and no onehid waited - up to help her to undreas.She said she had been too tired to lock up the diamonds in the sale, where they were generally kept, that she had just left them on the dressing-table, and gone to bed to sleep, for it was dawn when they got home from the ball. In the morning a servant brought hor some tea, aud put away her dress ; then it was found that the eases for the diamonds were on the dressing-t-ble, but the diamonds were not there. Nor could they be found anywhere. it was very unpleasant for everybody. There was no one in particular to fasten suspicion on. By degiees, after being interviewed by the police, the guesls dropped off aud went their ways. Pansy,finding that her sympathy was received with cold ness,thought it best to go home at once. There she found great excitement prevailing, and no one paid more than a moment’s passing thought to the loss of Ada’s diamonds. Her msteia agreed that it was only just that Ada should lose them, for they considered she had got them in a very underhand way. The family all expected them to have been left to Pansy, and were of opinion that Ada must have told a great many untruths in order to prejudice lbs old lady against her favourite niece. Having consoled themselves by taking up the view that Ada was only justly punished for her perfidv,Pansy’s twosislers returned to their own overpowering iuterests.They were very advanced young women, and belonged to a sort of political club, pledged to obtain Woman suffrage. There was a general election on, aud every member of the club was hard at work distributing cards and literature on their special subject. Pansy was piessed into the service, and could not decently refuse, as her sisters were attacking perfect mountains of work. She would have liked to, in her heart, for she really dd not care about the question, and she disliked the sitting still for long hours of labour. She was meant by nature lor a country house life ; she could lide. and drive, and shoot ; and she cared nothing as to what the political conditions of the country were, so long as she might be out of doors all day long Of course, her visit to Ada Montgomery’s house, where the desultory, active, merry life exactly soiled her, made her more unsettled than usual \ this sober London parlour and the fixed resolution of her sisters in their persistent work irritated her to the last degree. She bore all this with commendable patience, and went on with her uninteresting task of directing envelopes from a red book, perfectly unconscious of the fact that she was fidgeting all the time. Her sisters eventually found her help more trying than the want of it, and Clara, the eld> st, bit upon an ingenious device.

“ Pansy,” she said suddenly, surveying a pile < of envelopes which were, ready, with their con- I tents enclosed, “ I wonder if you would drop 1 these into the letter-boxes of the streets near 1 here ? It would save us a lot of stamps.” 1 Pansy sprang at the suggestion as at deliverance from bondage. “ Oh, yes,” she said. “ I’ll do it with 1 pleasure.” ' She ran away for her hat, and came back with a basket on her arm, in which to put the 1 letters. Clara packed them in, ami added a lot 1 of loose leaflets. “ Just leave these anywhere,” 1 she said ; “throw them down areas, or put them 1 on the seats in the Park. 1 Pansy went olf, quite willing to help so long as she had not to sit still indoors. Mary, the second sister, who was horn to follow, and j recognised in Clara a leader appointed by ' nature, sank back in her chair with a sigh of ' relief as the front door closed. ' “ What a blessed thought ! ” she exclaimed, 1 “ Clara, you are a genius.” ’ Pansy went merrily on her way, rather amused with her venturesome mission. She had some hairbreadth escapes ; as when a front door was suddenly opened as she reached the * step and a lady came out. Pansy preserved her 1 presence of mind, and handed her the letter with so sweet a smile that the lady took it. This I was nothing like so bad as her arrival on the step of a grand house where they were probably 1 expecting visitors, for the moment Pansy’s touch 1 rattled the lid of the letter-box the great cloo r was flung open, and she found herself faer flower-decked hall, with a bowing pe ag a footman on each side of the doo* .wderecl another servant in'the middle. F' rway, and simply fled, with an odd f' ,om these she impostor. .eling of being an vVben the basket leaflets, Pansy fo.P' as empty except of the which admitted ' -nd herself close to a gate to the prettiest part of Hyde

Park, the drive by Park-lane. She went in, and sat down on a chair under the trees. She was a little tired now and glad to test ; aud she sat lost in thought (of things as they were and as they might be), not noticing the crowds that passed or the people that sat in the chairs next her. She had an impression that many came and went; that was all. She was engrossed solely with the idea of putting off the evil moment of returning to the dull parlour and serious labours as long as possible. The season was nearing the end ; but the Park was \eiy full. A dark-skinned Prince was being entertained by the English Government, aud the crimson of the royal liveries brought crowds of smart people out to look at his carnages when he went out late in Ihe afternoon. He passed, and Pausy was amused to have seen him. She was just thinking that she had stayed long enough aud must go home when a pleasant, low-toned masculine voice addressed her, with an unmistakable American drawl in it.

“Will you let me look at those papers you have ? lam very interested in the subject.” She looked up, startled out of her dreams, and saw that the person who spoke was a goodlooking young man who sat on the chair next her, lie had the Ameiican slightness and strength of figure and pallor of skin ; he had large dark eyes, full of interest and meaning ; and he was most perfectly dressed and appointed. Pansy’s heart gave a jump. W’hat a charming young man ! Ought she to answer him ? W’by, of course, hei good sense told her, when he spoke so simply and straightforwardly on a public subject She handed him some of the leaflets. He took them, looked at them, and began to talk of the subject and of the political situation, getting altogether beyond Pansy’s depth very soon. But she listened, and answered, able to simulate more knowledge than she possessed from having heard her sisters’ talk. She liked to hear his voice, aud to meet those dark soft eyes. W’hcn at last conscience would bo silenced no longer and stie rose to go, he asked if be might have a quantity of leaflets he was sure he could distribute them among people he knew. Pansy hesitated, but felt that it would be very absurd to refuse such an offer merely because she admired his dark eyes and his charming manner. So she gave him her addnss, and told him to call in the morning and ask for Miss Drummond. She did not explain that, by this means, he would see her sister Clara. She thought herself very wise in this, and was quite unconcerned when she told her sister that a gentleman who bad seen the leaflets would call in the morning for some to distribute.

Well,he came. He saw only Clara Drummond, and she gave him a hundred leaflets. W’hat he aid with them history sayeth not. Perhaps he left them on a doorstep or dropped them into the Serpentine. He certainly did not distribute them,for he had other things to do and to think of. But he let Miss Drummond think be did, and so obtained an entree to the house. Then ho met Pansy, by seeming accident, aud offi red to carry her basket. But he did not talk much to her about the suffrage, or about politics, after the first day or two. He seemed to take a great interest in Pansy herself, in her tastes aud pleasures, her desires aud ambitions. Pansy learnt at last to talk quite naturally him, as she would have talked to a partner at a ball, or au acquaintance met at a flielid’s. She forgol that she knew nothing of him,and he had never told her who he was, or even where he lived. That bis name was Edwin Platt, that he was very nice, and that he was quite devoted to the cause of woman suffrage, was the beginning and end of her information about him. But if Clara, who was naturally severe, made no comment on this odd acquaintanceship,why should Pansy, who thoroughly enjoyed it ? And Clara was not likely to be severe on Mr. Platt at present, for he carried off fifty or a hundred leaflets every lime he called It became matter of speculation with Pansy, after she learnt to know her lover better, whether be threw these all away, or whether he found a friendly butterman to whom he sold them. But she has never ventured to ask him. Clara aud Mary were delighted with theii new recruit; they felt that Ihcy were really getting on with their work splendidly, when baskets lull of circulars were taken out .twice a day, and Mr. Platt, when ho came in with Pansy, carried away armfuls of leaflets—for distribution, as he said vaguely.

“ He must have a great many acquaintances” said Clara, after he bad dune this for the third time.

“ Y’es,” agreed Mary, “it’s splendid, isn't it? But I’m rather afraid Pansy is flirting with him a good deal.” “Ah well,” said the elder sister, placidly. " That’s rather Pansy’s way you know. And I think she can quite take care of herself. We’ve only another day or two of work before us, and after that he’ll have no excuse for coming here.” So they went on addressing envelopes, and Pansy went walking about carrying her basket aud glanciug down side streets for the handsome figure of her admirer. She almost always met him. He talked to her about all sorts of things, in his pretty law American drawl, describing his life at home (which she found to mean St. Paul, Minnesota), ami the customs aud ways of his people, which interested Pausy very much. She thought she would likcAmerica. He told her he was going back very soon ; that be was a tiaveller for an American firm of publishers, and had beeu sent over to London on their business. “ Y’uu don’t seem to have much of it to do at present,” observed Pansy. “ Oh, well.” he answered with a slightly embarrassed laugh, “ I’m just putting in a little time for myself now.”

Afier this conversation Pansy went homo very thoughtful. And the next day she said she was tired and would rather not go out with the circulars. Her sisters made no demur, for she had worked hard. So she sat in an easy chair in her room aud pretended to sew. Prom where she sat she could see the street through her muslin blinds.

Quite late in the afternoon she saw him go by Her heart stopped heating. Would he call V She dropped her work, and rising, began to walk restlessly about the room, listening for a knock. She had turned pate ; she was a little frightened at herself. For she knew now that she cared fur him. And he —would he go back to America and forget her r* Was it a mere flirtation fur the moment to him V Alas ! to her it had become something very different. Yes ; she was frightened. He did call, but not till nearly an hour later. By that time Tansy was quite worn out by her own thoughts and by anxiety as to whether ho would come. She knew his knock instant!'’ but she diil not go down. Iu a little ” ~ Mary came to her. She found her sit T.. bile soberly at her sewing. -mg very “ Your friend, Mr. Platt, Mary, “ won’t you come dow rs here,” said Tansy flashed a little r <n ?” tioning eyes ; but s’ under her sister’s qucsvery naturally exr ue managed to look with “ X want so ..ressed regret at her work, haven’t had to finish this,” she said, “ I “ Xhr' . a chance the last day or two ” bett- .c’s true,” said Mary, “ but still you’d r come down. We are just going to have Well, she went down. The next hour passed delightfully. stole covert looks at the American, and thought how nice-looking he was, how much mure intelligent and refined than the average young Englishman, how dark and gentle his eyes were, and how well his clothes fitted. A publisher’s traveller does not sound very grand, she reflected, but it is, after i all, much nicer than a smart captain who drinks , and gambles, and is rude to his wife. She felt

sure th quiet-voiced young man could utver be rude. The next day she went out agaiu, at her usual hour, and met him at the very corner of the street, where it seemed as if he had been waiting for her. They went for a long walk in the Park,and talked of all things in heaver aud earth, and were very happy. They forgot all about the circulars ; wbeu they were close home Pansy suddenly remembered them. “Oh !” she exclaimed, “ what shall we do with these ?”

In rueful dismay they looked at the basketful, then Mr. Plait suddenly turned sway, went to a pillar-box close by, aud posted them all unstamped. “ Oh !” cried Pansy again, in atone of still greater horror. Then their eyes met, and they both laughed.

“ What could we do ?” said Mr. Platt. “ I want to come in with you.” He did ; and when he went away Pansy’s heart was at ease. He was devoted indeed. He had only to speak. She waited confidently for him to do so.

The next day the quiet household was greatly excited by the arrival of Ada Montgomery, who came in a cab with a quiet-looking man who was a police-inspector in plain clothes. She was in a state of suppressed eagerness that made her nervous, The police had actually got not only a clue, but something more. They thought they had got some of Ihe diamonds. Ada was on her way to a diamond merchant’s in Old Jewry, to identify the stones, and she wished Pansy to go with her. “If this be true,” exclaimed Ada, “ they have been sold so cleverly and quickly. Oh, who can it have been ?” “ You will bear the description of the person who brought it as soon as we are sure about the necklace,” said the inspector. Pansy, catching the contagion of excitement, ran away to dress. In a few minutes they were in the cab again, driving to the City. Ada sat silent, deep in thought ; her face had grown hard and cold since her marriage. Pansy looked at 1 er, thinking hosv glad she was that she had a lover who was kind and gentle, who made lite a pleasure. Ada’s husband had evidently made life much harder for her than it had been before. Pansy pitied her. It seemed sad,too sad to think of, that even Ada, for whom she had little love, should have sworn to honour and obey such a man as Captain Montgomery. With a little shiver she thought of the brief time she had beeu engaged to him. Then a smile came, as she reflected that she Lad only been a child then —that she had known nothing of the world or of men. She was wiser now ; she knew better how to choose, and she felt she could afford to pity Ada. Then her mind, which had been carried away from her own affairs by Ada’s arrival and her news, veered back, and dwelt tenderly on the thought of hei dark-eyed lover. Would he be waudeiing about to meet her and wonder where she bad gone ? Would he call—would he be in the little parlour, talking to her sisters, when she got back ? She knew so exactly where to look for him, she could tell instantly if he was there, even if it was dusk, and the lamp had not been brought. He liked a certain low rocking-chair that stood by the window ; he always leant right back in it, with the languor that characterises a particular type of American, When she opened the door he would rise—she knew so exactly now—very slowly, and with a certain grace that in an Englishman would have seemed effi niinate. Surely he would be there—yes,waiting for her--when she gut back. She hugged the thought to her heart. And what would they do to-morrow - what would happen ? Would Ada stay P Would Pansy have to be with her, or would she have another of those delicious long walks through the Park, listening to that pleasant, low, and drawin g voice ? Surely it would bo possible And then perhaps he would speak. She did not see how many more days could pass wilhout his speaking. Then she began to wonder about America again—to conjeclure what her life would be like, to dwell on it in delicious day-dreams. It was a long, long drive, through crowded streets, in a jolting four-wheeler, wilh a horse that seemed to ask nothing of life but liberty to stand still. But Pansy was not bored ; her thoughts amused her too well for that When one is full of any keen feeling, deeply lost in somebright personal experience, the enforced idleness even of a tedious journey is very pleasant. It is a joy to sit with folded hands and dwell on delightful memories, or enchanting possibilities which lie in the future. Pansy was in this condition, and felt a little sorry when the cab drew up with a jerk, and she was brought back abruptly to the dullness of a city street aud the matter of Ada’s diamonds. As she got out she caught sight of a figure so like Edwin Platt’s that her heart stopped beating tor a second. But it was lost instantly in the crowd, and she (old herself she was very foolish, that she created the likeness by thinking of him so much ; she knew thafthis happens, that it is a sign of love's folly ; and so, trying to put the thought of him out her mind, she quickly followed Ada into the diamond merchant’s. She was left alone wilh Ada for a few moments, the police officer going in first to the private room of one of the principals in the business. “ I am a little nervous,” Ada confessed now, speaking in a low voice. “ I hope I shall carry this through all right. I wish George had not gone abroad just now ; it wasn’t right of him.” “Is Captain Montgomery away?” said Pansy in sin prise, for Ada had said nothing of this before. She pitied her more than ever. Yes,” said Ada. “He went to Homhurg the day before yesterday. 1 don’t think he ought to have gone when 1 have all this troublesome business to attend to. But then, of course, we did not know of this. He always maintained tha the police would never find out anything, that they never do.” She dropped he-r voice at the last words, for the door had opened and the police officer came back. With him they went in to the inner room, where two very polite, bald-headed elderly

gentleman received them with great civili*' After some little preliminary talk, and -f----rubbing of fat white diamond-decked ' much case on the table was opened. V" Hands, a gleaming necklace. The two y' ■ ithiu it lay a gave a sort of little gasp o” oung women each quite as intelligible as * sigh, which sei med who looked at ea' words to the three men, smiles. .ch other with little solemn “ That i p “Do r ■ my necklace,” said Ada. aske'’ jOU recognise it also the police officer a Pansy. “ Oh, yes, certainly,” she answered. “ That is Mrs. Montgomery’s necklace. The stones are in the same old setting they were in when I was a little girl and first saw it.” ,s 0 far all was very encouraging, and Ada’s colour rose and her eyes brightened at the sight of her diamonds. But the thief was still to catch, aud the necklace had been paid for by the baldhcaded gentlemen, who politely gave her to understand that they had given a heavy price for it. “ It was a daring thing,” observed the police officer, “to sell that necklace whole here in London. It can’t have been one of the regular customers. They break them up. Now for the description.” A shopman was called in, who described the person who had called lale one night and made an appointment for early the next morning with one of the chiefs. The same person came in the morning, was recognised, and ushered in i a fine florid man with a military hearing, a loud • voice, pale blue eyes, light hair turning grey, a i clean shaven face, ; Pansy stole a glance at Ada. She saw so

strange an expression on her face that she dared not look again. The clerk was ssnt away, and the chief then described this same person, and told the story of why the diamonds had to be sold, according to the seller. As it was all invention, it is not necessary to record it here. Whin he had done Ada sank back in her chair, and there wis silence for a moment. The police-officer broke it. ‘ Do you recognise the description ?” he inquired of her. *• I do not think so,” she answered. “ And yon r” he said to Pansy. She bad not the power to speak, sho managed to shake her head. He drew a photograph out of his breast pocket, and handed it across the table to the merchant. “ That is the man,” he said, after a glance at it. Ada sprang forward. “ Where did you get that ?” she demanded of the police-officer, “ I took it from the album on your drawingroom table this morning,” he said, “while I was waiting for yen.” “ Come, Pansy,” she said, turning to her cousin ; “ it is not necessary to stay here aoy longer.”

They went out and got into the cab, and drove away. After a ling silence, Ada said :“ 1 don’t expect ever to sec Ueorge again. He might have spared ma this.” Pansy put out a lender hand. “ Poor Ada,” she said.

“ Don't pily me !” cried Ada. “ I can bear anything but that. I've enough to bear without your pity. I've always had the bi st of it till now. I got Auntie to leave rno the diamonds cleverly, didn’t 1 ? You were nowhere when I took a little trouble. And now they're gone — all at once- ”

She stopped, and was silent a minute. Then she wi nt on, in a harder voice :

“ I helmed you bad I a ken them—firmly believed it I thought it was certain. George knew I believed this, and had said so to the police, and 1 suppose that’s what made him so daring when ho had made up his mind to sell them and go. He wasn’t being watched, and could sell them without any trouble? You were. From the moment you left ray house you were followed everywhere, watched, shadowed, by one of the smartest detectives in London, an American, not long over here. Why, heavi ns, Pansy, what’s the matter ?" Pansy had fallen forward into a merciful unconsciousness. Ada was a little frightened, tl e swoon was so profound. It was barely over when they reached home. Pansy went up to her room, and did not leave it again for that day, nor for some days afterwards. When Ada had talked to the others a little she unth rslood. And, despite her own misery, she smiled that night, when she lay awake in the dark.

When Pansy got up again, weak and thin, she sat m the chair by her window, where she sat with her sewing, on the day when she saw Edwin Platt pass down the street, and where Maiy had found her when she came to tell her he was there, waiting for her. She looked vacantly out of her window, from mere habit. She never saw him again. He was gone from her world as completely as though he had never entered it. But he had leflTiis mark —one that the waters of death only could wash out.