THE WOMAN WHO LAUGHED.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIV, Issue VII, 16 February 1895, Page 160

THE WOMAN WHO LAUGHED.

A PARABLE OF THE MOMENT.

Imssn'HE had laughed at everything since her babyhood, not so much from a strong sense of humour as from a lack of a sense of responsibility. She ILSuSm grumbled a good deal when the world dealt hardly with her —that is, when a new costume from the dress-maker’s failed to fit and the last box of cigarettes were not from the maker she preferred. Otherwise she managed to enjoy her existence with a moth’s recklessness ; if she were ever caught in the flame and painfully burned, the world did not know it. Tnere was not one among her circle of friends who wonld have bad her otherwise. They had sick wives at home, or drnnken husbands—politely drunken husbands (nothing was squalid among their woes), but to such torture-ridden men and women her smiles were opium and' her laughter the wisest tonic in the world. They expected her to hug her childish recklessness, and she held it close ; wished her to remain her old beautiful careless self, and she altered not one jot. • But I shall have to marry some day,’ she said, * and grow fat and old and lazy. How tiresome that will be. What do you say to marriage, Charles? I am contemplating it just now.’ He was her chief confidant and friend. A fair man, who had missed his future, and spent his money feverishly. A man society admired and applauded, because his talents being wasted, were at its service for evermore. • Dear thing,’ he said gravely. * Why bother about marrying at all ? You are charming as you are.’ She pouted. * Don’t be stupid,’ she cried, *of course I can’t be an old maid.’ • Old !’ He smiled. • Well, I shall be old some day. We all owe a debt to time, which we spend our lives in paying off; and it won't take an IO U, will it? No, I must make up my mind to marriage.’ • Exactly—in future years. Why trouble “ wbat is ” with the business of “tobe ” ? Besides ’ —he moved uneasily in bis chair—• you could never he faithful for more than three weeks at a time, could you, Poppy ?’ • N—no,’ she admitted, ‘but I should like to try.’ He laughed. * How characteristic. Still your husband might not relish the experiment.’ • Then I shouldn't marry him. I should settle first of all that you and Clarie joined ns on our honeymoon, or Clarie and her husband ; yon would spoil my acting.’ •I ! Oh ! oh !’

* Yes, you would ; your sense of humour is too strong. You turn everything sacred into an immoral epigram, and everything poetical into a music 'hall ditty. ‘Romance freezes in your presence, and imagination dries up and is parched. lam the only person your wit does not paralyze ; and if I were going downhill to the devil to-morrow, the drag you put on would only make me take the bit in my mouth and run away. You are a horror.’ • You,’ he said, ‘ are a darling.’ She laughed. ‘ You idiot. That is your latest pose. So many of your friends fancy themselves in love with me that you have tried to convert your Platonism into passion. Do you think I can’t see through it?’ The man rose and went to the window. * It’s a beastly day, Pop,’ he said. She went to the mirror over the mantelpiece and patted her hair. ‘ You are the only man I know who has never proposed to me. You should do so. Charlie, just to be in the fashion.’ He spoke abruptly : • Whas did you say ?’ he asked. She pulled the longest curl in her fringe down towards the top of her nose. ‘ I went to Douglas’s, and they cut my hair too short,’ she answered. His reply was not audible. ■Did you swear, Charlie?’ she continued. ‘I felt inclined to swear at them myself ; but it was too late. I never waste a bad word when its use has gone. It has two uses : to intimate or to shock. Now I ’ * I wasn’t talking about swearing. What was your last remark about marriage ?’ * Ob, I said you had never proposed to me. You don’t intend to deny that ?’ ‘You expect me to begin ?’ ■lt would be amusing, just for fun. We should both know the result beforehand—a feeling which I never experienced before. The men I have met have always been conceited, and their vanity has led them to a knowledge of my feelings which was fictitious. I alone was certain of the result. Now in this case we should both be in the secret. I never kept you out of a secret yet, Charlie.’ • If you were less of a baby ’ —he began. • And you less of a man ’—she retorted. He finished for her. • The plan might answer.’ But the mood, and the witchery of the sunshine, and the warm still afternoon were on her. She moved towards him, and laid her hand on his arm. ■ Charlie, to give me pleasure—please begin.' He looked down at her then, and his face worked strangely. The light fell full on her lifted throat, her red lips, her beautiful long-fringed eyes. • A poor man,’ he said gravely ; ‘ poor in your extravagant ideas, wants to marry you. A young man who might have done better, and has frivolled instead. A man who bets, on occasion gets rich, on occasion starves on champagne and good cigars when be is down on his luck.’ • Charming, Charlie, charming !’ * A man who has known you a long time, who has loved your tears and your laughter, who has basked in your sunshine and shuddered in your shadows. An old friend who is young in wisdom and who loves you. Who leves yon, Poppy, loves you. Who finds you with your laughter, the one serious thing in his lite, who would give all else for it and is ashamed to own all this—even to you.’ She drew back scared. * Oh, Charlie 1’ she said, with a bitter little laugh, * how stupid I You are in earnest.’ •In earnest,’ he repeated—• yes. No longer your friend who had sworn that, to be chic nowadays, one must never feel, merely live to give sensations to others. That is tbe mask we all wear, to make us appear charming : I am sick of acting to you.*

She protested. ' You never acted to me. We were both frauds, and I still glory in that. We meant to be a social success, and we have our ambition. Nature aided us by her birthday presents of faces not too plain and wits not too dull, manners not too vulgar. You are forswearing your creed.’ * Clothe it in any words you like,’ he answered ; * I’m in earnest now.’ She walked across the room, and spoke quickly. * It is tiresome of you, but it can’t be helped. Have a cigarette, and we will talk this over. Dissect yourself ; how do you feel!’ He did not look round until he faced the starry eyes smiling through a cloud of smoke. Even then they made him feel that she had not one jot of sympathy with his new r6le, whether real or feigned. He laughed loudly. * A d d fool,* he said. * Ssh I no bad words. But bravo, Charlie ! all the same.’ * You are a little devil.’ * I always was.’ * I took you in.’ * You didn’t.’ * It was a splendid joke.’ * You act badly.’ He crossed to the mantelpiece, and lit a cigarette, but his lips twitched. She glanced at him with curiosity. * I never saw you like this before.* He flung himself into an armchair. * No, and you won’t again.’ * Wise boy. You—you really meant it!’ * For a second.’ She jumped up, and looked down at his handsome face silently. Presently be glanced up—and his gaze disconcerted her. * You—you were serious for one moment ?’ she stammered. •Yes ; and you ?’ • * I should like to be serious with you ; but it can’t be done, Charlie. Forgive me,’ He turned his head away. * All right.’ She resumed her seat and her cigarette. They were both silent for a long while ; then a maid entered with a small registered packet. Poppy withdrew a glittering circle of diamonds, glanced at it with a flushed face, and then threw it across to him. ‘ Catch !’ she cried ; • it’s my engagement ring—Lord Sands—three places in the country—good set—town house. You know.’ He went white to the lips ; but he echoed her laughter. * Catch again,* he said. They tossed it from one to the other, and played ball with it till the dressing-bell rang for dinner, and the sun had set. ******* The days to come were full of gaieties and amusements. She would have enjoyed them more, perhaps, if Charles had been out of London, and his stern face bad not given her an inkling of something which she missed. She would not admit that she bad missed it, but she felt the void. She felt it most when she and her future husband were alone, and the future seemed possible and seemed near. He was an old roue, rich and therefore respected. A man of the world, which loved him. A sayer of spicy things. She laughed at him, as she laughed at everything; but there was terror in that laughter, for she would gladly have realized and expressed her disgust. She had a child’s heedless curiosity, and it led her on to the end. She smiled at the wedding preparations and ridiculed the marriage service. The latter bears ridicule ill ; it is an old institution which needs faith to make it respectable. Lord Sands, however, had chosen her for her youth and her beauty, and her laughter, and these things pleased him well. Charles went to the church, and the after-reception but she didn’t appear to notice him, and she never wore his wedding gift—a handsome diamond bracelet. She looked so young and girlish on her marriage-day that the women who had envied her pitied her instead. Charles caught sight of her eyes when the old scented bridegroom bent his wizened face close to hers and kissed her in the vestry. She shrank back nervously at first, and then lifted her cheek as if to receive a blow. For one moment he triumphed ; but the feeling gave way to one of intense pain. Two weeks later, by a curious coincidence, he crossed to Paris on the same steamer. She had met some other friends on board, and he joined the group which formed a little court round her. She looked beautiful, and she talked incessantly ; but somehow be knew at once, and knew instinctively, that she had changed. The old laugh rippled in the music of the past, and as often, but it rang false ; more than that, she knew it herself, and strove to hide it. He grieved over the fact as only the girl’s mother could have done—he sorrowed for the lost childishness which had been the root of her happiness and the secret of her charm. * Charles, did yon think me a pretty bride ?’ she was saying, * everyone else said pretty things to me that day but yon. Oh, yon needn’t begin them now. It’s too late.’ He answered pityingly. * Yes, it’s too late.’ She looked at him earnestly, and then turned away. Just as they landed he went to take leave of her, and for a second they stood together, apart from the rest. * Well, Poppy,’ he said, • how goes the world ’’ She struggled, and meant to lie to him, but the truth came insteau. * I’m a mistake,* she said, and intended to add more, but her teeth were obliged to take her upper lip prisoner lest it should tremble too much. He waited, his eyes looking his sympathy. * You were serious for one moment, do you remember,

Charlie ?* She smiled at the recollection through tears. ‘And fur that one moment’s sake, I—l shall be serious all my life. It taught me what I have lost—and that means you.’ Her husband was seen approaching ; she drew back with a strange kind of shuddering horror. ‘ And I,’ Charles said hurriedly ; ‘ what of my suffering ?’ ‘ Oh, you’re all right. You're not married,* and she laughed as she gave him her band. C.S.C.