The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIII, Issue 51, 21 December 1905, Page 31

The Storyteller

A CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL

I first met Miss Agatha Jocelyn in rather a singular way. It was on a cold November morning— one of those cloudy, sharp, unpleasant days which remind one of a man with a disagreeable temper ; so uncertain, so disconcerting, so apt to blow into one's face, or trip up his heels when he least expects/it. The streets were covered with a thin, smooth sheet of ice, the result of a rain and freeze the night before, which made walking, to say the least, dangerous. But I ran recklessly down the steps and started -up the street, with the luck of fools, safely. And all went well 1 until I came to the second corner. That corner, you must know, is a trap especially laid by the fiend to supply him amusement in winter when business may chance to be dull. It slopes, an insinuating slope, clear down to the gutter, and once upon it on a slippery day there is no salvation— you must go .down. On any other morning when I was in my sane mind I would have taken the street, but that day I must needs essay the walk, and I received my deserts. Have you ever experienced the hopeless, helpless sensation of walking on a slippery slide ? The frantic struggles, inewtably tending tow* aids defeat , the odd gyrations which bring the sweat of fear to your forehead, but make the onlooker roar with laughter ? All this I felt for what seemed an age as I wriggled on that insidious slope. But, horror ! how were my anxious griefs redoubled when I saw coming around the corner, on the duplicate of my tormentor— for both streets sloped equally towards the crossing— a charming young lady who was in precisely the same predicament as I, performing the same swift and hopeless gyrations, and tending to the same inevitable goal— the slushy gutter of the street. For an instant the chivalrous idea darted through my mind of casting myself at length upon the sidewalk, and so eluding the fair one ; but the picture of my sprawling and ignominious discomfiture arose before my mmd's eye and deterred me. So with a hopeless hope we slid swiftly forward, and, though we had never met, fell instinctively into each other's arms! Then 1 stepped gracefully into the slush, gained a firmer footing, helped net pa^l thej deadly space to safer ground, and with a tew blushing apologies humedavay. This trifling incident, which should h.ive vanished at once from my thoughts, did not, but lingered there and worried me. All that cloy I saw the blushing face of my fa>r comrade in misfortune and the picture of the awkw-uJ. part that 1 had played on that blessed slope. That afternoon my friend Billy Jocelyn, who is as sociable as lam retiring, and who can talk pleasant inconsequences 1o a gul by the hour, when I would grow sleepy and stupid, and think longingly of my study-table and its tonifoi table lamp — my In end Billy, I say, bustled into my office and said : ' Confound you, you old sleepy head, why don't you ever come around and see vs 7 INIy cousin, .Miss Agatha Jocelyn, a charming girl from New York, has just ai rived to pay us a visit If I don't see you around at the house tomorrow night I'll come and bicak your infernal old study to pieces, lamp and all • ' And the energetic Billy disappeared as suddenly as he had come. Although a book and a quiet smoke had indefinitely more attractions for me than Miss Agatha Jocelyn, and indeed the "whole Jocelvn galaxy, still I was always a martyr 'to duty and to friendship. Therefore on the ensuing niaht I clad myself in the sombre garb of ceremony, buttoned my ulster close around my cars, cast a sad, lon<ring glance at the little lamp in the study, and faicd forth into the biting wind towards Billy's Whew, but it was cold ' I lemember yet with what tingling cheeks and chilly fingers I enteied the warm and plea 1 ant at mosphei c of the Jocelvn dwelling But, ye gods, how uncom r oi tably hot I suddenly iriew as Billy led me into Ihe p.ulor and said 'Cousin \gatha, my friend, "Mr MaHhew Keade ' '—for Billy's Cousin Agatha was my paitner in misfoitune of the day before. ' I think,' she said, her eyes sparkling charmingly, ' that Mr Reade and I have met before ' ; and she proceeded to tell the r tory of out encounter Ycrv prettily, too, and giving me far more credit than I deserved for the ' dexterity and courtesy with which I delivered her from thai dragon of a slide ' Actually, asi I listened I began to belie\o that I had played quite a heroic part , and when she finished by thanking me I blushed with pride I—l1 — I who had alvvavs esteemed myselt so far superior to flattery ' But alas ' How is a man to distinguish oftentimes between flattery and a just

estimation of his merits ? After all, one may, be too modest ! So that I did not feel at all offended, but sat down and talked to Miss Agatha Jocelyn with an equanimity which soon grew to interest, which rapidly upcned into real pleasure ; for she, with due * respect be it said, was not ordinary girl. She did not talk incessantly of persons, as some of the gentler sex will do, until one is bo wearied of hearing of Willie this and Bobbie that and Grace the other, that one's mental faculties droop. She did not ask me if I knew a thousand inconsequent individuals, who were at best mere names to me and devoid of all manner of interest. She did not talk of fashion nor of the giddy swarm who swing in the mazes of the haut ton— the aristocracy of lolly of our republican nation. She did not rave over actors or authors, or heroes— toys of the shifting conceits of the hour. She did not — but a truce to her negative virtues. She made a display neither of ignorance nor affected erudition. She was extreme neither in wisdom nor in folly. She punctuated her speech — O rare and admirable accomplishment in woman ! — with eloquent pauses. After that evening Billy had no further cause to complain of my lack of sociability. A month atterwards — you see that I omit, out of I'ure consideration, all the delightful events which intervened—l was — cr — enchanted with Miss Agatha Jocelyn. In fact matters had gotten to such a pass that Billie grinned meaningly evciy time we met, and said, ' She's veiy well, thank you,' with a humwrously labored air, which, to say the least, was tantalising. My studylamp was so unused to being lit that it spluttered indignantly when I occasionally sat down for a night's comfortable writing or reading. Assuredly such enchantments as mine are decidedly prejudicial to solid productive work. My volume on ' The Causes of Decadence in Nations, Ancient and Modern ' suffered woefully. I found myself wandering off into dissertations un the affections in the chapter on patriotism, and treating of platonic love under the head of ' Civic Virtues.' In shoit, I was getting into such a desperate state that I had to destroy reams of manuscript, and unconsciously scrawled ' Agatha lieade ' over the margins of nearly every page that I wrote. And down at the office — for in the day-time, you must know, lam a lawyer of the gravest and most respectable sort— l actually came very near losing the business of one of my most valuable clients by delivering a lecture, when lie (disclosed his intention of suing for a divorce, on ' the necessity of mutual fitness in the marital relation.' In short, something had to be done, and done quickly, to restore my mental equilibrium. But what ' } After going to see Miss Jocelyn on three successor nights, and spending four subsequent e\enings in staring into my study file, I resolved to piopose. IkiAinsr taken which resolution, I arose, coveied the file with ashes, as is my wont, and going to bed, slept soundly tor the fust time m four weeks. The next morning as I walked down town I eyed the lieacherous coiner with affection and inwardly reproached myself for having presented a memorial to the sticet commissioner, which had elicited fiom that prudent man an immediate promise to raise the grade proportionately. For was it not because of that blessed slope that she had fallen, as it were, into my arms at i our first eneountei ? Happy omen ' I walked more bnskly at the very thought. But as I chuckled inwardly, wondering at the acuteness with which I had slain all my difficulties at one fell stroke by resolving H> piopose to Miss Agatha Jocelyn, a thought occurred to me which made me wince and groan. From the lofty pedestal of superiority 1 had always, publicly and in pnvate, sneered at the moony and humiliating character of lo\cr. How I had derided the timid, sentimental role ot him who proposes for a lady's hand. Howl had jested, ah ! how cruelly, I now realised, with certain igood fellows of my acquaintance who had proposed, with, alas ' no favoiable consequences. In fact, shocking to think, my fust real success in a literary way v. .is a humoious essay which the editor of ' The, Weekly Hades' had ln.uherlenily accepted (in a moment of absent-mindedness, I was sine, because my former articles had resembled nothing so much as well-trainod homing pigeons — they ine\ilablv returned to their birthplace '), which had for its subject, I remembered it with remorse, ' How to Propose ! ' In my desperation I ran over its various heads in memory. I recalled that T had commenced by treating of the methods of primitive man ; the offering of the fiuits of the chase , the fierce war to the death with rival bra\(;s, the linal victory, the joy of the dusky bride at being the wife of such a wariior. Utterly inappropriate, though, to our ultra-civilised, hopeless, conventional times ' Then I had described the

ceremony of the African savage ; the approach of the ardent lover, driving his quota of fat kine, in just compensation to the parents of his intended. Equally barbaric ! And what gift would be adequate to her value ? Then 1 had descended to more cultured times. I described the .methods of Greece in her glory, of Rome in her jpower. In order, I unfolded the eruditions of the scholars upon the manners of the Goths and Huns, the Vandals and the Albigenses— those savage, yet chivalrous hordes, whom the Church moulded into the knights of thg middle ages— true, noble, generous, loving, ' bans peur et sans reproche ! ' And lastly, I had descended— -a sad descent, indeed !— from the fair and courtly gal lan try. oi the chevaliers of old to the sad degeneracy and utter lack of romance of our dull and sordid times. 'It remains,' I had concluded, ' lor some keen, noble, and enterprising spirit of our day to break asunder the absurd and ridiculous traditions of the times, which must needs have every ardent swain breathe his passion in cold and awkward speech into the lady's redennin?; ear. What a false boast must our national ingenuity appear, if it cannot suggest some newer, more fitting, less ludicrous manner of making so poetic and lofty a thing as a proposal of marriage ! ' Alas ! these words, written in jest, returned to reproach me. I recalled how I had received for them, from the absent-minded editor, an insignificant note, which I threw away, and a cheque, which I kept. Butthe confounded thing had had some success, and was not yet entirely forgotten. It was only a week ago— l winced at the thought— that some coy maiden had told nw that she would like to hear how I would really make a. proposal, since I could write one so prettily. In short, taking all things into account, I decided that I must do Ihe thing artistically and in a novel way. But how ? Genius of Invention, how ? My mind was destitute of ideas ; my spirit faltered at the task before it ; when, raising my eyes from the ground, I s>aw- for I had got ten well into the business district— a window gorgeously decked out in which was represented good old Sant* Claus distributing all manner of resplendent Christmas gifts. Happy inspiration ! Could I not propose by means of a Christmas gift ? Thereafter I haunted the windows of stores devoted to alluring wares by the hour. I went through the whole catalogue of Christmas possibilities, one by one I tried the patience of the most suave and obliging clerks of both sexes by remarking to each of their sug gestions, ' too personal,' or ' too familiar,' ab the caso might be, leaving them to puzzle their brains angrily as to what was familiar about a diamond biooch or what was personal in a golden scent bottle. And I was an noyed by the smiling amusement which my acquaintance!, — bound most probably on a similar errand— displayed when they saw me poking over cases of women's trifling, jewels. They little dreamed of the biilliant coup that I meditated. At last, desperate after a week of such toiture, I dc cided upon — a ring. True, a ring is the most common and conventional of lovers' tokens. But mine was redeemed from the commonplace by the inscription which, with much hesitation, I ordered carved within it : < Will— you— be— mine 9 '—explaining to the astonished clerk that 'it was— cr— a jest !"— as if one jests with rings of price ! Let me pass over in silence the various emotions which wrung my soul during the short week which elapsed before the time armed at which to present my gift. Suffice it to say that on Christmas Eve I wrote, in a too trembling hand, on a card a couplet worthy o! the occasion. Then I called a messenger boy— faithful and ready servant !— and dismissed him with the precious packet. And then I waited. The night wore on. Fiom my study window I could see the houses of my neighbors, lit and swept and garnished for the feast. On the street the crowd of festive wayfarers, laden with bundles and joy, ebbed and vanished into their various snug "harbois I isaw a Christmas tree being decked for the monow, and realized how lonely is the bachelor's lot ' I fell into a reverie on the joys and genial ninth of the merry and boly season, and grew actually cheerful , then sighed 1o think how inappropriate it all might be Finally I went to bed, and after ages of ages fell asleep. I awoke with a start. Was it time for Ihe postman yet ? Not for three hours. I arose and strolled out into the a ; r. The postman came and passed and entered not T blamed his forgetfulness and halloed after him, but ho had nothing. I went to the post-office— nothing there. Nothing, that is, save the proof-sheets of ' The Cause" of Decadence in Nations, etc ,' which ordinarily would havo given me the keenest pleasure, but now filled me with deep disgust. What did I care about the decadence of nations ? But I took it home and after going to

church, where I prayed with fervor for a certaif Christmas gift, I returned home and worked steadily all of Christmas Day at the proof-sheets, slashing them so that the printer must have stared. In fact, I 'believe that it is to my savage humor on that day and the following that the book owes its commended incisiveness of style. The next day I continued pegging away viciously at the proof, and as before, the postman passed unregarded. Then I grew desperate. I searched out that messenger boy and denounced him. But they showed me a receipt written in Billy's sprawling hand. My last hope gone, I went down slowly to the office, a saddened and a broken man. Old Dr. Burdy meb me and asked me il I didn't think I needed a tonic ! Biffins, the insurance man, crossed my path, and for the first time in five years didn't beg me to take out a policy in the "Crumbling Insecurity Co.,' ' safest on earth.' I reached the office at last and stared at one spot on the ceiling for a solid hour. Then a brisk step sounded in the corridor, the door snapped open, and Billy rushed in. Billy never comes and goes, he always bursts in and rushes out. 1 Hello, old foggy ! ' said he, ' look as sick as if you'd swallowed a frog. Brace up, man ; your bank hasn't failed, has it ? ' I turned a dull eye on him, and he lcsumed : 'I'm awfully sorry that I didn't get around sooner to tell you, but the old man has been sick, and I,' and Billy's "form grew more erect, ' am running the business ; three hundred men under me (lower floor, you know), and I couldn't , but Miss Jocclyn's uncle died suddenly, and she is gone.' ' Gone ! ' said I hoarsely, jumping up and seizing his arm in a frantic grasp. ' Did she get my— present? 1 lOh ' ' said Billy. ' No— that is, yes, I suppose she has by this time. It came after she left, and I mailed it to her. Why, what is the matter with you ? ' For I had fallen back in my chair, and was mopping my face with my handkerchief. ' Don't you trust the mail, you idiot ? ' yelled Billy. ' Why what was that— the Koh-i-noor ? Anyhow, I registered it ;it can't be lost!' ' No, no, Billy,' said T faintly, ' it's not that. I was afraid '—just then the office door clicked open again, and a messenger boy briskly entered. ' Telegram for you, sir,' said he , ' sign here, please ! ' I took the yellow envelope, while Billy sprawled a signature, on the boy's book. One look at the telegram was enough ; I was transported. It said : ' Yes. ' Agatha Jocelyn.' Oh, crumpled, yellow telegraph blank, spattered with ink, marked by oily fingeis, you weie far more delightful in mine eyes than the golden pages of poesy or the yellow wealth of kings ' Dear Agatha ' ' Billy,' said I, beaming bughtly upon that surprised \oung man, 'congratulate me, my boy; I'm going to be your cousin ! ' Now there are two who love the little lamp in the study, which burns stendilv above them, night after night. From where I write, within the circle of its rays, I can sec that very ring, glittering merrily on her finger. Magic ring ! you did your errand well. — ' Catholic World.'

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