Evening Star Newspaper, January 18, 1931, Page 85

INGTON, D. C, JANUARY 18 M51. 13 ory of an Imaginary Fiancce—BY DANA BURNET himself up. “Not at all. . A gentleman at ARLY the next afternoon Dick arrived st Sylvia’s cottage prepared, so he thought, for all eventualities. He greeted Sylvia by gracefully kissing her hand. ‘Then, setting erect and indomitable on the Nving room sofa, Aunt Jane advanced to the sttack. “Set down, William! Set down, Sylvia! I want to tall: to you two!” Dick and Sylvia sat down. “There!” said the old lady. “Now, I want to know the reason why you two don’t get mar- Dick looked at Sylvia. “It's very simple, Aunt Jane,” he said. “You've noticed, haven’t you, that Sylvia isn't wearing an engagement ring? Well, I haven't given her a ring because I can’t afford it. And we can’t get married for the same reason. I'm a poor man, Aunt Jane.” “Poor!” exclaimed the spinster. She turned her steely glance on her niece. “I thought you wrote me, Sylvia, that William was a million- aire!” Sylvia swallowed quickly, and said: “I did— and he was!—till lately. But he—he got caught in the panic and lost everything. He’s still sort of stunned. That's why he came down here to Virginia—to try to get over——" “Shucks!” said Aunt Jane. “If it’s nothin’ but money, there's no reason why we can’t have the weddin’' tomorrow, before I leave for Filoridy. I got a million or so of my own. The bulk of it'll be Sylvia’s some day, so you two might's well have the use of it now. You got pen and ink handy, Sylvia?” “Pen and ink?” queried Sylvia. “I want to write a check,” said Aunt Jane, Fising majestically from the sofa. “But, Aunt Jane——!"” gasped Sylvia. “Aunt Jane——!"” said Dick. Aunt Jane ignored them. She had spotted Bylvia's writing desk in a corner of the room. She made for it with long strides, sat down at it, drew from some recess in her costume & checkbook and reached for Sylvia's pen. Sylvia sat staring fixedly at her back. Aunt Jane rose. “Here's a check,” she said, “for $50,000. I've made it out to you, Wil- liam, so's you won't feel shy ’bout marryin’ an heiress. It's my weddin’ present to you, young man.” “But—good heavens! I can't——" “You take it this minute!” said Aunt Jane. She thrust the check into his nerveless fingers. “Now go and kiss Sylvia, and let me see if you mean it.” He advanced, feeling dazed, and took Sylvia in his arms. Then something happened. A curions, quick joy possessed him. Involuntarily his arms tightened around her. “Oh!” breathed Sylvia. “I mean it,” said Dick, and kissed her. “Let me go!” Aunt Jane stepped forward. “We're goin’ down t’ the village, right now, to get your wed- din’ license—and you’ll be married tomorrow!” That night, in the spring house on the mountain side, two worried young people met to confer. “What are we going to do?” asked Sylvia. “I don’t know,” said Dick. “Maybe we'd bet- ter rehearse some more?” “No! We must think!” “I'm thinking.” “Of what?"” “Of how bright your hair is.” “Oh, please,” said Sylvia. “Sorry, but ever since I kissed you this after- noon I've felt sort of——" “Sort of what?” “Vague,” said Dick. “But you can’t, you mustn't! Don't you realize that we're supposed to be married to- morrow noon? Oh, it's all too ridiculous! I've & good mind to tell Aunt Jane the truth.” “Wait a minute,” said Dick. “I've got it! IFH . have an attack of something, and be too ill to marry you tomorrow.” “What’ll you have an attack of?” “Well, let’s see. . . . How about a nervous breakdown?” “Yes! I think a nervous breakdown would be all right.” “In that case,” said Dick, “I'll start having #t now. Would you mind kissing me?” “Why should I?” “Because victims of neurasthenia always need sympathy and affection.” “No, I won't kiss you! You’d only get vague again! And, please, Dick, I don’t feel like struggling.” “Then why struggle?” he said. His arm was around her shoulders. He drew her toward him. “Tomorrow,” he argued, “I'll be shut up in my room, having William’s " nervous breakdown. I'll probably never see you again.” “Yes, you will! I'll come to see you!” “Sylvia!” “No, because——" “Because what?” “Because nothing,” said Sylvia. He took away his arm. She sat silent, mo- tionless, beside him. The moon had crept arcund the spring house till now its light fell directly upon them. Sylvia shivered, as if the moon had made her cold. Then suddenly she straightened up, put her arms around Dick and kissed him. “With sincere sympathy and thanks from 8ylvia,” she said, and, jumping to her feet, ran out of the spring house. Dick sat as if hypnotized, staring intently at the moon. AT 10 o'clock the next morning young Mr, Ballard proceeded to have his nervous breakdown. He had it in Sylvia’s cottage, where he had gone for that express purpose, and his initial seizure was a great success. It consisted of a general feeling of depression, and @ specific inclination toward suicide. “I'm not good enough for Sylvia,” declared the sufferer, in tragic fones. ‘“I've decided to kill myself!” ( He sank into a and covered his face with his hands. Sylvia| knelt hurriedly beside him. Aunt Jane stood staring in amazement at them. ' “My Jand!” she said. Whatever's come over you, William?” b “Melancholia,” said Sylvia. ““He’s been sub- Ject to it lately.” “Well, I never!” said Aunt Jane. “Brace up, William! You're goin’ to be married in two hours, You got bridegroom’s fever, that's all.” “Oh, no, Aunt Jane!” cried Sylvia. “It’s much more serious than that. You see, Wil- liam was so stunned by losing his fortune——" Dick lifted his head. “Let me go. I want to end it all!” He started unsteadily for the door. But Aunt Jane clutched him. “You ain’t goin’ out o' this house, William, with such loony thoughts in your head. Maybe you are sick. But you'll stay right here with us, where we can look after you. Sylvie, I'll move in with you, and William can have my room. We'll send up to the hotel for his things.” “But, Aunt Jane! You're leaving tonight for “Stuff and nonsense!” said Aunt Jane. “Do you think I'm goin’ to leave you here alone, with William all broken down on your hands?” The adamant spinster stalked out of the liv- ing room. Sylvia and Dick looked at each other. “Why don’t you run for it?” she said. “I don’t know! Somehow I can't see you explaining to Aunt Jane. And then, I've a certain sporting interest in the fate of William. Do you want me to go?” She shook her head. “No-o-o! I don't ex- actly want you to——1” Dick grinned at her. “In that case,” he said, “will you kindly show me to my room?” The indisposition of William, nee Richard, lasted for only a few days. But his conva- lescence extended over a period of two weeks. It became a kind of siege, with Aunt Jane in the role of the besieger, and Dick, assisted by Sylvia, in role of the besieged. At the end of that time, Aunt Jane was still firmly intrenched in her position, Sylvia looked pale and thin, and Dick looked rested to the point of exhaustion. “See here,” he said to Sylvia one morning as they were having breakfast on the porch of the cottage (Aunt Jane was out tramping the mountains), “I'm licked. I can’t go on con- valescing any longer. It's killing me.” “It’s killing me, too,” said Sylvia. “Two whole weeks! And I've still no idea what to do, unless you jilt me at the altar. I mean unless William jilts me—" “No,” said Dick. “William is a cad, but he isn’t a heroic cad. When he got to the altar, he'd act like any other man, and marry you in spite of his nobler instincts.” She flared up, suddenly. “You will make a joke of it!” s;\e said. “But—good’ heavens!” said Dick. “It is a joke, isn’t it?” “Yes, of course, it is. I'm—sorry,” she re- plied hastily. He looked at her; and then off across the sunlit valley. “I had & talk with Aunt Jane last night,” he said. “She’s still determined that I shall marry you.” “I know,” said Sylvia. “I had a little talk with her myself last night.” “We can’'t put off the crisis another day,” Dick said. “In fact, I demand a crisis, Sylvia!” “So do 1,” she asserted. ‘There was a brief silence. “You know,” said Dick finally, “I've been thinking it might be amusing to complete the joke, and——" “And what?” “Get married just to fool Aunt Janel!” Sylvia laughed. It was rather a shaky laugh. “To fool Aunt Jane? But what about fooling ourselves?” “Oh, we wouldn't have to stay married,” answered Dick. “I'd give you a divorce * * * whenever you wanted it.” “Whenever I—? And you think I'd ac- cept such a sacrifice?” Dick made deprecatory gesture. “It would be a pleasure,” he said. “Then when your novel is published I can stick out my chest and say: ‘I know that girl. I was once slightly married $6 her.”” Sylvia leaned toward him and said quietly: “You really are a hopefessly frivolous person, aren’t you?” D \?\—ir ) \\) /i N H ! RN ~.l\.\.\§m\.\\“\m A “Oh, please, Mr. Ballard! You’ll shink I'm crasy, bus—while my aunt's hevo— won’t you be William?” “I told you I was!” Dick's eyes had a gleam of anger in them now. “If you don't like that idea,” he said, “I've got another one. You said you wanted to bring on a crisis, didn’t you?” “I did—and I do!” “All right. Then we must have a quarrel. When Aunt Jane comes back from her walk, I'll be furiously packing my bag, and you'll be in your room, sobbing. You'll tell her I'm a cad and a scoundrel and I'll rush out of the door shouting that you've destroyed my dearest illusions, and that I never want to see you again. And that,” concluded Dick, “will be the end, the absolute finish, of William!” “It sounds very nice and—and dramatic,” said Sylvia. Suddenly she rose. “Where are you going?” asked Dick. “Just into my room,” said Sylvia, “to—to practice sobbing!” She disappeared into the house. Dick .sa8 still for a moment, puzzling over the queer note in her voice. Then he got up and followed her. The door of her room was closed. He knocked. “Sylvia!” he cried. A muffied voice answered him. “Go away! Please! I hate you!"™ Dick stepped back from the door. He glanced indecisively around the living room. On the wall over the mantel hung Sylvia’s shotgun. The sight of it galvanized him into action. He went into his own room, pulled his traveling bag out from under the bed and began hure riedly to pack. He had scarcely finished when a commanding voice called: “Sylvie! William!” Dick picked up his bag and walked out into the living room. Aunt Jane looked at him. “William!” she said. “What are you doin’ with that bag i your hand?” “I'm leaving,” said Dick. “No, you ain't,” said the spinster, placidly. “You're goin’ to stay right here and marry Sylvie.” “Aunt Jane, I can’t! It's no use. We've had & quarrel, and——" Hz stopped, aware of an ominous strategic movement on the part of Aunt Jane. De= liberately turning her back on him, she walked to the fireplace and took down from its pegs on the wall the fateful shotgun. A box of shells stood on the table. Quickly selecting two, she broke the gun and shoved the shells into place. Dick watched her, fascinated. There was & sharp click as the breech closed. e 8 “William,” said the daughter of the pioneers, facing her victim, “this is your weddin’ day, and you might’s well know it. I've telephoned for a minister to come up hére and marry you and Sylvie right away. He’s bringin’ two wit- messes. They’ll be along any minute now.” “But, Aunt Jane,” pleaded Dick. “Young man,” interrupted the hardy spine ster, fingering the triggers of the gun, “I never thought I'd have to take a shotgun to you and Sylvie, but I've wrote the whole town of Belvi- dere, Wis.,, that she’s goin’ to marr you—and marry you she will.” “Sorry! But I know you’re only bluffing,” said Dick, and started for the door. In a flash Aunt Jane threw the gun to her shoulder. “Halt, William!” she cried. “Or I'll shoot!” “Oh, no!” implored a breathless voice from the door of Sylvia’s room. “Aunt Jane! Put down that gun! Dick! I mean William!” Dick turned, and saw Sylvia standing on the threshold of the }iving room. Her eyes were red. But they were also shining. ‘“Sylvial” “Aunt Jane wil] shoot! She really will.” “I really will!” snapped Aunt Jane. “Oh, dear!” wailed Sylvia, coming forward, “I guess I'll just hav . to marry you, William!” Dick drew himself up. “Not at all,” he said. “A gentleman at least knows how to die. Good-by, Sylvia! Good-by, Aunt——! Great Scott! There’s some one coming up the walk! A man—and two womemt” “It's the minister and his witnesses,” ane nounced Aunt Jane. She dropped her gun to port arms, and looked triumphantly at the two young people. “I” just step into Sylvie’s room,” she said, “where I can watch the ceremony without bein’ seen. I'll stand back o' the door with this fowlin’ piece in my hands. And don't you fore get for one minute that I've got the drop omn you, William!” With which final warning, Aunt Jane shoule dered her gun and marched into the next room, Immediately there came a knock on the front door. Sylvia and Dick exchanged startled glances. Then both moved forward, as one, to greet the minister who was to marry them. LA’I‘E that evening, Aunt Jane departed, in grim satisfaction, for Florida. Still later that evening, Sylvia and Dick walked up the mountain to the spring house. They sat down on the bench and looked at each other in the light of the waning moon. “We're married,” he said. “It’s incredible, but we are.” “I know it,” said Sylvia; and then: “Oh, Dick! I've got an awful confession to make to you. I haven’t played fair! Last night, when 1 was talking to Aunt Jane, I did something dreadful.” “You told her,” he guessed, “that I wasn% William?” “No, I never told her that. I just told her I was 80 In love with you that I'd die if I couldn’t have you—" “Sylvia!” “—but I didn’'t think you loved me. I mean really! 8o I—I begged Aunt Jane to find some way to get you to marry me! It was I who put her up to that ghastly shotgun wed- ding, and I'm so ashamed——!” “Wait,” said Dick. “Wait a minute. You Ssay you put Aunt Jane up to that shotgun wedding of ours?” “Yes, I did, I did!” Dick took her face between his hands. He Jooked earnestly into her eyes. Then he puf :mmbr,mdhughedmdm