New Britain Herald Newspaper, September 10, 1924, Page 16

b T WAS summertime when Mavis fell in love with Patrick Hulbert and secretly gloried in his prowess in all the manlier pastimes of the season And if England, like other lands, had been a country of perennial summer, she might bave gone on glorifying in her superman and in the envy of her friends. But summer, with its open-alr joys, went the way of all summers, and on the bedrag- gled gipsy skirt of autumn came the dancing season then it was that Mavis was conscious of the first pang of disappointment concerning her heau-ideal, Pat couldn't That was the tr He could do just everything else, and he was just everything else that a desirable man should indeed, in onme another, after the way of lovers, they had found embodied all the attributes found in all lovers of the world in all the ages—but that made no difference. He d not dance, and, this being so, he just fell from grace. And he fell with a bump ‘which hurt his pride and left him vith a feeling that he was not all-sufi- cient Her reference to the first big dance of the season ¢ . of all unfortunates times, upon the ever her hirthday, the very evening whic! at tacit understanding which exise, octween lovers, had been earmarked as a ng and appropriate opportunity for a proposal And, instead of seeing the seal set upon his huppiness, Pat felt the rude breath of a chill 1 which brought down his castle of dreams like a house of cardh. U awfully sorry, dear,” he said. ““I )l told yon before, but it never ente.ed iy nd Jut T always was an awiul Jdufter at dancing. I've tried time after time, but I'm just hopeless. An elephant could waltz better than I do. I'm more sorty than I can say." I\, AVIS was looking down into the fire. Her lovely lower lip was held pensively by bLer white teeth. Her disappointment was obvious “'T just love dancing,'" she said, ‘‘What a pity you haven't gone in for it." “I'm desperately sorry,” returned Pat lamely You see, knowing I was a poor dancer 1 just kept away from it. Once op twice of course I have not been able to escape, but it has heen just agony—real, phrsical agons—for my partner, an agony of mind to 1 As far as I can recollect no woman has danced with me the second time “Look at the pleasure you have missed,’” Marvis put in. “I suppose it is pleasure to those who are good dancers. But I always feel so heavy anc kward. I ought to have been & wildeanan of the woods. I can only do crude out-of-door things. I'm hopeless at parlor tricks—'" “You cull dancing a parlor trick?”’ she asked him with a touch of coldness, Something in her tone warned him to When, for the third time he said he was sorry, he began to feel that he was cutting a very poor figure. He blamed himself for not having foreseen that Mavis o dance. He ought to have had some lessons. Mavis was silent for a while, but presently she went on. tread wa would expect hi ““Well, I don't intend to give up dancing, Pat If you can't dance you must not mind if I go to dances with Ronald Barfoot. We danced together all last season.” Then Pat saw red. His worship of Mavis was great-h and intense. She had become part of his very being, and she held his happiness in the palm of her dainty hand. The revelation that the uid of another man was necessary to make Mavis com- pletely happy stabbed him to the depths of his heart like a blade of cold steel. It is useless for reason to argue that it is absurd and childlike to be jealous love, arted The greater the the greater the jealousy. Generous and large-hearted, Pat strove to conquer tha demon that mocked him, but he eould not. It was more than mental anguish; it was physical pain, a nausea which gripped and hurt him. And all the while he was telling himself t if the woman he loved desired pleasures that he could not give her, he must find it in his heart not to bar the way to her happiness, but smilingly intrust her to the care of another. fn his agony he sank into a chair, his temples obbing, his lips so parched that when he tried to tell her that he must bow to the inevitable, he could not frame the words “‘You're very quiet,”’ said Mavis, ‘“What is wrong?"’ Pat moistened his lips and spoke with an effort, but his voice betrayed his emotion. “Nothing, really,”” he said, ‘‘Nothing when I think of it sanely, but—well, it just burt me a little to feel that T am not all sufficient for your happiness.” Mavis leaned back and clasped her knees with interlocked fingers I believe,”” she said, ‘‘you're jealou: Secretly she knew that he was. Secretly she rejoiced because of it. A woman may tell a man that he is absurd to be jealous, but she will be very sorry and just a little bit doubtful about the sincerity of his affection if the demon does not poke his head out once in a while. For the demon is Cupid's half brother, and his job is to keep Cupid on the Jump Pat parried the thras “Well ] Her handke ed a danger signal Goslon Sussex and Pat's uneasiness grew more acute. He tried to soothe her with soft words, hoping to fend off the storm cloud which hung about them. But she would have none of it. She loved this man, loved him intensely ; she hated to hurt him, but something within ber, which she could not control, goaded her to an outburst which was as foreign to her nature as it sounded unreal and un- believable to the man she loved. “Stupid! That's exactly it! Stupid and jealous! All men are the same. You call women the weaker sex! Weaker! We're far stronger and far more reasonable than men! You only think of yourselves and how things will affect you, you don’t think of our feelings. I can see what will happen. Every time I mention a dance there will be a row, and I couldn’t stand that, and I won't stand it. I've never had to ask anybody yet whether I can do what I want to do, and I'm not going to begin now—"" Pat, in an agony of apprehension, had risen. Intense pain was written upon every feature of his fine face, his head and shoulders were swaying in a curious, helpless sort of way, and the arms he held in suppli- cation toward her seemed to be groping for some invisible support to lay hold upon. “Mavis—'' he pleaded. She sprang from her chair and moved away. Then turned upon him a face white with unreasoning anger—a face so different from the face he loved that it seemed like the fantastic creation of a torturing dream. “Don’t come near me!" she cried. ““Don’t touch me! T couldn't bear it!" “But, darling—tonight, tonight I was going to—— You know what happineds I bad hoped for—tonight!"’ She laughed—a frozen, far-away laugh, the laugh of hysteria, and without a word, ran from the room He followed her to the door and called to her, but she was gone, and, a dazed and broken man, he returned to the fireside and fell again into his chair, passing his hand wearily across his forehead A great bouquet of tied with ribbons of silk, had sent her earlier in the day stood near her empty hothouse Lloome which he chair, and the grinning head of a tiger- skin rug mocked him in the silence and solitude of the great room Presently she came back filled with a resolve to ask forgiveness, but the resolve weakened even before she had reached her chair, and instead of speaking those little words which would have eased the pain for both of them avoided his gaze and, looking down into the fire, just shidt SWell?? The word was a challenge and it hurt, but be let it pass Little woman,'" he said, “‘let's try and forget eversthing except our love. That is strong—strong enough to help us over rough me. but your happiness—"' Then Mavis, desiring nothing so much as 0 open her arms and hold this great-hearted man tightly to her, shattered the pinnacle of happiness which he was even then hold- ing out for her to take. “And yet you object to my dancing—just because you do mot dance yourself! Your selfighness is unworthy of you, Pat!" He shut his eses tightly and pressed his teeth upon his lip, like a man stifling a ery. He saw the uselessness of attempting recon- ciliation now. When the spasm had passed and he had regained a measure of self- control he spoke again : “Mavis. We are both overwrought. We must not say anything that is going to hurt, and it is better that I should go now before we do. Tomorrow I have to go North; I'll write you from there. I shall be away a week or so. #That will give us time to see things in their true perspective. Kiss me good-by, dear—"' But Mavis turned away from him. “I think you are perfectly horrid,’’ she said. “Those words do mot come from your heart, dear,”’ he returned very gently. ‘‘We both know that. It is only because I want to spare you pain, the pain of regretting, that I am going." And he took her hand, pressed it Yo his lips and left her, closing the door ever so gently behind him. HEN to Mavis, left alone with her thoughts, came the bitterness of regrets too long delayed. At that moment she could have been hugging to her breast a thrilling delight, the delight that comes to a maid with the declaration of a man's love and with the answer which places her forever in that man's keeping. And instead, she had to nurse but a bedraggled torment of sor- row. The telephone on the little Chippendale escritoire broke in upon her reverie, and languidly she moved toward the instrument It was Ronald, asking if he might take her to the dance—the first dance that mat- tered—of the season? The voice which an- swered him sounded like the voice of the gladdest woman alive, the voice of a gay butterfly of & woman with no thought for anything in the whole wide world but thoughts of pleasure. And Ronald, in a fool's paradise, con gratulated himself when she said he might, which he would have been far from doing had he been able at that moment to see the drawn features of this ‘“‘butterfly’” girl or been able to glimpse even deeper into the very soul of her And at the big dance, and at other dances which , followed, Ronald went on con- gratulating himself and Mavis went on en- places. Let me take the blame, and forgive couraging him to do so, knowing all the Believe me, I have no other thought. while that. she was showing to him her wnreal and artificial self. And perhaps there were very real grounds for Mavis' apparently declining interest in Pat, for Pat's visits to her home certainly had become less frequent. The reasons he gave in explanation were far from satis- factory. The qualms of a woman in love cannot be stilled indefinitely by veiled refer- ences to the demands of lodge nights, mys- terfous and hitherto unheard-of relatives and strangely timed business appointments. But actuslly, where the issue is still in the balance, a woman's interest in a man increases proportionately as his interest in ber appears to decrease—a fact which should give heart to the most timid of wooers. When evidence of the love of a man begins to wane, the woman looks first of all for the reason, and it is very disturbing to her peace of mind if she eannot discover it. 1t was her turn to be jealous now, for although she could discover no grounds for her suspicion, intuition told ber there was another woman in the case. UT she gave no sign of her feelings; in- and, she veiled them completely by entering more fully into the whirl of gayety, with Ronald as her escort. That any barrier had arisen between her- self and Pat would not have been apparent to the closest of observers, for by tacit agreement the subject of dancing was never mentioned between them. A tiny silken flag of truce hid the fly in the amber of their friendship, but the fiy was there, nevertheless, and its presence caused Pat to stay hie hand, so that it was not until the end of the dancing season was in sight that the delayed proposal loomed again upon the horizon, e Curiously enough, it was Ronald him- gelf who hastened matters. In quite a frank, friendly manner he went to Pat and declared his, love for Mavis. “‘But,”” he went on, ‘knowing every- thing—knowing that, if vou had been a dancing man, you and she migh? have been engaged long ago—I just had to come and gee you first. Of course it is for Mavis to chioose, but I think we will agree on this point, that we are equally concerned about ler happiness.”’ Pat nodded. *‘And what do you propose?"’ “I do not want to propose anything," returned the other, “‘but I simply wish to suggest tbat, for the happiness of all three of us it is time to settle this matter once and for all. We cannot go on indefinitely like this, can we? All I want to say is this: that I want to ask Mavis to be my wife, but I will not do so until you, who have a prior claim, have made your declara- tion to her. Go in and win, old man, and if you win I shall wish you the best of luck and pass out of your lives. But if her an- ewer is not final, will you tell me, and let me try my luck?"’ Pat extended his hand. ““You're quite right, Ron,” he said, “I'll ask her tonight. If she does not accept me right away, I'll let you know. 1 agree that it is better for all concerned that an Copyright, 1924, by Public Ledger Company revolves. 4 issue should be sought. seeing her again?'" ““Weo have a dance appointment for to- morrow night,"" returned Ronald, *‘If any hope remains for me, I'll ask her then." Next morning a dismal Pat rang Ronald up and told him' that Mavis was thinking it over. 4 “‘Which means,’’ came back Ronald's reply, “‘that I may go ahead?’ “Yes,' groaned Pat, ‘‘and may the best man win!" Ronald “‘went abead” but he made little When are you She laughed—a frozen, faraway laugh, the laugh of hysteria—and wit_hout a word ran from the room more progress of an encouraging narure than had been Pat's fate. Mavis told him that she would like time to make up her mind, and promised to write in the course of a day or so. And with that Ronald had to be content. ACED with the necessity of answerir}f t¥o proposals, Mavis found the task before her one which occasifned long and searching consideration. In her heart of hearts she knew where happiness lay, but all the while, at the back of her mind lurked a determination to ‘‘stand up for her rights,”” as she mentally expressed it. The fact that Ronald's proposal had been made at a dance, with all its exciting and romantic atmosphere helped out by the al- luring strains of the orchestra, a setting in which the girl's pleasure-loving nature found full expression—this fact gave to the pro- posal an inflated valve, and while she recognized it ag that, she could not shut her eyes to the fact that, amid such scenes she was radiantly happy. Pleasures, even arti- ficial pleasures, seemed to be her birthright. It seemed to her, as she sat alone in her room after the dance, that she had two separate and totaily different personalities, And perhaps because the flush of the eve- ning's excitement was still upon her, not without some qualms of uncertainty, she penned a letter to Ronald. Ron, Dear, she wrote. As promised, I am writing about our little talk. I feel that I can never express the sur-- prise I felt on receiving your proposal, and I ought to tell you at once that * ¢ * this offer has made me just the happiest woman in the world, and I feel ever 80 proud to be able to consider my- eelf engaged to the man I love with all my heart It has all been very disturbing, but I can see that it will be easier for all con- cerned now ¢ ¢ ¢ I am definitely engaged. It is not every woman's privilege to receive two offers of marriage almost simultaneously, and I want you to be- lieve that I very fully appreciate the honor done me. Pat and ‘T have had our differences, but now *g* * I have made up my mind I truft that the past with all its dreams will be forgotten and that we shall still be friends. Just MAVIS. Then, with a little sigh of relief she read through the epistle, dotted one or two * and crossed one or two ‘‘t's”’ and, as an afterthought, scribbled a number at the bead of each page. And it was in the last act that, instead of making Ronald the hap- piest man alive, she quite unwittingly made him one of the most miserable. For, by the accidental numbering of pages two and three out of their order, this is how the letter read when Ronald: opened it: Ron, Dear—As promised, I am writing you about our little talk. I feel that I can never express the sur- prise I felt on receiving your proposal, and I ought to tell you at once that * ¢ ¢ T am definitely engaged. P) It is not every woman's privilege to receive two offers of marrjage almost si- multaneously, and I want you to believe that 1 very fully appreciate the honor done me Pat and I have had our differences, but now ¢ * * = HE Goddess of Fortune sometimes mixes in our mun- dane affairs and prevents errors which would have ' wrecked our lives, One of these strange {wists we call luck is the pivot about which this entertaining story this offer has made me just the happlest woman in_the world, cs di 1 feel ever so usi proud to be able t» der mysell gaged to the man I love with all my heart, 1t has all been very disturbing, but I can see that it will be easier for all con- cerned now * * * have made up :ly mind K!ut;.\u‘t thn:t the p;l: h:t“?n“ll 1 reams Wi orgotten an still b8 friends. Just MAVIS. ONALD took the blow as a sportsman should. Theve it was—her answer—in black and white, plainly telling him that she already was engaged. He scarcely stopped to ask himself why Mavis had not given him an inkling of her intention to accept Pat and so have ended the matter without prolonging the suspense. But the puzzle did fl through his mind, and it made him just a little angry with Mavis, It made him feel that she was playing with him and it _hurt his pride. But the very burt helped him in his resolution to pass out of the lives of the two who, on the evidence of the fateful letter, were now betrothed. / He had long experienced a desire to travel and. see the world, In traveling he could learn to forget. In a few days he would be on. his way, leaving his successful rival with a field frée of embarrassment. And, consoling himselt with these reflections, he scribbled a note to Pat, which ran: Dear Pat: Ihn‘ve lon.tl AT t of luck. I wish you the bes RONALD. P. 8.—As an afterthought, I am in- closing her letter. I don’t know whether by so doing I am acting strictly within the rules of the game, but I can't help feeling that perhaps you w'onld like to ses how whole-hearted Mavis is—in iour favor, . As Pat read the two epistles his shaken faith in women was reborn in him with & new and astounding vigor. Certainly, for a moment, he wondered why Mavis had not written him the glad news direct, but now he saw why she had not done so. She was waiting his coming that very evening, to tell him with her own lips! Joy untold welled within him at the thought. He would go to her earlier than usual—go now, just as he was, * ¢ * 2 ER letter once posted, Mavis, instead of sensing a feeling of satisfaction that the whole perplexing problem had been set- tled once and for all, gradually became a prey to haunting doubts. In the light of calmer reasoning on the morning after the dance, her decision in favor of Ronald Bar- foot did not appear to have been sufficiently well-considered. All day Mavis fretted, all day she weighed in the balance the qualities of the two mem who had wooed her and the gifts of happi- ness which each could shower upon her. Momentarily she expected Ronald to come triumphantly to claim her. And when finally she heard a maid admitting a caller she. was sure that it was he, All undecided how to recetve him, she waited. But it was Pat who strode proudly into the room an@ hastened to her side. There was gladness in his eyes and his arms were flung wide to recejve her. She felt bewil- dered and was conscious of intense sorrow for him. Of course, he did not know—yet. But he must know now, know that she had accepted his rival, and she must tell him, But how? She turned away her head as he neared her, but he interpreted the movement aw & pretty and natural display of maidenty mod- esty. Now his strong arms were about her and he was showering kisses upon her scented hair. In his embrace she felt won- drously secure; he was so strong and he seemed to understand. * * * If only she had accepted him, how happy she would be at that moment, instead of which once more she had to shatter that shining pin- nacle of happiness—forever! Very gently she disengaged herself and, still looking away, she began: “‘Pat, dear, I hate myself for having to hurt you, but—but I—we must not—give way like this."” “But why, dear?' he asked, looking at bér queerly. ‘‘Haven't you made me the bappiest man in the world?"’ It was her turn now to look perplexed. *‘Pat—what do you mean? How have J made you happy? 1 have told you nothing. I meant to have written to you—to have spared you—this!" He took her hand and held it in both of his, while with tremulous joy he asked her: *‘What does that matter? You have given Ron his answer and—well, dear, I learned the glad news from him. He was the first to congratulate me and, good fellow, he sent me your letter as proof of his good fellow- ship." Not-yet could Mavis face him. It was difficult enough, without that, to speak nat- urally when she asked: “‘My letter? Oh, of course. got the letter now?” ““‘Why, yes. Here it is,’”” and he brought it from his pocket. “May I see it?'' she asked. She took it from him and by the light of a rose-shaded lamp she scanned it. And then it was that, turning the pages hurriedly, she read the letter as Ronald and Pat had read it—as a letter rejecting Ronald's suit and telling of her love for Pat. The thing was there, beyond argument. When she had numbered the pages fate had guided her pen, giving to the letter a meaning totally different from what she had intended at the time, but which, miracu- lously, exactly reflected the promptings of ber heart now. In a flash, understanding of the riddle had come to her and, being a woman, she just murmured : “‘And you are happy, Pat?" There is a joy which does not permit of the spoken word, a joy Which shakes the strongest man, thrilling the woman whe loves him. - In such a manner does the soul speak te its twin eoul, and Mavis; hearing its ery, knew that joy had come to her. Have you