Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, September 6, 1903, Page 34

(Copyright, 1203, by Lawrence Perry.) OUNG CHALMERS had spent just three weeks at the home of his flancee, Miss Bangs, to whom he had become engnged at one of the resorts along the Maine coast the previous summer, when it suddenly occurred to him that they were about the Queecrest engaged couple there ever was— or certainly that he had ever seen. This ftmpression grew rapidly until it assumed all the proportions of an uncomfortable certainty. They got up about as much emotion over each other as might be exe pected in a brother and sister, That Danger, Miss Bangs' polo pony, was the cause of it all he had little doubt, He knew that clearly—quite. He never thought that he would become jealous of & dumb animal, but now he had to con- fess that it w even 80 It cut him to the soul when she lavished her carcsses on the viclous little beast, and he had grown so tired of hearing her relate the numerous times that the pony had taken barriers which most of the hunters re- fused, of how he had once run fifteen miles for a celebrated surgeon and back again, of his sagacity and endearing qualities and the like, that he felt like running away to some country like Venice, where he belicved horsas were quite unknown, The trouble was that voung Chalmers’ lfe and environment had been about gs eity is different from the average New different from Miss Bangs' as New York England suburb. She lived in a town not ®0 far from Boston, which was as thor- oughly anglicized as a Massachusetts town could well be, which is to say very much. There were estates, including miles of land bounded by box hedges or stone walls, gate keepers in rustic lodges, pretty lanes, manor houses, cold white churches, and, above all, the dearest of rivers, with sketches of meadow land on either side and drooping trees along the banks, Visit- ing Ingiishmen exclaimed when they saw it, saying, how very like, and this was mmwardly regarded as the highest compli- ment that could be bestowed. Iiveryone kept open house and everyone went in for the accepted eports, They had a rattling good polo team, and a hunt club and a boating ciub and many other things. All the young women were fairly proficient in these sports—excepting, of course, polo, and indeed some of them had exhibited some little skill in the management of ponies when they wielded the mallet In scrub games. But it must be confessed that they did all this not only because they liked to, but because it brought them more frequently in contact with a bully Jot of distinetly eligible young men than would otherwise have been the case, which #s nothing against them, to be sure. Now, Miss Bangs, to go back a little, loved these sports absolutely for them- selves, and on two occasions Danger landed ber first among the hounds velping about the end of the anise seed trail. She always insisted on paddling her own canoe along the river, and rhe had so many golf trophies ° that s sgtored a number of them in the attic. &he had broken the polo pony to huarness, just for the fun of it, and was the only person who could drive him. The young men declared her to be the jolliest good fellow imaginable, and she had never lacked for all sorts of attention—even the dances. She was not a good dancer, But when they fell in love it was always with some other girl, which seemed quite natural to Miss Bangs, who congratulated them heartily and sincercly and thought noe more about it Her friends said this was too bad, for she was o dear, sweet girl, with no end of good looks. It really did seem too bad that she would rather put on the gloves with her brothers—whose football and eiew records ai Harvard she knew by heart—than dance all night; or that she would don a corduroy suit and plug across eountry with a fellow than idle under the frees In a filmy gown with him. When she was 25 there were several doubts that she would ever marry; four years later they sald she was absolutely hopeless. Then she announced her engagement to Chalmers and every one gasped with astonishment and wondered what sort of a chap he was, Chalmers was a young lawyer who had Mdentified himself sirongly with the latest of the great reform movements which oc- casionally agitate the metropolls, and had gained some little reputation for elo- quence, which, If it had no other resuilt, tended to increase his practice. He worked too hard to go In for sports to any extent, but not 80 many years ago he had been a swift and sandy end at a ocertain wuni- versity in a little town not far from New York. But after his graduation Chalmers, if you except an occasional Baturday in the golf links, or a cross-country walk, left his athletic career at the university, He had never ridden horseback in his life and was a miserable driver. Perhaps it was the great contrast In thelr lives that attracted Chalmers and Miss Bangs. He nev." had been especially at ease with young women, but Miss Bangs and her straightforward, matter- eof-fact ways, and the easy terms of fellow- ship on which she met him, worked a mar- velous transformation. As for her, she was obliged to confess—when it became A Short Story “by Lawrence Perry “CHALMERS RAISED THE WHIP AND LASHED THE APPROACHING HORSES ACROSS THE FACES LIKE A MADMAN.” necessary to think of such thing—that Chalmers appealed to her wonderfully. She liked his incisive ways, his clear, clean-cut views on all subjects and his manliness, He had the air of a man who had babitually done things and gets them out of the way, and what she had heard of him verified that impression. So finally it came that she decided in a most syl- logistic manner that she loved him. They became engaged. Although Chalmers felt a very clear-cut jealousy for the polo pony, it cannot ba sald that his other impressions were well defined. That was the trouble. He would not say that their relalions were perfunc- affection. But surely he was moved by strange emotions which, however, he barely understood. Miss Bangs took things as a matter of course, and when she went off to follow the drag, she left Chalmers at home with a book, or let him loaf around the country club without a compunction. Kven Chal- mers’ love for Miss Bangs would not in- duce him to ride after her, which, perhapn was just as well for his neck. When she returned, flushed from the ride, with her surrounding escort of redcoats she would tap him on the cheek and say: *“You poor boy, were you lonely? You don't know what you miss by not riding,” or something like that. You see, Chalmers did not meet her in everything. If she thought about that she did not mention it, nor did it seem to worry her. Chalmers did not mention it, efither, Late each afternoon she took him driving in her little meadowbrook cart—never ate tached to the faithful old sorrel which the rest of the family used. This was the worst of all He was rapidly becoming quite irritated at her apology, invariably delivered as soon as William let go the bridle. “Now, dear, don't mind iIf I don't talk to you for a half hour, or so. Danger Is frightfully skittish.” There would follow a long, grum silence, as Miss DBangs deftly manipulated the reins and plied the animal with terms of endearment. This afternoon Danger was unusually skittish, and Miss Bangs unusoally tender to Danger, consequently this stipulated half hour of exclusive attention to the steed was lengthened almost a full hour, Chalmers sat grimly silent looking hard at the flying landscape. “Don't do that, sweelhesr:,” she would say when the pony broke. *“Now, boy— don't, sweetheart, please,” and so on until the pony resumed his swinging trot. Chal- mers wished she would talk to him that way. He thought he could talk that way to her if he dared. Then her voice would break in again, “Sweetheart, won't you ve good? Whoa, who-0-0-a, who-0-0-0-a, darling, be good, won’'t you? Oh, don't do that! That's it, my precious—that's a good boy." Finally, when she did turn to him, Chal- mers' face was very serious. ““Helen, do you really love me?"' he g “Love you? Why, of course I love VOou— more than the whole world. What a ques- tion! What is the matter?" “I don't know; but I must say I believe you don't love me as much as you love Danger,” persisted Chalmers. “Do you know what you are saying, Jack?"" exclaimed Miss Bangs, “I think T do,"” replied Chalmers, dogged- ly. “‘Somehow you are different with Dan- ger than with me. I am silly, I know, but I get fearfully jealous sometimes.* Miss Bangs turned squarely and looked at him with a serious face. “I have thought of that,” she said. *I fear I am a failure as a fiancee—that is, from your viewpoint. No, there is no use in saying anything, Jack; yo1 know it is s0. Yet I can understand huw you feel. I suppose we don’'t meet or all things,” she cortinued rapidly, as thcagh anxious to get the thought from her mind. “You don't understand; I was brought up with horses; they have been a great part of my life, and you—you are absolutely afraid of them.” “l was afraid you were going to say that, sweetheart.” . “But,” persisted Miss Bangs, as though she had not heard him, “I do love you, even if we don’t meet in all things. Horses are not the whole world. We do have so many things Iin common, you know—you do know that, don't you, Jack?™ But Chalmers had a great deal of pride, and it hurt him that he should play, what he considered, second fiddle to a horse. So he looked straight ahead, grimly silent. Miss Bangs was full of pride, too, and this was bad for both of them. “Very well,” she said, coldly. “It had come to be a most unpleasant drive now. Miss Bangs gave her entire attention tu the pony, and Chalmers con- tinued to gaze gloomily at the distant hills, Down toward the river road they went, and soon the little shimmering stream, dotted with canoes, and the pleasant meadows on either side, came in view. Chalmers wondered what had happened to make it all seam so commonplace. He was dying to say something, but he did no@ wish to appear foolich, and her mouth was apparently sealed to him forever, Both were very much engrossoed in their own thoughts. So much so that they did not notice a man standing at the sharp turn which the river road made into the main road motioning frantically for them to pull up. Then he shouted, but when Miss Bangs looked up the pony had al- ready swerved out for the turn. She took the situation in at a glance, and her face blanched as she threw all her strength in a desperate wrench at the reins. They were half turned in the middle of the main road, and the team of runaway horses, attached to a heavy express wagon, were coming squarely at them. There was no one in the seat; the horses' tongues were hanging out, and the cumbersome wagon swayed like a ship in a seaway. In a second it would be on them. The pony, sulking at the sudden pull at the bit in his tender wmouth, was turning too slowly, and Miss Bangs lashed him with the whips Chalmers’ mind worked like lightning, In the time it takes the flash to leap across the sky he had considered and dismissed the chances of seizing the girl and jumping from the cart. or throwing her out and taking his chances. But they were shut in by the trap-like seat. Buddenly he stood up and snatched the whip from her hands. The great wagon pole and the plunging horses were within a few feet of them. Leaning far out Chalmers raised the whip and lashed the approacliing horses across their faces with the fury of & madman. Slash, slash, slash, the whip cut the air and fell against their faces like a rain of hail, It was a forlorn hope, but the only hepe. The maddenel team swerved under the cutting shower, and the wagon swept past with not an eighth of an inch to spare. Chalmers sunk back In his ceat, and seizing the reins from his companion's nerveless hands drove silently home. Once the pony tried to bolt, and Chalmers, with the venom of ali his days of suffering, nearly pulled him iato the cart. Misg Bangs noticed that. That evening, having dressed for dinner, Chalmers stood in the library absently fingering a pile of books. The door opened, and he turned just as Miss Bangs threw her arms around his neck with & low cry, He drew her close and she rested her head agamst his heart. Suddenly she drew back and looked him full in the eyes and smiied. “My sweetheart,” she sald