The Courier

The Pensive Lady

It was neither the season nor the hour when the park had frequenters, and it is likely that the yound lady, who was seated on one of the benches at the side of the walk, had merely obeyed a sudden impulse to sit for a while and enjoy a foretaste of coming spring.

She rested there, pensive and still.

A certain melancholy that touched her countenance must have been of recent birth for it had not yet altered the fine and youthful contours of her cheek., nor subdued the arch though resolute curve of her lips.

A tall young man came striding through the park along the path near which she sat, behind him tagged a boy carrying a suitcase, at sight of the young lady, the man's face changed to red and back to white again. 

He watched her countenance as he drew nearer, with hope and anxiety migled on his own. he passed within a few yards of her, but he saw no evidence that she was aware of his presence or existence. some fifty yards further on he suddenly stopped and sat on a bench at one side, they boy dropped the suitcase and stared at him with wondering, shrewd eyes. the young man took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. 

It was a good handkerchief, a good brow, and the young man was good to look at. he said to the boy, I want you to take a message to that young lady on that bench, tell her I am on my way to the station, to leave for San, where I shall join that Alaska hunting expedition.

Tell her that, since she has commanded me neither to speak nor to write to her.

I take this means of making one last appeal to her sense of justice, for the sake of what has been.Tell her that to condemn and discard one who has not deserved such treatment, without giving him her reasons or a chance to explain is contrary to her nature as I believe it to be.

Tell her that I have thus, to a certain degree, disobeyed her injunctions, in the hope that she may yet be inclined to see justice done, go , and tell her that. the young man dropped a half-dollar into the boy's hand.

The boy looked at him for a moment with bright, canny eyes out of a dirty, intelligent face, and then set off at a run. he approached the lady on the bench a little doubtfully, but unembarrassed.

He touched the brim of the old plaid bicycle cap perched on the back of his head. the lady looked at him coolly, without prejudice or favour.

Is He a Playboy?

Lady, he said,that gentleman on the other bench sent you a song and dance by me.if you don't know the guy, and he's trying to play some trick, say the work, and I will call a cop in three minutes. if you know him, and he's all right, then I will give you the song and dance that he gave me. the young lady betrayed a faint interest. a song and dance, she said, in a deliberate sweet voice that seemed to clothe her words in a diaphanous garment of impalable irony. a new idea, in the troubadour line, I suppose.

I ussed to know the gentleman who sent you, so I think it will hardly be necessary to call the police. you many begin your song and dance, but do not sing loudly. it is a little early yet for open, air vaudeville, and we might attract attention. said the boy, with a shrug down the length of him. you know what I mean, lady, it's not a song and dance really. he tole me to tell you he's got his clothes in that suitcase and he is lieaving for San. then he's going on up to Als. he says you told him not to send round any more love notes nor come hanging over the garden gate. he says you referred him out like a has been, and never gave him the chance to explain himself. he says you told him to go, and never said why. the  slightly awakened interest in the young lady's eyes did not abate. perhaps it was casued by either the orginality or the audacity of the man, who had found a way to get round her orders. she fixed her eye on a statue standing disconsolate in the park, and spoke into the messenger. tell the gentleman that I need not repeat to him a description of my ideals. he know what they have been and what they still are.

So far as they touch on this case, absolute loyalty and truth are the ones paramount. tell him that I have studied my own heart as well as one can, and I know its weakness as well as I do its needs. that is why I decline to hear his pleas, whatever they may be. I dod not condemn him through hearsay or doubtful evidence, and that is why I made no charge.

but since he persists in hearing what he already well knows, you may convey the matter. tell him that I entered the conservatory that evening from the rear, to cut a rose for my mother. tell him I saw him and Miss beneath the pink oleander. the tableau was pretty, but the pose the juxtaposition were too eloquent and evident to require explanation.

I felt the conservatory, and at the same time, the rose and my ideal. you may carry that song and dance to your impresario.

The Truth Revealed

I am shy on the word, lady, put me wise on that, will you?

or you may call it propinquity, or, if you like, being rather too near for one maintaining the position of an ideal.

the greavel spun from beneath the boy's ffet.

he stood by the other bench. the man's eyes interrogated him, hungrily. the boy's were shining with the impersonal zeal of the translator.the lady says she saw you in the conservatory. she side stepped in to pull some posies and you were holding this other girl nice and close. she says it looked cut, all right all right, but it made her sick. she says you'd better get busy, and get that train real quick. the young man gave a low whistle and his eyes flashed with a sudden thought. his hand flew to the inside pocket of his coat, and drew out a handful of letters. selecting one, he handed it to the boy, following it with a silver dollar from his vest pocket.

give that letter to the lady, he said, and ask her to read it, tell her that it should explain the situation. tell her that, if she had mingled a little trust with her conception of the ideal, much heartache might have been avoided. tell her that the loyalty she prizes so much has never wavered. tell her I am waiting for an anwer. the messenger stood before the lady. the gentleman says there have been had things said about him, and it is not fair, he says he's not a bad guy. and, lady, you read that letter, maybe it will explain everything. the young lady unfolded the letter, somewhat doubtfully, and read it.

I want to thank you for your most kind and opportune aid to my daughter last Friday evening, when she was overcome by an attack of her old heart trouble in the conservatory at reception. had you not been near to catch her as she fell and to render proper attention, we might have lost her. I would be glad if you would call and undertake the treatment of her case. gratefully yours. 

The young lady refolded the letter, and handed it to the boy.

The gentleman wants an answer, said the messenger, what's the world?

The lady's eyes suddenly flashed on him, bright, smiling and wet. tell that guy on the other bench, she said, with a happy, tremulous laugh, that his girl wants him.