The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-02-09
BARBARA ROYS VALENTINE.

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future in his chosen profession.
But for nearly year the young doctor had been
| growing more and more unhappy, until at last
one dull 18th of February he flung himself back
in his Office easy-chair and clasping his hands
over his head thought, with dreary yawn, that
life was very unsatisfactory business, and that
his companion on the opposite side of the table
was one of the most insufferable bores in exist
| ence although he CHANGED to be none other than
good-natured, obtuse, gossipping Bob Trelawney.
Bob had been describing a society entertain
ment, and, utterly unconscious of his victims
invisible writings, had gone on descanting on
the charms Of a caprcious BELLE beauty, and
heress known as Miss Barbara Roy
'The Gaunts brought out Lulu Lushington-a
| grand, lylnphatic, halfcas nabobs daughter
you know, Bob continued. "Of course they
meant to set up their great sleeping or doing
beauty against Bah"
Here Allan interrupted in a savage temper
| and icy tone: ''Do understand you to allude to
Miss Roy9"
Certainly" responded Bob, suavely; "Bab
| Roy; and beauty she is, too. Some of the fell
lows she had snubbed most numerically. Just
a few you know, did go over to Miss flushing
toms camp but they came back quickly enough,
| l can assure you Why, one glance out of Bah
| Roy's soft, velvet brown eyes is worth a kings
| ransom, if she only meant it-but that's the
| worst of it, she never does-and it just sets us
poor fellows wild"
Another yawn on the part of the tormented
| physician, who vouchsafed other reply.
Bob was imperturbable, and drawing sheet
of paper toward him began sketching a feminine
head with great delicacy and skill.
| Il say, Norton, he remarked, as he elaborated
the design, "arent you becoming something of
a woman Halter! 1t really seems like it to me,
| and I've heard more than one or two Of our fell
| lows say So"
eff to discover an absence of real. earnest
character, benevolence, good sense. and all else
| but flattering vanity and passion for novelty
| in the sex, makes me hater, | am one"
Allan almost snarled this ill-tempered speech
| at his friend The facts may excuse him some
| what. Barbara Roy was his very distant cousin
and his souls cherished idol. Looking back
| ward he could not remember ever seeing her
equal in beauty, grace, or intelligence 1t was
| her empty, aimless life that frenzied him-her
| assuming the throne of reigning society belle,
| and permitting her days to fly by in a round Of
| senseless pleasure-every new folly finding in
| her its readiest votary and each sensation flung
| aside like childs toy at the appearance of its
| successor.
This was the secret of Allan Norton's wretch
edness.
'Such a grand and noble woman as she
might be" he thought, when the beautiful Bar
bara went whrling by him in the park, drawn
| in phfeton as fanclful as Queen MAIDS and by
four pretty ponies. Behind her, like liveried
| mutes with folded arms hung pair of flunkies;
and on she sped, reins in hand, a marvel of
| French millinery and American beauty COM
bined
| Colby and gravely he raised his hat and bowed
in answer to her merry laugh or pouting toss,
| just as her mood might be, and then turned away
to hide his altered color the rrepressible pang
that smote his heart and left its reflection on his
| mobile face
'Dont, pray!" exclaimed Trelawney, affecting
alarm at Norton's outburst against the sex;
don't take everything in earnest; there's good
| fellow; and particularly don't blame Miss Roy
for being a butterfly, for it's rather charming
| characteristic to me-"
| VERY probably" observed Norton
"On which account l am on the point Of ask
| ing her to become Mrs. Trelawney," pursued his
to touch up pair of Psyche wings with which
he was embellishing his subject
1t was well for Allan Norton's closely-guarded
| secret that he had patients call at that moment
in the front Office. into which he slipped, leaving
the artist still celebrating his work.
Bob diletanti triher with the arts, and
finding Norton likely to be detained some time,
| he turned his attention to rhymlng on the fair
subject of his pencil, taking her name a key
note 1t seemed the easiest thing possible, and
he meant to make it rather a bright one, too; but
things do not always turn out as expected, and
the result was the following doggerel, written
| beneath a lovely female figure with Psyche
wings, surrounded by bubbles and floating
through ether in car drawn by butterflies:
| Sunlit eyes that dance with joy,
Melt in languor, then grow coy;
| Shine like gold without alloy,
| Such thy orbs, sweet Barbara Royl
| Hair that glitters to decoy
| With its silken locks to toy,
| Bright as those of Venuss boy,
| Such thy tresses, Barbara Roy.
| Lips What words can [ employ
| To express the ravished 10y
Rapture that can never cloy-
| Dare press them Barbara Roy!
"Ah," cried Treawney, charmed with the pic
ture mis- fancy evoked and tired OF the effort of
| humping his brain for rhymes, ''ah, that would
| indeed be unutterable bliss; but the deuce of
it is, she holds everybody at arms length, though
Eve sometimes fancied she thought of some I'M
| known one with a hidden sigh"
Here he sighed vacantly himself, and presently
| discovering a bored sensation he rose and, after
| lounging about the room for few moments,
| called through the Office
| Good night, Norton. I'll drop in again soon"
Then he took his departure in his usual careless,
good -humored way, running overm his mind the
| most attractive place to which he could turn his
| attention next.
1t was midnight and long after when Allan re-
| turned to the rest and quiet of his inner sane
| tum. His head was weary and his heart ached
| heavily; the last two hours had been spent be-
| side the bed of dying girl, poor consumptive
wreck of what had once been society beauty,
| and her nervous dread of the inevitable change
! before her filled his heart with intense pity for
| her and her struggle against the Great Van
| quisher At her request he had with disguised
| reluctance, undertaken to convey a message to
! her former schoolfellow and late acquaintance
in short, to none other than the beautiful Par
| bara.
ASK her to come and see me tomorrow" she
had begged most pleadngly. Il have some
thing to say to her. Promise me, o, implore
you, promise you will
And so Allan had promised. though he thought
| the morrow's sun would never rise again for her,
and dwelling on it now, his heart grew still
| heavier.
At last, as he sat musing, very, very sadly, he
drew the nearest sheet of paper toward him, and,
thinking more than looking, began to write:
Miss Barbara Roy-NIy Dear Cousin: I was called
this evening in consultation the case of Miss Laura
Bell She is dying and desires to see you. She urged
me earnestly to deliver the message that l
able TO refuse. You will pease bear in mind had