The Monmouth inquirer., 1896-02-20
HER MISTAKE.

HER MISTAKE.
she was plump, but dainty, with q neat
fgure and round rosy face. She wore
black cape over a gray skirt, and carried a
queer little dogs cared volume entitled
"Hymnodys Her eyes were big and soft.
She had an Irish mouth and Welsh chin,
with q dimple IN it,
We met, for the first and last time, on
the towing path between Windsor and
sStaines. noticed her when she was quite
q hundred yards away, and admired her
grace of movement. Thetowing path was
narrow and rugged just at that point, so
that we touched elbows as we passed and
our eyes met. Immediately she uttered
little cry and fixed pair of pince nez
across her nose.
''Why, it's Jackl'' she cried. How are
YOU, Jack? Where have you been all these
yearsg And what have you been doing?'
My name is Arthur, but her hand was
too small and soft to relinquish with un-
necessary suddenness.
81 knew you at once'i she affirmed. II
can't say think the mustache an i'm
provement.
"NoP'' murmured doubtfully.
mo. II has taken all the character out
af your face"
felt quite sorry for her She would be
so confused / still held her hand.
'sWell, " she said, screwing her eyebrows,
Hand what have you done since saw you
last-acquired modesty?"
It would be very awkward.
AN-nob exactlvr [ stamnered
She laughed.
s'I'll walk with you as far as Windsor
she said. Il suppose you are going to
Windsor2 Or will you walk with me to
Staines? just as you like. am living at
Staines now, you known little room
overlooking the river--at pound sterling
per week inclusive--occasional use of the
parlor.
''Oh, look at the skyl'' she cried sud
denly. 'All those sprawling gray dragons
in bas relief against the blue. Isn't it
wonderful? Yet they say my skies are i'm
possible. Nothing is impossible, Jack, Is
it?''
Nothing, except to contradict you"
Even that was not impossible in the
sdd days"
There was another silence ii lasted till
we reached Stanes. / was grateful for the
pause We stopped outside a white, fiat
fronted house facing the river l held
forth my hand.
Oh, nonsense, Jack, she said, lyon
must come in and see the parloY.
We went into the house The street
door was not locked. The parlor was a
small, ugly, comfortable room, with big
bowl of flowers in the window, athwart
which fell a band of yellow sunshine.
II want TO show you some of my poor
little pictures.
We went into her room, large apart
ment, lighted from above. A modest lit
tie bed was in the corner, squeezed away
into the mirk as if rest had but small
part in the life of its owner. At the head
of the bed was a small mirror and other
toilet accessories on q white draped dress
ing table. AT it's foot stood a deal wash
stand. In the center of the room sprawled
great yellow easel bearing canvas.
There were other easels and canyases dis
tributed throughout the room, and plaster
casts and clay figures, all the usual para
phernalia Of The painters craft added.
The little lady snatched down the large
canvas from the great yellow easel and
stood il with its face to the wall.
Not that, " she said "That is "a study
in failures. | will show you something
more modest" She went to stack of
pictures in the corner See here, ? she
said, holding up tiny sketch before me-
Light ON the Bar, more modest still.
And here, throwing me an odd glance,
compounded of coquetry and laughing
doubt, is a picture the subject of which
is not modest
She put her hand on my arm and led me
TO the center of the room Then she gave
.,fa+ int
portrait of man, strangely resembling
myself, drawn in the style Of the Dutch
school, with the light concentrated on the
eyes and brow.
Do you like its" she asked me-
1T is wonderful 2 l whispered
4 did it just-just after that night, .
she said.
was troubled at heart, for there was
a note other than the mocking note Of
light comedy in her voice. I feared the
trend Of the situation was toward perhaps
tragedy.
1T seems so strange that we should
meet again like this" she said, "'and YET
not strange. For our corner of the world
is very little place, after all You have
grown very old and manly and grave
Jack. am just beginning to realize that
now. | didn't at first. You mustn't
think that mean to be rude toyou, Jack
Perhaps hardly ought to call you Jack >
Yes, l said eagerly, "caIl me Jack 2
THANK you, Jack, !" she murmured,
beaming. " You are dear old boy The
Same old Jack was sure you wouIdn'i
mind, Jack.
Yes. .
'Did--did it--did / hurt you much
Jack, that night? You know, / hadn't
thought Of you in that way at ALL 1t came
ON me so suddenly. And my art was sc
much to me- TO marry meant to give II
up, you see And, then, didn't under
stand myself, and you were so fierce and
foolish and wild have wondered ever
since that had the courage to refuse you,
Jack, you were such splendid tempest OF
boy"
| was filed with contfition and shame.
Pray, pray don't speak of it, . said.