The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1899-02-01
THE
CHAPERON,

ttVadne ROSeVeare'S 8 dlStlnCllOn' She
was As, and made no sort Of secret of
the fact. though she was single. But
that to be single and n celebrity at
least puts an old maid upon a level
with wife who is nobody, is one OF
the best results of the way we live
now. She was an artist, and had
painted the picture of the year. What
was much better, she had dignified her
subject with treatment that made it,
in it's way, masterpiece. Only wo-
man sewing on coarse shirt by the
light Of a dim candle THE Slave" had
all the golden qualities of a great tri-
umph.
TO see Evadne at ball was rather
an event: her hostess saw her there
with distinct satisfaction and feeling
that her name would look well in the
printed accounts Of il: also the de-
scription of the beautiful pansy- colorcd
velvet gown she was wearing. She had
come to chaperone a pretty, newly en-
gagged niece, knowing that the task
would be easy enough. The newly en-
gagged only asked q really secluded cor
ner, and these succeeded at once in
ensconsing themselves behind a big
palm. They talked there for three
hours. for they were bad dancers. What
they said would have been dull enough
if any one else had overheard it. To
themselves it was a veritable epitomG
of wit and wisdom.
Miss Rosevcare had many friends,
but, rather to her relief. they were not
largely represented there that evening.
She, toe, wanted isolation and after u
time managed TO secure solitary seat
in one of the many splendid rooms
thrown open for sitting out, dimly
lighted with shaded lamps, and fra
grant with soft yellow roses. 1t was
the first time for years that she had
been away from home on June 18th,
1t was one of two or three secret ami
versaries that she dedicated to n time
before she had become famous or lone
ly. Since the death of her widowed
mother, when she was 26, she had lived
and worked Independently. The world
at large used to express 81 wonder she
had never married, till it grew tired of
the subject. There were two or three
men who privately acknowledged her
as their reason for being bachelors,
but people had never linked her name
with theirs. There are a few women
who inspire this kind of respectful si-
lenCe. There is a clearly defined cer-
tainty that the common joys and sor-
rows are not to be theirs. They are
apart and aloof for reasons that are
too subtle for exact analysis. Yet these
reasons are so forcble that they are
strongly felt by the most undiscern-
irg persons brought into their propin-
guilty.
she was content. even happy. EX-
cept now and then, when June came
back with warm, soft nights, and that
air which is full of voices. Her story
was simple to badness. Not in the
least fitted to make a novel. far less a
poem, in its hackneyed lack Of fresh
features. She had taken friend for
lover Then just as he gave the first
faint but unmlstakable signs, the news
came TO her that for years he had been
bound to another and an inferior wo-
man.
She had treated her love with stern
decision. She had snapped the tie even
of their friendship, broken it asunder
without word Of explanation. Better
any pain to herself than the perpetual
rpmurse of having blghted another wo-
mans life. That she dared not face.
Her firmness had the natural result
S'ltnlltH IIdlltIt ildu llldlIltu anu SllIl-
ped below his natural level to that Of
his wife. 1t so often happens. and it
happened in this instance. He had
been a painter of singular power and
promise when Evadne was but hard
working art student who betrayed
small signs of future eminence. "A
man who was sure to succeed, a girl
who was unlikely to do much" That
bn ict Of ha world NR-hnD
were young. Fate had reversed the
Judgment. Rabere retrograded; Ev-
adnc. taught by art, love and sorrow,
triumphed.
But there had been one night of utter
happiness for her before she knew the
truth. There had been one ball. one
only. when they had danced together
for the first time and the last. She had
worn heliotrope from the old garden
She wore it now, among her flashing
diamonds. The scent waited her back
to that other June. Long ago? There
is no long ago for a woman's heart.
She could recall every incident of that
night, the groups of dancers, the per-
fume of flowers. She sat there alone
with only the throbbing pulse of the
Valse rising and falling with melan-
Choly cadenCes. Susan Protheroe's g
alert. long sighted eyes were upon her,
and through the open door she made
a sketch of the well-shaped head with
its faultlessly arranged masses of gray
hair, SO that its picturesquencss was
not quite wasted.
Evadne was not thinking OF herself.
She was wondering if Stephen We're
still alive--if he We're happy-if he
were much changed She had no idea
that sorrow and renunciation had put
into her own face something rarer
than beauty. She who had not been
called pretty in her girlhood was much
admired now. Gray hair is fashion
able, and perfect dress is such an i'm
portant help to a reputation for good
looks She thought that those quiet
evenings in her own studio she had
tenderly dedicated to gentle remem-
brances of a dead joy had had none
of the bitterness that gave the old
pain new quality tonight Perhaps
she had been too much with the silly
young lovers who had rushed in a
particularly hopeless engagement which
really ought to have been frustrated.
IT was her punishment for being too
lenient to her nleces. By and by she
would be discovered and sent in to the
supper, for which she had no inclina-
ton; then she would go home. II
was so hot and so over -perfumed a
discord of scents for fresh flowers and
Bond street odors do not commingIe.
The evening seemed endlessly long.
and there was no clock in the room
The band was playing an air that