Democratic Sentinel, Volume 7, Number 14, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 May 1883 — IN HALF AN HOUR. [ARTICLE]

IN HALF AN HOUR.

"Just wait for us a little while 1 We will come back in half an hour I” Norah and Bob had said, and they had gone •off into the little wood, hand-in-hand, like two children. So Missy was left quite alone, to move herself backward and forward in the swing, and feeling herself, to say truth, rather left out. Why had they wanted to go off by themselves, she wondered ? It was so strange of Norah, when her brother had just telegraphed to say that he was coming down that afternoon to see her. How odd, too, that they sdould want to get away from her! Missy was not accustomed to ibeing neglected. Hitherto she had always been first with Bob, and first with Norah, but since Norah and Bob had become acquainted things had assumed a very different aspect, and the intense friendship which had sprung up between these two threatened ’to extinguish Missy altogether. Missy did not like it, but as yet she had no comprehension of its full significance, no due appreciation of the calamity which had befallen her. At present, she was only aware that Bob preferred Norah’s company to hers, and that Norah—perfidious Norah!—evidently liked Bob’s society better than that of her dearest friend. It was very disagreeable, and, to put an end to the unpleasant thought, Missy called up her favorite subject of meditation, and began to 'weave afresh the romantic web of fancy which encircled the person of the wondrous being of the future who waa on his wny to woo and win her virgin heart

She was very young —only 17—and the assertion of even those few years seemed belied by her childish appearance. But she was very pretty, and she made a charming picture, as she sat in the swing in her strawberry-colored dress and large bonnet, with her deep, serious eyes fixed on the little gate opening into the wood, and her red lips half smiling as some sweet imagination passed through her mind. So at least thought a young man who was coming noiselessly toward her along the dahlia-bord-ered grasswalk, and who did not fail to mark the beauty of her profile and the grace of her movements as she stirred herself lazily to and fro by the help of her daintily-shod foot. Advancing quietly in front of her he lifted his hat. She was not slow to perceive who he must.be. “You are Norah’s brother —you are Mr. O’Hagan,” she said, simply. “Norah has gone into the wood with Bob for half an hour. Will you wait for them?” Mr. O’Hagan had no objection to wait. He threw himself down on a garden seat close by and sat looking at the girl, who continued her half-uncon-scious motion, with an expression on bar face which betrayed a degree of shyneps. She felt, indeed, that she ought to speak, but eventually it was Mr. O’Hagan who took the initiative. “You seem delightfully situated here,” he said. “Have you lived in this place always?” “Yes; it belongs to Bob, my brother,” replied Missy, briefly. “Then you are Missy, of whom I have often heard.” “Yes, I am Missy. And you are Norah’s eldest brother, the barrister, of whom I have often heard.” “Why have Norah and your brother gone away without you?” asked Mr. O’Hagan, abruptly. “I do not know,” returned Missy. “But you must know!” said Mr. O’Hagan, in a tone of gentle authority. "Norah is vour guest, audit is not usual for young ladies to go about alone with /their friends’ brothers.” “Norah is doing nothing unusual,” cried Missy, flushing angrily; for, though she was very unhappy, she did not. choose that Mr. O’Hagan should find fault. “Bob is Norah’s own friend, and Aunt Caroline sees no harm in anything they do. They are very fond of each other.” “So it would appear,” said Mr. O’Hagan, dryly. He was somewhat annoyed. He had received an ambiguous letter from his sister that morning which had made him think it advisable he should try and find out what she was doing, and now he had come to try and she had vanished. But she had left a substitute, and to this substitute, after a moment’s pause, Mr. O’Hagan turned. “You must be very glad,” he said, “that your friend and your brother are such allies. Is he your only brother ?” “ Yes, ” replied Missy, with a profound sigh. “Bob is my only brother, and Norah is my only friend. But lam not very glad they are such friends. They like to play chess, and that is a game -that three cannot play; and they like to drive in the dog-cart, and only two can sit in front.” “And now they like to go alone into the wood?” suggested Mr. O'Hagan. "Yes, it is a preserve, you know, and A* '.-4a' ....... . ..

Bob thought it would disturb the pheasants if three people went through talking, but he said he and Norah would walk along quietly and speak very softly.” “Oh!” said Mr. O’Hagan,, with a lengthened intonation. “ Why do you say ‘Oh’ like that ?” cried Missy, pettishly. She felt glad that Bob was not like Norah’s brother, who was so old—thirty, at the very least, he must be—and who asked such strange questions and made such singular ejaculations. “Miss Missy —may I call you Miss Missy?” asked Mr. O’Hagan gravely. “Just as you like,” she said, indifferently. “Very well, then,” he proceeded. “Miss Missy, I want evidence upon a certain matter. The swing is the wit-ness-box and you are in the swing; ergo, you are the witness. Now, with nature looking so so fair about you, with the sky so blue above you, the cool green woods waving to your right, and the gorgeous dahliaS smiling to your left, you feel undoubtedly that you could not possibly speak an untruth; hence you are committed to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Now I commence.” Missy gazed at her interlocutor with wide and astonished eyes. She checked the restless vibrations of the swing, and pressed her feet firmly on the ground, while she encircled the ropes with her arms, clasping her hands before her. She was puzzled, but not displeased. A lovelier witness the young man thought he had never seen. “Miss Missy,” he began, “do you know what flirting is?” “Yes,” said Missy, promptly. “Then define flirting.” “I did not say I could define it,” said Missy, with a little appearance of pouting.

“Then you do not know what flirting is?” “Yes, I do,” cried Missy. “Flirting is when two people seem to like each other very much, and to live only tor each other, and then they part ana forget one another altogether.” “And their intercourse leaves no mark?” “No, they have only been amused.” “But suppose they have been more than amused—suppose their association has left a mark?” “Then they have been in earnest.” “And what is the result of being in earnest?” “It is love,” said Missy, in a low, sweet voice. She glanced downward and was completely unaware that Mr. O’Hagan’s gaze was fixed upon her, and still less was she aware that his breast was swelling with an uncalled-for indignat.on on her account. His was an imaginative nature, prone to leap to superlative possibilities, and something in Missy’s youthfulness, beauty and naivete had made him jump to a possibility of the most exaggerated evil. At this moment he found himself speculating about some man who might some day be only amused with this innocent creature, while she, perchance, might be in earnest. “I would horsewhip such a fellow within an inch of his life, ” he said, wrathfully, in his heart. Then he suddenly remembered that, as far as he knew, there was no such man, and he smiled contemptuously at his. own fantastic conceit. Moreover the present was all his own.

“What is love, M'ss Missy?” he asked, abruptly. “Love is when the beautiful youth comes,” she said, still looking away. “And who is the beautiful youth?”he inquired. He felt curious to know whether a young man of 26 or 27 years, not bad-looking—oh, by no means badlooking—and not altogether stupid, certainly with some prospects of professional sueeess, might be looked upon as a beautiful youth. Perhaps a tinge of unsuspected jealousy unwittingly heightened his curiosity. A sort of glow diffused itself over Missy’s face; her vision seemed to be lost in the dim recesses of the little chase; her whole manner seemed to bespeak a state of ecstatic feeling. “The beautiful youth,” she said slowly and pensively, “is all glorious to behold, like the early sun in summer, or like the splendor of the apple orchards when the fruit is ripe. He is a peerless knight, clothed with dignity and virtue and truth, and a burning fire goes out of his heart and consumes all iniquity as he passes by. He goes through the world like Sigurd, redressing every wrong, and the hearts of the people trust in him, and when he speaks, or even when he comes near, men and women are happier and better, and little children are gladder and holier. His locks are bright, as if the sun had kissed them, and his eyes are calm and pure, as if the stars sojourned within them. His hands are mighty, like the resistless north wind, and his feet are rapid, like the rushing of many rivers, and his heart is deep—deep like the unfathomed sea. ”

“And ?” uttered the young man breathlessly. He was amazed at Missy’s gush of poetic fervor, and he longed for her to continue. He knew well that in speech was danger. A word might break the spell; but a breath—a breath might compass his desire. “If I hung for it, I would kill the fellow who played her false!” he thought. “And one day,”- Missy proceeded dreamily, “one day he will come to find me. Perhaps he will come in the vernal sunshine, and thrushes and blackbirds will carol as he draws nigh, and pale, shy primroses and the fragrant cowslips and the nodding violets will spring around his feet as he moves, and great joy will be in his soul. Or perhaps he will come through the fields when the com is golden, and clusters of nuts will garland his head and rich purple plums will fill his hands, and poppies will spread a regal carpet for his feet, and gladness will be in his mien. Or perhaps he will come at dewy eve, rowing over the tranquil mere, and pearls will drip from his oars, and lilybuds will follow in his wake, and he will come to shore where the forget-me-nots are bluest, and a tender peace will be upon him. And he will recognize me, and know that his destiny has arrived, and he will rejoice—rejoice. And we two shall link our hands together, and a thrill of sympathy will unite us for ever, and time will be lost in the eternity of our bliss.” She ceased, and her chin dropped till it rested on her folded hands. He remained silent; he was disappointed. He felt it was utterly prosaic to be a barrister—to be business-like and busy —to have briefs and clients —to be astute and practical. He could never attain the perfections of the beautiful youth. No sun would ever condescend to kiss his curly Jiair; no star would ever vouchsafe to abide in his merry eyes; no flowers w«uld ever be induced to spring up round his trim and wellmade boots, He must go on in the ordinary v»y and look for no poetlo termi-

nation to his career. He was hopelessly commonplace—merely a barrister; there was nothing Sigurdlike about him. “But I will strangle that fellow!” he exclaimed, vindictively. He hardly knew whether he was referring to the man who, in a possible future, might be amused at Missy’s expense, or to the beautiful youth; hekuew not at all that he had spoken aloud. “What fellow? Who are you talking of?” exclaimed Missy, starting. “Are you speaking of the beautiful youth ? Have I been talking of him all this time ?” she cried, in an agony. “Oh, what have I done ? What shall Ido ? I have told you my secret, and I shall never, never be happy again. Why did you draw me on to talk and tell you all about him? I never meant to tell you anything, and now you have led me on to convict myself. Aunt Caroline says barristers always make people convict themselves, and you are a barrister. You are a bad man 1” She had got out of the swing when first she began to speak; now she walked slowly away between the rows of dahlias. When she had gone halfway, however, she turned back, and Mr. O’Hagan went to meet her. “You will please come in-doors,” she said, coldly. “If Aunt Caroline happened to be out when you arrived I dare say she has returned now. ” She seemed suddenly transformed from an elfin child into a dignified woman. In days that came after—and that came without Mr. O’Hagan being under the necessity of laying violent hands upon any other man—he recollected this little scene —the outburst of childish passion and the instinctive womanly control which ensued—and loved to dwell upon it. He felt now as if a jury had found him guilty, but he resolved to try and say one word in his own defense.

“Miss Missy,” he began, contritely, “I only wanted to talk to you about Norah and your brother;! never meant to vex you.” “I do not care to talk to you about people, Mr. O’Hagan,” said Missy, severely. “If you like we can talk about the Irish question, or the Egyptian war, or ‘lolanthe,’ but I do not wish to talk about persons.” “But I must learn something about my sister, ” said Mr. O’Hagan. “What about her?” asked Missy, relenting a little. “I want to know whether she and your brother are in earnest, or if they are only amused.” “I do not know. You had better ask Norah and my brother themselves. I do not desire to commit myself any further,” said Missy, grandly. “Miss Missy,” said Mr. O’Hagan, humbly, and altering his line of action, “I plead guilty to your charge. I have done a mean thing, and all I can venture to say for myself is that your conversa ion so enchanted me that I could not bear to interrupt you. Is that any extenuation in your eyes ?” She did not answer; her lips were yet tremulous and her eyes moist with recent agitat on, but the hardness had gone out of her face. Noting this, Mr. O’Hagan pushed his advantage. “I am covered with shame at the thought of my baseness,” he went on. “But almo-t before I realized that y®u were reposing a confidence in me the confidence was already mine. Mss Missy, I beg your pardon a thousand times. I cannot undo what is done, but perhaps it may mitigate your distress to be assured that your secret is absolutely safe with me. I shall never reveal it to a human being. ”

“You are very kind,” she said, sorrowfully. “But it will never be the same to me a ain. Nobody knew—not Bob, nor Norah. It was my one fair secret, and the thought of it consoled me whenever I was sad or alone. It was my rosy dream, which stood ever, like a tender angel, by my side, and it lulled me to sleep in the night and brought me joy in the morning; and now—” “And now,” said Mr. O’Hagan, gently, “though some one else knows your secret it is some one who honors it and would fain be like your ideal. lam not such a very bad man, Miss Missy. Don’t you remeihber, Portia was a barrister, and she redressed a great wrong? We barristers do try to act justly, I assure you. Won’t you think kindly of me when your mind is occupied with your sweet secret?” he added, imploringly. “I have a dream, too, and an unspoken secret, and when they are present with me I shall think of you—perpetually.” “You have a dream ? What is your dream like, I wonder!” said Missy, wistfully. “My dream!” he answered. “It is of the most beautiful damsel who walks this earth; she is sweeter than Juliet, and nobler than Cordelia, more winning than Rosalind, more charming than Beatrice.”

“She must be impossible,” interrupted Missy, smiling and amused in spite of herself. “ The inexpressive She, truly 1” Mr. O’Hagan opened his lips to speak, and then checked himself. But he felt convinced that his inexpressive She was a far likelier possibility than Missy’s beautiful youth. Nay, did she not stand before him, and was he not prepared to slay fifty men who might dare a treachery to her ? “Some day I will tell you about her,” he said, “and you shall say whether my secret be fair and my dream bright. It shall stand or fall by your verdict. And now that I have discovered my secret longing, will you forgive me?” “Yes, indeed,” she said readily. She was not resentful. But she did not quite undersand Mr. O’Hagan. She knew no longing with respect to the beautiful youth; she was satisfied he would come, and she was content to wait. But this damsel of whom Mr. O’Hagan spoke was an evident absurdity, and perhaps this unnecessary longing was a natural sequence to an absurdity. Men are often ridiculous outside their offices and studies; she had heard Aunt Caroline say so. However, it was not unpleasant to feel that this man was less wise than herself. Besides, poor fellow! he would never find his damsel, and she ought to be sorry for him. They were still standing at the top of the grass walk, and now Missy turned around. “There are Norah aud Bob coming out of the woods,” she said. “See how happy they look! Bob looks taller, or older, or prouder—l don’t know what —but he seems different to me. What can,it be, Mr. O’Hagan? And Norah seems younger and prettier I And there is something glistening on her finger—it looks like a jewele'd ring—but she had no ring on this morning! And they are talking so jealously together that they do not see us! They look as if a fairy had given them some shining treasure. What is it, Mr. O’Hagan? It is like a Michaelmas afternoon’s dream.”

“Miss Missy,” said Mr. O’Hagan, oracularly. “I think Norah has met the beautiful youth, and I think Bob has realized his rosy dream and unveiled his fair secret.” “Then is every one alike?” murmured Missy, regretfully. “Has every one a fair secret and a rosy dream ?’ “Every one, I hope—nearly every one, I believe,” said Mr. O’Hagan. “Let us go and meet them. They have not been only amused, they have been in earnest.” And the prim dahlias did not turn aside, but smiled proudly, as the two who had played their little drama among them met those other two who had been unfolding sweet secrets in the wood for half an hour.