People's Pilot, Volume 5, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 November 1895 — “PRINCE CHARMING.' [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

“PRINCE CHARMING.'

'■ COLD winter day (([ ] in the park, and a f fog in the city. A /// man, walking with rj ' I a military step and erect ' sear i n g. was . recognized by a pretty girl, who drove past him in ww,* a phaeton with two . splendid horses. The man scarcely

glanced at her; he raised his hat with his eyes on the boy at her side. The boy was a pretty, fair creature, with a foolish face; the kind of man the end of this century coins, and regrets its coinage. The girl was worth something better, the man thought. Himself, perhaps. He had an old-fashioned mind, and old-fashioned honor. Modern women will never mold such a man. His mother and his sisters lived in a big place in the north of England. He had drifted into the larger world of London life, and knocked about, as most men must; but, somehow, the best of him, including a sneaking, timid reverence for a few good women, had never been xjuite rubbed off. The girl was the pretty Miss Barnes, and he had met her at a Christmas house-party in the country. He thought she snubbed him, and that she mistook his attentions for idle flirting, such as a man considers necessary in the company of a much-admired woman. He thought also, “that boy will amuse her; he can design her a new frock, and knows her favorite cigarettes. lam too old, and I’m out of the game.” His vanity needed soothing, so he went to call on an old friend. She sat in a dimly lighted drawingroom; it was heavy with perfumes and exotics. She wore a becoming teagown and her dyed hair looked its best in the glow shining through the rose-col-ored lamp shades. “Dear Ronald,” she cried, “I’m quite delighted to see you. What a traunt You have been! Sit near the fire and get warm. Isn’t it freezing to-day?”

The slight pressure of her hands as she seized his took his meipory back to a year ago, when her charms and her flattery had been wine to him. “Hope you are well and having a good time, Mrs. Jack,” he replied. “How is everybody? I’vq been away, you know.” “Is that an explanation of your desertion?” He nodded. “Oh! I heard another tale.” He moved uneasily. “You hear •everything. Is Jack at home?” “He’s gone to the club. Did you come to see Jack?” “No, I came to see you.” She smiled. “You may smoke if you like. Shall I give you a cup of tea?” “Yes, please.” He was ill at ease; the old atmosphere stifled him, and her evident pleasure at getting him back made him realize that he had come back, and it brought a queer, uncomfortable feeling of shame. “You were riding in the Row yesterday,” she remarked, as she handed him a cup. “Yes. Were you there?” “I was, but you didn’t see me. You were too much engaged to waste time -or eyes on an old friend.” “Don’t talk like that.” He spoke brusquely. “Where was I?” “You were following Miss Barnes, tho girl everyone has gone mad about.” “Have they?” “What a question! As if you had no •cars. Draw your chair nearer mine— I mean nearer the fire. Now we are quite cozy. You look very Well and horribly young, whereas I wear more shabby every day.” He laughed. “What rubbish, Bertha!” She smiled and looked at his eyes. “I shall bleach my hair white and take to something antique, like morals, or a tlrara. I shall go in for church work, distribute tracts, admit I have a girl of 16, and become a chaperon, In jpurple velvet and old lace.’ ’ “My dear Bertha!” “Don’t you like the picture? I do. After all, it will be a new role, and I am tired of pretending to be more fast than I am. It’s chic to be naughty nowadays, unless you’re a music hall artist and marry a lord; then one has to be horribly virtuous.” “How absurd you are!” He smiled, easily amused. “My hands positively appear middleaged. Look at them.” She held one toward him, and he touched it for a second, the sparkle of diamonds blinding him. She spoke timidly. “You used to think them very pretty, Ronald.” He flushed scarlet.

**l do still” But his hand relaxed, u if her fingers burnt him. His eyes were on the fire, hers on his face. And into hers crept a look, in which baffled vanity and spite were ippermost She changed her mood, as me changes a much worn dress which *ias ceased to be becoming. “And so you are madly in love, Ronald ?” He stared violently. “In love?” “Report says so. And with a baby, fresh from her nursery bread and milk.” “What on earth do you mean?” “You know quite well. But it’s hopeless, my dear boy, quite hopeless.” He said nothing, but he hated her from that moment, as he had never hated any woman. Perhaps she intended that he should. Sometimes, when a woman fails to charm, she is §lad to wound. Both deeds give a sense as power. “You see, I know all about it,” she continued. “You met in the country; she told the whole story to my aunt, Mrs. Marker ” “She told. What do you mean?” “We are talking about Miss Barnes.” He showed he was hit, as a man will never do to another man. The woman, being low in his respect, did not matter. He spoke very quietly. “Yes, I am awfully devoted to Miss Barnes, but what do you know about her?” The “you” hurt, as he may have meant it should. “Oh, I only know that she confides in Aunt Betty, and Aunt Betty confides in me.’ “And you ” “I confide in you.” He grew clever, as a dull man may, when he feels the need of arms against someone it would be cowardly to strike. “You may as well tell me what you Intend to tell me,” he said. “Only, that you are making a fool of yourself, my dear boy. An old friend has surely the right ” “Or takes it.” “Yes, or takes it, to say these frank things. The girl doesn’t care a chip about you.” “She said so?” “Not exactly. But she confessed to being dreadfully in love with someone else.” “Ah, well, that’s possible.” “You will discover that I am speaking the truth when she marries him.” “If she does.” “If he proposes, you mean. He seems to be rather slow about it. She declares he is shy, too doubtful of his own merits. A woman always wants to think that, when a man doesn’t come to the point.” “I wish you would remember that you are talking about a girl ” “Who is In love with someone else. Yes, I do. You see, Ronald, I know the world, and you are woefully old-fash-ioned in some ways.” “You have told jne so before.” “Yes, in the old days. But you improved, a little under my tuition. You have gone back since.”

He rose to go, but chance caused him to overturn a vase of flowers as he pushed his chair back, and he stooped, with many apologies, to pick it up. She continued softly, as if there had been no interruption: “You may know the man she is in love with, and it adds conviction to my story. You were in the house at the time. She is very romantic over him, •nd she did not tell my aunt his real name. She called him ‘Prince Charming.’ ” The vase fell and smashed into many pieces at his feet. He burst out laughing as a school boy laughs, and he ignored the breaking and seized Mrs. Jack’s hands. “Thank you, a thousand times. I knew you were a good sort at the bottom.” He spoke as if he meant it, but she knew better, and winced. “We \ted in some beastly pantomime on Christmas eve, and I was Prince Canning in a fairy-tale thing when she was the princess. You’ve done me a good service by mistake, Mrs. Jack, and you’ll know that the man loves her — when she marries him.” She smiled, said good-by and rang the bell with composure, but her face was curiously out of keeping with her voice. He went downstairs with a brisk step, and out into the street. The whole world had suddenly grown very wonderful, and, to prove it, he hailed a hansom and went to call on Miss Barnes.

“In LOVE?”