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Show A SUMMER SHOWER "So you will not forgive me, Cosy?" "No, I will not" "And we are to part forever?" "I have told you so." The unforgiving maiden, whose soft clear voice was in itself a contradiction of the very words it gave utterance to, was leaning out of the old library window of Ashley Manor House, looking away with tearful blue eyes to the distant hills, which were already enveloped in the evening mist, and trying not to look to where her lover stood upon the garden-path below her, anxiously watching and waiting for a sign of forgiveness. The window almost reached the ground and was shrouded in blossoming roses. Suddenly Cosy turned and broke off a large array, and directed all her attention to the task of smoothing out every leaf, and peeping mysteriously under every petal, a warm flush gathering on her face. "Darling forgive me! I'll never vex you again-I swear it! And, Cosy, I was so awfully cut up." The spray was thrown down at his feet, the blue eyes regarded him with a scornful flashing anger in their troubled depths, and the rose-bloom deepened into a passionate crimson. "You mean you sat for an hour and-a-half smoking." Exclaimed Cosy-"yes, smoking, for Daisy saw you- smoking those hateful cigars whilst I was waiting for you, and wondering why you did not come, and fretting myself to death about you. And you were enjoying yourself all the time, and never thinking or caring what had become of me; and you call that being awfully cut up." "Cosy"-with one hand laid upon the edge of the window. "Don't call me by that name again, sir; I am no longer ‘Cosy' to you. Our engagement is at an end, and the sooner that is known the better." She drew herself away from the caressing hand that sought to touch her, and stood passive and silent by the curtain. George Wharton stepped back from the window and threw away the remnant of a cigar he had held concealed all this time in his hand. He looked perplexed and angry, although he lifted his straw hat with a profound bow, and said pleasantly and carelessly enough- "I have had he honor of bidding you a very good evening, Miss Hamilton." There was no answer; Cosy had gone. George walked away to the very same spot where he had already spent the greater part of the evening- a little summer house called the Bower, built under one of the fine cedars that spread their dark arms over the grassy lawn. It was a favorite spot of his, perhaps because he was free there to smoke to his heart's content. He threw himself down by the side of the summer-house, and, as a matter of course, in his disturbed state of mind, he took his pet meerschaum out of his pocket, filled it to the tune of "The day you'll forget me," tilted his hat to the back of his head, and commenced to puff huge clouds of smoke into the fragrant but damp night air. And as he went on smoking and thinking, he did not feel half so concerned about his quarrel with Cosy as he had felt a short time before. He was no longer angry with her, nor could he bring himself to believe that she meant any of the cruel things she had said. "A summer shower," he thought to himself, with a smile, recalling her sudden girlish anger, and remembering how very pretty she looked, with her blue eyes flashing like diamonds and her cheeks glowing like damask roses- "dear little girl!" How strange that she could, even for one moment, dream of taking herself out of his life for ever! The rustle of a white dress, the gleam of an exquisite face shrouded in soft satin and lace, a laugh clear and musical as the notes of a bird, and Cosy had passed right through the cloud of objectionable smoke, leaning on Percy Winyard's arm, and apparently quite unconscious of any need for anger or regret. "I will sing to you tomorrow," the sweet voice said; "and perhaps I will tell you then." Percy bent lower over the fair speaker and whispered something that George did not hear; but the reply to those low, tender words came back to him suddenly, painfully, like a knife thrust into his heart. He sprang to his feet, and stood trembling with excitement by the little green bower. "Yes, I care for you a little- only a very little." Was it really Cosy who was taken in Percy's arms and kissed once, twice, under the cedars, with the fragrance of Portugal laurels around, and moonbeams shining through a rift in the dark bough overhead- Cosy, the dear little girl of his hopes and dreams, the sweet little love for whose sake he had traveled many thousands of miles, and had resigned willingly all the advantages that might have accured {accrued?} to him from a longer stay in the land of pagodas and pigtails? Could it be that the gay trifling girl whose merry laugh had roused him from his reveries was his own sweet Cosy, who, despite her hatred of smoking and her passionate temper, had so often timidly confessed her love for him, and in whose pure eyes he had read nothing but truth and honesty? Oh, it was impossible, simply impossible-he could never have been so deceived! For a few moments he stood thus in miserable anxious thought; then he stepped from under the cedar-boughs into the soft, clear moonlight and drew a deep breath. Looking down, he saw something glittering at his feet. He stooped and picked up a jeweled snake - Cosy's bracelet! He recognized it at once for he had taken a great dislike to seeing it on her arm and had begged her several times not to wear it. Cosy had been very proud of it, as being the most valuable ornament she possessed; but she had very prettily yielded to his wishes, once strongly urged, and had not worn it for many weeks. But the finding of the bracelet now was the one thing George Wharton needed to prove to him that he was neither mad nor dreaming in thinking that it was Cosy who had passed but a few moments before. "False and cruel as the emblem she wore!" murmured George, "And I would have staked my life on her goodness and faithfulness!" He went into the litt[l]e bower, and sitting down by the rickety wooden table, strewn with fancy-work and books belonging to Cosy and here sister, he leaned his head upon his arms, and a few great sobs struggled upwards from his proud wrung heart. All the years before him were a desolate blank. He must never see her again, the false deceitful girl! He must take up the duties he had resigned so gladly only a few months before and away, in a far country, without home, wife, or child, his days would henceforth be passed in a routine of dull monotonous work for his country's service. Such was his outlook for the future - a future uncheered, unlighted by one ray of coming joy or one smile or kiss. A shadow darkened the doorway, and, with a sudden desperate effort he went out and faced the intruder. It was Cosy, without the satin hood, and looking very pale, with swollen red eyelids, and her pretty evening dress of delicate cashmere wet and draggled, through trailing it over the damp grass and paths. She started back upon seeing her lover's face, and shivered a little as she drew her slinging dress about her. "This is your bracelet, I believe." began George, struggling to preserve a dignified reserve and coldness of manner. "I found it here only a few moments ago." Seeing the pale face, with the eyes no longer glowing and bright with anger, but full of sorrowful pleading and remorse, he could say no more. For several moments there was a profound silence; then George Wharton roused himself, and offering her the bracelet, was about to pass by her, when she laid her hand upon his arm, and so detained him. "Cosy," he said almost despairingly, turning to her and wondering what her conduct could possibly mean, "how could you do it when loved you so?" "I am sorry, dear," returned Cosy, trying not to cry again. "I know it was very wrong of me to get into such a rage; but I had waited for you so long; and of course I thought Daisy had given you my message - you know it's really her fault after all. I had something to tell you - something very important; and, when you never came, I naturally thought you preferred to smoke rather than listen to me, and I was angry - I confess it. But you need not believe everything I say at such times." "Cosy, what are you talking about? Have you taken leave of your senses? Don't you know it is not five minutes since I picked up this proof of your heartless conduct - the bracelet you now have in your hand?" "This bracelet! Why, what have I done now? I think it is you who have taken leave of your senses." "But did you not pass here five minutes ago with Wynyard?" "Daisy did. That is what I wanted to tell you - Daisy and Percy." "Had she? Oh, very likely! We do wear each other's things in the most shameful way." "My darling," whispered George folding her in his arms, "will you, can you ever forgive me?" "Why, what is the matter, George? I thought I was altogether in the wrong this time; but you did not really believe that I did not love you?" "I did, my sweet one. Heaven forgive me! I wronged you to that extent for a few moments; but, Cosy, I will never do it again- never, never, darling!" "It was very wrong of you, if you really did," she said, smiling; "and I don't know if any punishment great enough for the offense. Suppose you had gone on thinking so, how miserable we should have been all our lives." "Don't speak of it any more," George answered gravely. "Cosy, I will do anything in the world to prove how much I love you, I will give up smoking from this moment - by Jove, I will. Does that please you, darling?" Cosy laughed merrily. "George,' she said, looking down at her little feet, "don't you think we had better go indoors? And you can come into the library if you like, and smoke, just for once, to please me, the proverbial pipe of peace, while I promise on my part never to lose my temper again." "Cosy, you are an angel, and I - well, will give up smoking when we are married and pipes of peace have become superfluous things!" - Selected. |