OCR Text |
Show WlfBSrSSMATloN OP MRS. RAbcblFFE,- r , An Incident 5f Tod&y. I Mr. "Radcliffe decided to reforln. There wag only one way to do that. It was "to get" out of London. ; 1 - :And getting out of London meant getting 1 out of England. I Thsre. the knew, and was known. But where to go? f Paris? No. She had been to Paris. Berlin? jj NO. She had been to Berlin. Now York? Yes. jj She ljad never been to New York. $ So she EOld her furniture, and leased her house, and ran away. k I v She had run away before.. But it had always boon with somebody, with some man. This was I I different. She ran away alpne! All alone with six trunks and one maid. I The ship was full of Americans going home. , !? ' And such Americans! Were all Americans like te people! Such clothes! Such voices! Such ners! None of the women would look at her she wouldn't look at any of the men. t y The trip seemed interminable, i' -Mrs. Kadoliffe asked the Captain where to' ' stin in Nqw prk. He recommended a place. He jj tQlfl orv tliftt it wait a qUiet little liotol, old-fash- ,J ioned 'huf first-clasB. u Mrs. RadclifCe arrived in New York. Oh, New York! Oh, the New Yorkers! She had wondered if alt the Alhericans were as bad as those on the ship. She found that they were worse. Much worse! She felt that she could ! never like an Ainarican .woinan, and that she could never love -an American man. What a prospect Ho look forward to! Oh, dear! Why had-sho over come to America? Why had she ever lofff England? Why had she ever wanted to reform? Nobody to talk to. Nobody No-body 'tb want to talk to. Nothing to do. One day. ' Two Wf. Three days. : Her past had been bad.- But here Present I wau worse. And what of her Future? i On the evening of the third day she went to the writing-room to write a letter home. Home, sweet home! !; The desks were deserted. The room was I empty. Mrs. Radctiffe started her letter. But then she started to cxy. Oil, for a Mend! Oh, for someone! Oh, for anyone! Oh, for anyone English! Someone entered' Hie room. Mrs. Itadcliffe looked up.. It was a man. And yes yes it waa an Englishman! She could see it. She could tell it. Sne could feci it. His. face, his clothes, his maimer! She sat and stared at him. And he stood and stared at her. The Woinan was thirty-five. She was tall and slender. Her race was white.- Her hair was black. Her eyes were "big and black and sorrowful. sor-rowful. The Man was twonty-flve. He was tall and strapping. His face was pink. His hair was yellow. His eyes were bright and blue and joy- I" ous. I He came over to her. She blushed. She I actually blushed. When had she blushed last? I Goodness only knows! This was reforming with a I veu&eance. Eve Radcliffe blushing! My word! I A woman of thirty-five blushing at a man Jwenty- 1 flvu! And a man of twenty-five laughing at a I voman of thirty-five! Yes, laughing! For what I is what he is doing! Not with his lips, but with I his eyes,-his delightlul eyes, hie delicious eyes, I his distracting eyes! I He spoke. And he spoke English. Oh, such Ij English! Such marvelous English! I Mrs. Radcliffe blushed mom than ever. She I wan glad she was Mushing. S" e was glad she I remembered how to Wush, She was grateful to the man for making her blush. I "1 beg. you. pardon," said the Man. The Woman looked up at him, up into his eyrs. What did it mean? "I beg your pardon," said tho Man, "but you an English, are you not?" "Yes," said the Woman. "How splendid!" said tho Man. The Woman looked up at him again. What did he want? "And you are alone?" said the Man. ' Yes," said the Woman. "Oh, that is a bit of luck" said tho Man. The Woman looked up at him again. What should she do ? "I am English, loo," said the Man. "You are English. And I am English. You are an Eng-lisn Eng-lisn woman. I am an Englishman. You are here alone." And I am here alone. We are here alone. Ar Englishman and an Englishwoman alone in America" She did not dare to look up at him now. But she knew that he was laughing, with his eyes. Ho was laughing at her. He was taking advantage of her. He was insulting her. How dare he? The brute! The coward! The the dear Very soon she would have reproved him, reprimanded re-primanded him, and all that sort of thing if only his figure had not been so stunning, if only his face had not been so charming, if only his voice hntl not been so melodious, if only he had not been so English "You you have made a mistake," said the Woman at last. "What? You are not English?" said the Man. "Don't you, really?" said the Man. "I am Norman Darcy Here If my card." "I don't want your card" said the Woman. But she took it, and looked at it, and kept it. "And you are Mrs. Radcliffe," said the Man. "How- did you know?" said the Moman. "1 guessed It," said the Man. '"What do you war.t?" said the Woman. "I want to be fi lends with you," said the Man. "Well, I don't want to be friends with you," aaid the Woman. "Oh, yes you do," said the Man. 'Oh, no I don't," said the Woman; "why should I?" "BocauEe you are English, and because I am . 'English. And because you are lonely and because be-cause I am lonely. And because " began the Man. "Oh, please go away" said tho Woman. Mrs. Radcliffe had suddely remembered. She had remembered the Past, and the Present, and the Future. She had remembered why she had . left England, and why she had come to America, i It was to reform. "Please go away" said Mrs. Radcliffe. "You don't mean that," said the Man. "Yes, I do," said tho Woman. "I may take you at your word," said the Man; "ouu then you will be sorry when it is too late." He was half serious. Yes, more than half. He was really thinking of going. Oh, if hp, really "did leave her alone, alone with the Americans! The idea was too horrible. "That is not the question," said the Woman. "It is, it is," laughed the Man; "you. do not want me to go. And I do not want to go. So 1 won't go." And he didn't go. He stayed, and stayed, and stayed. And when Mrs. Radcliffe eventually wrote her letter home home, sweet home she told how glorious America was, how glorious New York was, how happy she was, how very, very happy and, In the postscript, she confided to her friend, her dear old friend, that she had decide'! not to reform just yet. Harold Melbourne, In Town Topics |