A New Sensation. Albert Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ and decline it absolutely. Further, I withdraw all my advice, since it evidently is useless to offer any. Advertise for your lady typewriter, make your arrangements with her, and go your way. And now excuse me, as I have to dress for a walk."

      I didn't really want to hurt her feelings, and it was too evident that I had done so. I asked meekly if she would let me wait in the parlor till she was ready and escort her to her destination.

      "No," she answered, with more determination that I had ever heard in her tone. "I prefer to say good-by to you here."

      I liked her immensely, in spite of all, and was sorry that anything should make a break between us, but I had no idea of crawling on my knees for any woman alive. I took up my overcoat, that lay on a chair—I was as much at home in Tom Barton's house as in my own lodgings—and put it on. Then I took my gloves, my hat and cane, said "Good-by," with great formality, and left the house.

      I preferred to walk, for although the air was frosty, there was heat enough in my veins. Block after block was traversed in an aimless way, for I had no destination in particular. All at once, I noticed a group of people staring into a window, and realized that I had reached the up-town building of the New York Herald.

      For several seconds I tried to remember what there was about that building to interest me. It was one of the results of my illness that memory had become treacherous. It frequently happened that I met intimate friends and could not tell their names if I were to be hanged. I slackened my pace, and cudgeled my brain, as the saying is, for some moments.

      It was the Herald Building—I knew that well enough. What did I want there? Suddenly, glancing into the business office, it all came back to me and I entered.

      The idea I had suggested to Statia as a joke began to strike me as a rather good thing.

      I would insert an advertisement for a female typewriter, if only to spite Statia Barton! Dr. Chambers had almost forbidden me to travel alone. I had a right to select my companion, and it was the business of no one—least of all of a woman who had thrown me over—whether the person I chose wore pantaloons or petticoats.

      Going to one of the desks I took up a pen, dipped it in ink, and tried to indite a suitable announcement. My hand shook, for I had not recovered a quarter of my normal strength. When I had written the first line it would have puzzled the best copy-holder in the office above to decipher it. I tore it up, took a second piece of paper and began again. When I had written the advertisement at last it did not suit me, and once more I essayed the task with new construction. Other men and several women were using the desks about me, and I glanced at them to see if any nervousness was visible on their countenances. There appeared to be none, however, which fact made my own sensations harder than ever to bear.

      Several times I fancied that the clerks behind the wire guards were watching me, that they had managed in some mysterious manner to see over my shoulder, and were laughing at my efforts. Still I hated to give up beaten. It is a part of my nature to carry out any task which I have attempted, no matter how insignificant. I took the pen once more and finally completed with difficulty the following:

      TYPEWRITER WANTED—To travel in the Tropics for the winter. Duties light, salary satisfactory. Machine Furnished. Address—Herald up-town.

      Just as I was about to take this to one of the clerks, an extremely pretty young woman came to the desk I was using and attracted my attention. She had a pair of solitaire diamonds in her beautiful ears and half a dozen costly rings on her pretty fingers. She wore a tastily trimmed hat, with veil, a well fitting seal coat and a plaided silk skirt of subdued colors. I judged her to be the wife or daughter of some wealthy man, who had come to advertise for a maid or cook. With a few quick strokes of the pen, in a hand that I saw was clear and bold, she completed her writing and stepped quickly to the nearest counter. I followed her; and as there was already one customer engaging the attention of the clerk, I plainly saw the notice she had written, as she held it daintily against her muff. Its purport was as follows:

      A YOUNG LADY, stranger in the city, beautiful of face and form, 22 years of age, suddenly thrown on her own resources, wishes the acquaintance of elderly gent.

      The clerk looked up and nodded to the fair creature, when her turn came. He had evidently seen her there before.

      "You have forgotten again," he said, smiling. "Object matrimony."

      "So, I have," she answered, in mellifluous tones. "It seems so silly, you know."

      "A rule of the office," he responded, adding the words for her. "Dollar and a half."

      She took a twenty dollar bill from a purse and received the change as if it was hardly worth picking up. It was evident that much sympathy need not be wasted on this young "stranger," and that the "resources" on which she was "thrown" were likely to be amply sufficient.

      "One twenty," said the clerk, to me. "Business Personals, of course. I will write the word 'Lady' before 'Typewriter,' if that is what you mean. It may save annoyance. Sunday? Very well."

      He gave me my change and I withdrew to make room for others, who were already crowding for recognition.

      It was only Thursday, but it was something to have done the thing. After months of insomnia it is hard to make up one's mind. Delighted that I had taken the first step, I bought a paper from one of the boys at the door and went home to study the steamship routes.

CHAPTER II.

       Table of Contents

      OUTLINING THE SCHEME.

      The most intimate masculine friend I had in the world was Statia's brother, Tom Barton. We seemed to have become attached for the reason that a story reminded some one of an event—because we were so different. Tom was not the kind of chap, however, to trust with such a plan as I had just been maturing. Not only was he virtuous—which may be forgiven in a young man of good qualities—but he would never have liked me had he suspected a thousandth part of the peccadilloes of which I had been guilty. Tom was my friend, but never my confidant. For a fellow to share the present secret, there was no one like Harvey Hume.

      I was reasonably sure that Harvey would tell me I was contemplating a ridiculous move; indeed I more than half suspected that to be the case. But he would content himself with pointing out the silliness of the plan, leaving it to my own judgment what to do afterward. Tom, on the contrary, would have told Statia all about it, not imagining, of course, that I had done so; then he would have gone to my Uncle Dugald and set him on my track. If these means failed to bring me to my senses, I am not sure but he would have applied for an inquirendo to determine my sanity; all with the best intentions in the world and a sincere desire to promote my moral welfare.

      Tom is a fellow who would jump off a steamer in mid-ocean to save me, should I fall overboard while in his company, and never think, until he found himself on the way to the bottom, that I could swim, while he could not even float a little bit. He is as decent a chap as it has ever been my privilege to know, and as much to be avoided on certain occasions as a fer-de-lance. At any rate, my recent tilt with his sister did not make me particularly anxious to see any person who bore her family name. So I went to Harvey Hume.

      Harvey is, or professes to be, a lawyer. One of our mutual friends once got credit for a mot that really didn't amount to much, when a third party inquired if Harvey had yet been 'admitted to the bar,' by replying that he had been admitted to every bar in Greater New York, although he had always failed СКАЧАТЬ