A Young Man's Story

YES, I confess I have known something which may fairly be termed a supernatural experience; but I did not care to talk about it in the smoking-room last night. Now that I am sitting here quietly with you and Susy, you may hear my story if you like. Perhaps it is hardly worth telling; perhaps you will both laugh at me when it is finished. However, it is the kind of story that ought to be told between the lights; so do not ring for the lamp till I have done.

You have never heard much about my engagement to May Newton. There was nothing remarkable in the affair; it was only the oft-told tale of two persons being thrown together in a narrow sphere, and gliding naturally into close intimacy. I suppose you are aware that I met her first in an out-of-the-way village on the sea-coast where I went to stay with my uncle. It was the sort of place in which any man would have rapidly drifted into love-making—firstly, because there was no other way of killing time; and, secondly, because there was an air of romance about the spot. Although there were no great beauties in Longbeach, it had a certain charm of dreamy peace. The sea lulled it to sleep with drowsy murmurs; its ruined castle, grey and ivy-grown, was full of nooks where you might read or muse without fear of intrusion. There were one or two girls in the village who were prettier than May, and yet, after giving them all a fair trial, I settled down into a calm enjoyment of her companionship, and cared for no one else.

In the beginning, I certainly had no serious intentions. I was not a marrying man, and the pleasure of "Shaking down loose blossoms from off a laden bough" had always been quite enough for such a trifler as myself. But does anyone ever know the precise moment when liking changes to love? I have looked back sometimes, and tried to see just the very spot where my path took that mysterious turn; but I never could discover it. All I know is that the jest became earnest, the shadow shaped itself into substance, and then the old idle days fled away for ever.

We were not rich enough to think of a speedy marriage. She was living with a widowed mother and elder sister, and I knew from the first that their income was small. As for myself, you are pretty well acquainted with my means, and you know that I have only lately been smiled upon by fortune. We used to sketch out our future as we sat together on the shore. A golden future it was to be—bright as the sunlit sea that lay calm and glittering before our eyes. There were no storms to mar those tranquil days of late summer; hour after hour glided by in mellow sunshine, and the still atmosphere was full of that sense of ripeness which always deepens the feeling of repose.

It was difficult to believe that a cold world was waiting outside our balmy paradise. Poor May, living her secluded country life, was utterly unable to realise the bitter struggle for existence which exhausts the heart and brain. While I was with her, the charm of her presence made me forget all about that struggle, and yet I knew that it had to be faced. We could not build our nest, like the birds, in some cranny of the old castle walls, and sing our lives away in an ivy bower. What a delightfully simple ending of a courtship that would be! I remember how we watched the happy feathered things flitting in and out of their haunts in the ruins, and wished that we could as easily provide ourselves with a home.

The autumn had set in before I left Longbeach, and went up to town to seek my fortune. Through my uncle's influence, I had obtained the post of confidential clerk in a mercantile house; but the salary was small, and the business and its associations had few attractions for me. In fact, I hated the very name of business.