It Happened in Japan

by Baroness Albert d' Anethan

Amy's face clouded. What! give up the ball! This ball on which she had so greatly reckoned for the sole reason that she knew Sir Ralph would be present? She had long ago decided in her own mind that this was to be the occasion on which might be expressed, without loss of self-respect, a reasonable amount of contrition and regret. There were moments when Amy flattered herself that she knew her power well enough to be fairly certain that she had only to offer the olive branch to see it promptly accepted. And yet again, at other times, she felt considerable doubt as to her advances being well received. Sir Ralph's conduct of late had certainly not held out much promise of success. She had not seen him since the garden party, and her vanity suffered more than one wound as the disagreeable conviction slowly dawned upon her--that he was persistently keeping out of her way. From all sides she heard of his devoted attendance upon Lady Martinworth. Though Amy had more than once seen this lady she did not know her. In moments of depression therefore, she found herself picturing her rival as the owner--if not of beauty--of much fascination and every charm, coupled with those powerful weapons, a clever woman's designing and seductive wiles.

Lady Martinworth would have been the first to have felt intense amusement at such gifted and extremely unlikely traits of character being attributed to her.

Poor Amy was therefore, somewhat perplexed and annoyed, and at times she felt extremely sorry for herself. She concluded that she had already been more than amply punished for those few bars played so thoughtlessly on the piano, and sometimes she declared to herself that it was an imperative necessity to end the present unsettled situation. These last few weeks of uncertainty had taught her, more than all the previous months put together, how true and sincere was her love for Ralph Nicholson. She could only pray now that her own foolish conduct had not for ever put it out of her power to prove this fact to him.

The ball, she knew, would settle matters one way or the other, and it was with a feverish anxiety, very unlike the usual indifferent insouciante Amy, that she awaited the evening's event.

And now the receipt of this frantic little note upset all her calculations, destroying at one blow all her brilliant castles in the air. She hesitated. Pearl herself wrote she was not ill. What reason strong enough could therefore exist to cause Amy to relinquish this entertainment, an entertainment where so much that was momentous might occur. Her absence from the ball would cause Sir Ralph to doubtlessly put a wrong construction upon her action, and as he never came to see her now, when should she have another chance of explaining matters to him? No, she would not go to Pearl. It was really asking too much. She could not give up this opportunity, even for her cousin for whom her affection was so great. But the moment that Amy arrived at this determination, and as she read the note again, she realised that this was no childish whim on Pearl's part, that her presence for some reason unknown was necessary to her cousin, and such being the case, her own wishes, her own inclinations, must certainly be ignored.

There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes as, putting the note into her pocket, she rose from the table and looked across at her aunt.

"Auntie," she said, "I am sorry, but I can't go to the ball to-night. You and Uncle must go without me."

"What's this nonsense?" growled Mr. Rawlinson. "What business have your aunt and I skipping about at balls? We are both too old to make fools of ourselves. Our object in going is simply to look after you, and if you choose to take a ridiculous whim into your head to stay at home, why, we stay at home too, that's all."

And with a look on his face that expressed: "Nothing in heaven or earth will tear me hence," Mr. Rawlinson settled himself by the fire and deliberately lit a cigar.

"I'm dreadfully sorry to have to give it up," replied Amy, as she went towards the door, "but Pearl wants me. She writes very pressingly, and though she says she is not ill, I feel I must go."