THE STRAY NYMPH OF DIAM.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXIV, Issue 3793, 2 April 1913, Page 7

THE STRAY NYMPH OF DIAM.

(By Fritz Hart.) Events, chance and transitory, have at times a strange way of attaching themselves vividly to the memory, and from time to time —in spite of intervening years —• will reconstruct themselves as clearly as though they had happened on the yesterday. Alany years ago I was walking across Piccadilly Circus. It was one of those dull, • rainy days—chill and cheerless—that are typical of London during certain months. The pathways were wet and slippery, and the roads were worse. Here and there some lean, unfortunate cab horse stumbled and fell. Walking in the gutters, a dismal procession of sandwich men drifted by—a sorry and dejected band. Fastidiously dressed women, lifting dainty skirts, stepped warily from the shops into their carriages; while beggars whined their unanswered prayers, holding in their hands the boxes of matches which constitute their license to importune every passer-by for alms. AVho that knows London will not recognise it Under these conditions? On -this particular day I was crossing from Piccadilly to Shaftesbury Avenue, and had reached the island that lies in'the middle of the Circus. Around the fountain was grouped the customary band of flower-sellers. A strange and somewhat pathetic little gathering on such l a day in the heart of London. But Londoners are used to the sight, and these vendors of country blossoms struck no incongruous note as they sat, wet and bedraggled, at their avocation.

A congestion of traffic brought me to a momentary halt, and glancing round with au idle and accustomed eye, I was aware suddenly of something that, while apparently commonplace, caused my heart-strings to tighten. AYhether my psychio perceptions were sharpened, and I saw beneath the surface of things, or whether my interest was awakened by a certain vividness of contrast, J cannot say; but my gaze was drawn, as a needle to the magnet, towards two women—one young, the other of middle age—who were threading their way through the throng of horses, carts, motor cars and carriages, brought to a standstill by a policeman’s uplifted finger.

The contrast between the two wo-

men was striking; the face of the elder was hard and pitiless, and the corners of her mouth were grim and cruel. Her eyes, masterful and malign, were fixed upon the form of her companion, whom she appeared to drive mercilessly, but unobtrusively, before her. They both were dressed in garments of rusty black, poor and tattered —symbols of a poverty that was not far removed from,squalor. The elder woman wore a hat that had long lost all semblance of definite shape or proportion, but the other went bareheaded.

AA T as this other the daughter, or some stray nymph of Diam—found, lost, arid wandering through'an unfa-

miliar age, and held in bondage by her captors? Her hair was like that of the Blessed Damozel — the color of ripe corn, and her eyes had learnt their hue of a summer sky. Herrick would have compared her skin with milk, and sung of the faint roses that bloomed in her cheeks. With one white arm —bare, to the elbow —she held her shawl in its place. AYith the other she carried a basket of cornflowers, blue as her own dreaming eyes.

The drizzling rain fell on her head unheeded; the turmoil of the muttstudinous traffic seemed to pass ’ ears unheard. She looked straight in front of-her, seeing—what? Nothing that was in the mud-bespattered Piccadilly Circus, but rather some place cf wind and flowers wherein she Mad played with sisters as sweet and "fair as herself, when Dian was a huntress. She walkedxas one in a vision, and grace was in each movement of her supple limbs. . Relentlessly the hard-faced woman followed, almost drove, her across the road, and soon tho two were lost to sight, swallowed by the crowd. Surely an unimportant event as far as I was concerned. Yet never have I doubted that for a few brief moments. I witnessed a scene in a tragedy sordid and brutal, and that tho sooner the final curtain fell the bettor it would be for that stray nymph of: 3>ian.