The best short stories of 1918, and the yearbook of the American short story
General
The best short stories of 1918, and the yearbook of the American short story
American fiction -- 20th century; Short stories -- 20th century -- Bibliography; Short stories -- 20th century -- Indexes; Short stories, American
“Then the others came and showered him with thanks and insisted that he
should be their guest at Mallorie, and, to every one’s astonishment,
Lady Maurya’s mother called the man who had served her son for many
years and directed him to take the stranger to her son’s rooms, that had
not been open since the day he fell in battle, and also she said that as
they were of about the same height his wardrobe should be at the
stranger’s disposal. He accepted their invitation and stayed at Mallorie
Abbey for nearly a week, saying that there were a few things he must do
about his machine. And yet, during his whole stay, no one ever saw him
at work on it. In fact, although the Mallories never mentioned it to
him, they knew that there was much excitement, not only among their own
people but in the countryside, because since the moment he had come to
earth no one had been able to find the aeroplane. He would sometimes
play tennis with Lady Maurya and her sister the whole morning or
afternoon, and at sight of him in their brother’s flannels and with his
gayest kummerbunds and ties they felt no pangs, only a great comfort in
his presence, not exactly as if their brother was really back with them,
but as if he had power to fill them with the same sort of happiness they
had always felt when the young soldier was at home with them on leave.
“One night during that week a general officer back from France on an
important mission dined at the abbey. After dinner, something calling
the marquis out, the officer and the aeronaut, Lieutenant Templar, as he
called himself, were left alone. As the officer was bidding Lady Maurya
good-by, two hours later, he said: ‘This evening has been worth twenty
trips from France. I have learned that which may be of such value to us
that it will turn the tide of war. This young saviour of Mallorie Abbey
may be the saviour of Europe. But how does he _know_?’
“Then it was that Lady Maurya took Lieutenant Templar by himself, and
she brought him into the very hall where she told me the story, and she
said to him (and how could any creature of earth or heaven have resisted
her, for she has all the beauty and all the allurements of both?): ‘Why
were your wings all purple and gold when you came flying to save us that
morning?’
“And he answered her: ‘The shadow of the earth upon the skies, and a
touch of dawn.’
“‘But there was no dawn,’ she said. ‘And when you came to the great
monster why did your wings change to flaming scarlet, so bright that no
eyes could rest upon them?’
“‘The rising sun,’ he said.
“And she answered: ‘But there was no rising sun.’
“And then he looked at her for a long time while neither spoke, and at
last: ‘How could you send the thing to earth without a single shot?’ she
asked.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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