SHORT STORIES

Manawatu Times, 25 March 1926, Page 6

SHORT STORIES

Cross Currents Matty Miller could not help himself. Ho had a sort of animal cunning- that treasured up little affronts as a miser hoards his gains, having expectations of repaying it all one day. Why a woman like Sarah Scott ,-who loved to flit in the sunshine like a bird should ever have brought herself to marry him is one of the unsolved mysteries of life. He was stout and squat, stupid and malicious, as if nature had intended him for a creajture of another class, but changed its view too late to make of him cither one thing or anpthcr, but jufjt a puzzling mixture, half man and half something lower. His father lel(t him a good farm ,a tiny home, and no encumbrance. Perhaps she drifted into a feeling of pity for him, living at Billis, ins life alone, with only hired people, who just took their time and money out of him. The mothering sense it was, maybe, that led her inito linking her life with his. If she could have looked into the dark, revengeful soul that was his, not all the king’s horses nor all the king’s men would have dragged her to sign her name uncer his on the marriage register. Michael Mullen was there when she went to Billis; he was there when she finished wdth the place, likewise. There was a servant girl there, 100, for a time, but Matty would rather feed a heifer, so he soon let her go, feeling that one woman was almost too many, if she hadn't something to fall back upon, barring her two hands. It was not many weeks until Sarah Miller awoke to the fate that stretched 1 ahead of her.

By way of contrast it came to her a,t first. Mick Mullen singing in the turnip field as gay as a lark in the clear air; her man rampagning in the kitchen over some milk that had gone sour, with his rat-like grin. Sarah, listening to the two of them wondered how there could be so much difference in men. It were well she had been blind to ithe contrast; it’s too late to discover flaws in a man when you’re tied to him. Mich, ael slept in a little corner in the garret where lumber and old harness were stored. She cleaned it up a bit because of her liking for ond who kept his face in the sun. By way oi recompense, he fetched in water ror her when his day’s work was over, pounded potatoes for the pigs, duties that otherwise would have fallen to her share. Michael had never loved any woman yet. He used to pray much, having a simple faith, against temptations of the flesh. Matjty’s big grumble was over the fortune he expected with Sarah Scott and didn’t get. Old Sam Scott died up to his eard in debt. Not that Sarah needed a fortune to |take the hardness out of her countenance, like many others. She was comely, m loV e with life, red-haired, with a sweet little face nicely touched with fern tickles. While Michael was whistling in the haggard, Ma',tty was cursing within. Sarah keeping an ear open to both. One evning after milking Michael coming in of a sudden, found her in tears. “Th© birds are singing outside," he said, "and it’s not right for you to bo carryin’ on like this in here.” He put his hand on her shoulder- lightly: the grey eyes looked, into the brown ones and read there the sympathy and understanding that, so far, were lacking in her life. She rose as if ashamed of her weakness, and told him she had a book for him, a sort of romance. Unless he lay aw r ake all night he had very little time for the reading of it. He whistled a bar and danced the opening step of a hornpipe upon the flags of the kitchen floor. His curls flopped :abouit his forehead lik© the leave's of a tree in a storm.

It was all over in a minute. ■Womanlike, she was glad to find someone into whose ear she could pour her worries. Michael refused to see anything, only the sunshine. “Yoif can sing away trouble,’ he said, and because she thought there might be something in it she used, on occasion, jto sing the folk ballad, ‘The Maid of the Sweet Brown Knowe.” Then her man cam e in, his face puckered into a frown, so she found she could not keep the singing up. Matty went across the mountainis for seed potatoes. He was away three days—one coming, one going, besides the day spent in the marke(t. Some, how the cloud lifted then, and she could go about her work better. "I know now,” she said to herself ns if she had made a discovery, “why the shadow hangs over this house. I don’t think it will ever lift—un',til I leave it.” Michael replied that there was » blackbird singing outside. ‘Tie starts at daybreak, and you can hear him all the hours of night.” "Ah, Michael, he's not married and in a house with a shadow.” “He’s married all righ)t; I know where his house it. There will soon be .company in it ..top.” She was wondering if that would make much difference. Michael read the book. He had not road many; he thought of her as he read, the grey, troubled life, the shadows in the dark smoko-stained roof. He was not one to carry round a long face, so he was Jilting as he descended by the great ladder. That night, however, he knelt by his bed and prayed for a long time. He was becoming afraid, a little dubious about his strength of will. He often asked himself if the cloud was not something more than her imagining: maybe ilt was a cloud of sin? Ho was a little superstitious, too, like all re-ligious-minded folk. The clay Matty returned Michael and Sarah Miller were churning in tlie dairy the part of the milk which they did not send to th 0 creamery. She was 'telling him of an inquest in the paper on a man over in the west who had been poisoned, it was supposed, by his wife, a woman much ! younger than her. Michael asked her. what she thought of that. One should not pass Judgement

about it.” she answered. "It's like th e cross.curront in a river where two floods meet and go swirlin’ aroun’ in circles. I suppose she'll die for it. It, was wrong, but who knows what she suffered before she could bring herself to that point. It may bo that death is the least sufferin’ of all.”

A bowl on (the dresser fell dowji smashed into little bits. Michael let go of lh c churn handle, and stared at the pieces of delf. "It's a token!” he whispered mysteriously.

She smiled. “Michael, you ar c full of pishthcrogucs. The bowl mufit have been slickin’ over the edge of th shelf.”

“When a bowl falls down broken that way it is done for a warnin'. Some unseen hand, likely it was, that pushed it down.”

She stood close to him. watching las eyes. “I’d love Ito teach you sense, Michael.”

“Maybe you have taught, mo already,” He began to revolve the churn again, half afraid to look at her. He heard a preacher say that when temptation came the way to overcome ft was by thinking of some holy thing; his mind ran on the story of St. Francis and the birds. With Sarah Miller's young, round face close to his own, colour rising in her cheeks .her breast swelling, he was in peril that way. “Michael” —she snuggled close — “would it be a great sin if I were to kiss you?” He did no|t speak. Her band stole round his neck for just long enough to make him forget Francis and his, feathered friends. He realised after a minute or so that something out of the ordinary had happened, that he must go away. He and she were not of the one religion; besides, she was a married woman.

She was humming the. air of "The Stuttering Hover's” when the noise of Matty’s carit was hoard In the laneway, and the dog ran out wagging his. tail. The shadow fell once more Matty Miller staggered out of the crib hall'.drunk; Michael was already unharnessing the horse. "Where’s |that mate iv mine?” “She’s somewhere around,”- Michael replied; he could not look his master in the .face for the first time. • Til teach her manners; T, hcv been too soft with her, thaft’s all. . . A strumpet like that! I (lon't care a hang if she —if she—puts her cloth over her head and sails off this minlt. And—Michael —I— don't care —care —a hang if you do, along with her" Michael was leading Ithe horse into the stable, a-nd the last' words were flung; its ’it were, after him. partly in defiance and partly as a warning. They stung and, wounded him, Implying' an unracritdd degree of guilt. He came out upon the street quickly, and going up >to Miller, said, “If there’s any dirty thought in your mind, yc’r a liar, Matty. Had yo been sober. I’d hcv wiped the ground with yer ugly carcasj* Pay me what’s due and I’ll go.” He stood glaring at the half-drunken form of Miller, as it tried toafteady itself ,th e head and shoulders swaying back and forwards on the legs like sally trees in a gentle gafe.

Michael knew the boss had been hearing spmei stuff from one of the neighbours ,and had spat it out again in the drink, without thinking. He wais going, anyhow; Ito fly from danger was now a duty. No one could prophesy what would arise out of a situation such as that. He was sorry for Sarah’s fate; if she had boon one of his own sort, there’s no knowing what he might have done. As it was, married or single, there was a bar. rier between (them. Sarah was nice to look at; he wanted to bo beyond sight of her. Matty did not offer to pay him off. He felt, perhaps, he had been indiscreet. maybe unjust, with one who had worked so hard; and when he was sober and sick in the early morning, it was his wife he blamed entirely. He had had no luck since he melt her. Seven calves dead of the fluke, her fortune vanished, and now he must pay up a bill in the bank on which he had seen surety. Misfort. une had. surely, crossed his path.

Sarah’s eyes were red when she spread Michael’s broadcast on the table. “I might hey been walkin’ the road last night for all the sleep I got,” she said under her breath. “My head’s burnin’ like a live coal.” There was a dark mark on her throail, which she tried to hide. "Ah,- well, it'll not last. Have patience and pray to God for strength.” "Pray! It’s strength to wring his neck I want, Michael.”

They were getting in (the night’s supply of hay for the cows when it happened. It is always somewhat of a mystery how an accident occurs. This moment you arc going along normally, thinking of remote, things or people; the next, the world instantly grows dark. Sarah stood upon the tire of the stack, using the iron, cutter; Matty was below, binding it into convenient waps as it fell from above. Ho had pressed hia wife into rendering this service in the haggard what time Michael was away for a crib of turnips. She made no complaint on that head; she had suffered worse. It may bo she had already mapped out a course for herself in which the in. cidonls between did not matter much If you are going to cSlcbrato a, victory soon, or to see the beloved you do not remember that a little shower fell.

Malty was bent over the hay, lifting a bundle in liis arms, when the iron cutter slid from the tearce above, and. crashing upon his skull, eight feet below, loft a sudden gap out of his lip's, neither a cry. If it were no|t that Sarah had seen the cutter for an instant as it slid over the edge, she might never have guessed that it was winged with death. Lanty Scot, coming into the yard just then in search of a sheep shears saw something fall; lie was too far off, lie told the coroner, to any what it was. Mrs. Miller was bent, throwing the hay down, and did not notice

“I daresay that was how the unfortunate affair happened.” said the coroner; "she forget the cutter was near the edge, and could not see that her

husband was standing close up to the face of the stack.”

The jury offered their sympathy. Such a short time it seemed since the marriage, and the two of them out at evening service in the meltinghouse on the sidecar only the day before. They were trying to save money by doing without a servant woman, and, dear knows, herself was in no lit state for Such work.

Everyone was sympathetic except Michael, who never spoke a word with her, going around with a white scared face. “Poor Matty,” he would say, 'it was a terrific end for him to gel, if it was the will iv God.”

One neighbour woman, with a long tongue in her head would not have believed that Michael had cared so much lor Matty Miller, if she had not seen it with her own eyes; and him digging with a different loop too!

When the funeral was over he told Sarah Miller, apologetically, he was thinking of going to America: .a cousin had sent for him and he would like to gee away at once. “But Michael,'’ she put in, "you would not surely think of leaving me in the middle of my trouble ?” It is best so.”

“Besides, your time is not up till May Day, and that’s a long time ahead yet.” She was looking at him wistfully in her black drees. “It is lonely in this place now, even with the hired gir1....! do hoar queer noises in the niglijt, and a stop cornin’ and goiu’ on the stair. Did you hear it?”

"One fancies things in the dark, especially if you have been, worried and without sleep for a time. It does not take much to make the stairs creak; a cait or a dog walkin’ on them would make a noise But 1 must go I hev given my promise.”

She wa'a silent for a little. He could hear her breathing. Then she spoke in a whisper, “I may sell this place; ... .It might be that I would be goin’ to America, too.’ ’lt sounded like an invitation, making him shudder. Jn th e night Michale began to feel something closing in on him. It was as if there was not sufficient air in his gat ret. He opened the sky window and looked out upon .the hagSard. In th 0 silver moonlight he saw Matty miller in the rig he wore when alive, going towards the byre with something on his shoulder. Mi. chael was neither excited nor asleep at the time. “Jit’s him, he exclaimed, "and he’s carryin’ the very hay knike that fell upon him.” He pulled on his trousers quickly, and without waiting lor more, ran in his bare feet down the stair’s, opened the door, and went out in pursuit of it. He had no fear of the dead.- the dead cannot harm you if you have not harmed them; and Michael had nothing to reprove himself with that way. Still, it was strange to bo following a dead man with a hay cutter on Ins back. He had no doubt who it was .but he was drawn on by au irresistible curiosity to see where it was going, what it was going to do. Ihe widow, likewise being unable to sleep, looked out of her window,' and beheld Bllchael, barefooted, stealon tip-toes across the haggard just as another figure disappeared in the shadow of the cart shed. It puzzled her to account for the man’s action; did he fear thieves—it could not be that; madness—he was surely a bit strange in his ways since his master died. She woke up Sally Brady, the woman who slept in her room, and' invited her to look out. By the time bally s sleepy eyes were open, there was nothing to be seen. They waited at the window' for some minutes, then Mrs Miller saw a familiar figure omerge from the cart shed and come back towards the hay rick. ‘‘God in heaven! Sally, do you sec him?” Pointing towards it. ■ ‘T see nobody. ma’am, bekaso there’s nobody to see. Come to your bed mistress; its yeT nerves that are all gone.”

But the widow persisted in dressins’. If it s not him, it’s someone dressed up like him, and he’s up to some mischief.” The dos lying in a barrel in the cart shed set up a weird howl. We must go out to see what’s frightenin’ Carlo.”

They went. It was a cold night, a trifle frosty, so clear that you could gather pins and needles on the gravel outside. The dog still whined unnaturally, as if in fear, crouching in its barrel. When Sarah called out, it came out. wagging its tail, pleased with the companionship. It was shivering, the hair upturned along ridge of its back from sheer terror. Neither of them could see anything. Mrs. Miller suddenly gripped Sally by the waist, saying she felt a breath. "Someone is pushing up against me. She cried.

“Mistress, dear, it’s me. There’s not a thing about, only me and you and Carlo.”

She persisted, however, in saying they were not alone. A presence was with them. The dog went towards the face of the haystack, snarling the fvhile. They saw Michael coming towards them! they were glad of his company now. He would not say if ho had seen anybody, but from his manner it was clear that h*» had been in search of something or somebody, himself. “What is he growlin’ at on the haystack ?” Sally asked, following Carlo. "I see no person,” Michael replied, after a pause. “I feel as if someone was pushin’ me. Oh, Michael, there’s somethin’ here!” She clutched his arm and drew closer th e skirt . Her condition was pitiable, hands shaking, voice vibrating with intense excitement.. The other itwo tried to quiet her; each taking an arm they sought to draw her indoors again. She was growing weak, however, and they had to let her resit on some waps of hay that were folded in tho cut face of the rick.

“Just a minit Michael; don't leave me; Sally, put your arm round me.” The dog sat. som 0 yards off, staring at tho cut ledge of hay a few foot above their head ;one moment he was quiet and watchful, tho next he stood up in fright. But he harked no more. Michael .observing this altitude, after a while went and stood by Carlo. Hid the dog sec something that they couldj nojt see, or was it merely fright? As he stood thus,

feeling a little cold as the excitement began to subside he thought something 'stirred on |tho lodge of hay above the women. Nothing tangible it was, just a sort of misty, shapeless figure. As he watched, he thought he saw, again the haycutter being pushed over the ledge. Without speaking he rushed towards the women, who wer e just rising to go into the house. Only a few paces separated them: short as it was, something fell, crashing on the head of Sarah Miller. On e woman le't out a piercing scream, thalt cleft the still night like a streak of lightning: Sally, too paralysed to cry even at the happening, jabbered out a mixtur e of prayer and exclamation.

Michael lifted up his mistress. Blood poured in a stream from a gash in her head where the cutter struck. She was past pain. ■ The dog whined. Sally, recovering her voice, called out, ‘Help! Help!” Michael, holding the body in his arms knew that no help could matitcr. He put it down tenderly upon the hay and mad e tho sign of the cross .three times between them and that grey shadow flickering on the stack. A rat came from a cornstalk, stood daringly and glared at them. Its barred teeth were somehow ' familiar. Michael flung a stone, and it scurried into the dark somewhere . A blackbird fluttered in the winltry trees in the haggard, chirped joyously as if calling to its mate, then flew across the moonlit space. “That was her soul,” Michael said in awe, looking down at the face of the only woman who had ever caused him to lie awake in the nigh|t.—By Cahir Hcaly, in the “Australa'sian.”