THE LITTLE PURITAN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11576, 14 February 1901, Page 3

THE LITTLE PURITAN.

Two bid women's heads, were bent over a newspaper. A red gleam of December sunlight lingered on the-silvery curls and lace cap of the mistress, and over the redcheeked, print-hooded old servant.' Both were lost in what they were reading, and the grandfather's clock outside the room chimed a quarter to four. The western sky grew redder. The cat rolled .over on the rug, and purred louder in the heat from the fire.

It was years since the boy Johnny had left home and his beautiful widowed mother— first, for a public school ; then for his college course, paid for by a rich old uncle. The boy was now a clever, handsome man, out in the world; but the little mother and her servant Betty had lived their quiet lives in the little lonely home, praying often for the great, big man, who had outgrown them so. All their hopes were centred in him, picturing him as a wonderful preacher in the unholy city of London ; and who could withstand the light of John's eyes, or the depths of his rich voice ? So the years had gone on slow wings over the little honey-suckle-covered home. The visits of the great man became exceedingly few and far between, and of his life they knew nothing. When the little silver-haired lady had asked him what he did in the big city, he had said, with a laugh, " I speak to the people, mammy," and she had said, "Ah, that is what I have prayed for most of all, that you should preach to the people; how I should love to hear you." "No, mammy, don't wish that; you are happier here with the roses and garden, out of all the turmoil and trouble." " You don't wear the clothes of a clergyman, my dear ?" " No ; I leave all signs of my profession behind when I come to see you." That was two years before. On the first of every month the little mother received a cheque for ten pounds from her son; not that she required it, but it always came ; often a hurried note -was enclosed with it, and sometimes there was no word; but no refreshing sight of the handsome face had come to the patient women for two long years: they had prayed harder than over, they knew not whj. And now the soul of the little mother had received a blow, and Betty could have wept aloud. The village doctor had called with the newspaper, and had congratulated the little mother on having such a son as the great man written up in the paper, saying he had no idea there was any relationship between them. After he had gone they had received the blow—John, their ideal, was a " play actor," for such was the name applied by Betty to the profession, and he was at tho principal theatre in the city, ten miles away, with his London company. "It can't be true, missus; it must be only a lie, and, mebbe, only the same name." "No, it's no use trying to blind ourselves; I feel it is so." "Missis, we will go and see him for ourselves." But the little mother shivered. "We will: we will go to-morrow night," went on Betty, Dravely, her old head up, eyes shining, and mouth set with determination. "I dare not go, Betty; you know I have not been out of the house a singlo night for many a year, and into a theatre never.' " We will go, missis; and we'll contradict the lie whatever it may cost." "0, the money is nothing. Look at all the pounds the bay has sent for over six: years." . ' . The little mother's head was as high as Bcttv's now. "Very well, mem, we'll spend some or it in setting his character straight, and we will show this village we aren't afraid." _ The little mother sat with her face in her hands after Betty had departed to her kitchen to prepare tea; there was no sound but the purring of the cat. The little mother thought she felt a pair of baby hands folded on her knees, and saw a little white-robed figure kneeling: she thousht she heard a baby voice lisnins out, " Our Father, but it was not sB. The old clock chimed a quarter-past four ; it was nearly dark.

The following night two quaint figures sat in the pit stalls close to the stage. Through » determination born of a sure belief in the falsitv of the rumour, old Bettv had succeeded in getting her frail and frightened mistress through the turmoil of station, train, and citv. the doctor and his wife having goodnaturedly eiven up their seats in the theatre for that "night after hearing old Bettys tale. The old woman was so sure they would find another John than their own. that she would had strength to fight with " beasts at Enh"sus." so what were onbmen. door attendants, and " such like truck?" Now. they sat gazing at the strange advertisement" on the rlron-curtain in front of them. But even Bettv's eouraere beean to quail a little at the seething mass of peopV filling every part of the srreat building. After that came the fashionable ones of the earth, and boxes were full of scent, feathers, silk, and furbelows : and Betty grazed with a feeling of shock on the white, fleaming necks and shoulders of beautifullv-c'othed wom^n. After the flood of music ceased the curtain rose upon a. glare of Iteht and wond'rous beauty. ■ The daintilv-gloved hand of the little mother sousht the coarser one of her faithful servant, clad in its woollen mitten; the two women sat with hands locked together, as if for protection, until after a short time there appeared amoner the moving, talking figures the hero & the piece : he stood a moment with head a little bow<»d. until the wild storm of applause had subsided, then hp wont on with his part. The two women did not sneak, but their eves met, and a sob caught the breath of each. There was no doubt in either heartthe man in Roman dress, with golden bands upon his bare arms, was their own ideal John, "playactor." not preacher. It seemed strange, but it was true, that Betty long years aero had combed his curly hair, and washed his ro=v. little face. Now thev sat half-dazed with the excitement of scene after scene, watching their John keep the hmise snowbound with his wonderful eyes and voice that reached into every corner of the theatre, until, as the night wore on, he was done to death, and la-" face downward, still and quiet. To the little mother it was all real; in suite of the unusual robe he wore of glistening white, and of the strange surroundings, it was still her boy who had been done to death. So when the curtain had to bo raised over and over again in answer to the unceasing clamour, she saw nothing; and when the hero came in front, leading by the hand the heroine, with ruffled hair and beautiful white face, Betty whisnered, "Has he got married, too, missis, and never told us? Ah, but he's grand whatever he has done." But the little mother's eyes were closed. Bettv's wild appeals gained her a reluctant, admission at last to the irroat man's room, and it was in the actor's arms the little mother was carried. He was still in his stage dress a few men who had come to speak to him stood back, feeling that it was sacred ground. The little mother was placed gently in a lounge chair, and the man knelt before her, his head on her l.in. Betty hovered near, like a bird watching her young. Someone was seeking a doctor. The little lady's eves wore firm, she could see no paint upon hi« face, only a glimpse of the white robe. "Forgive me, mammy: forgive me," he sobbed, and the men turned away their heads, for the passion of grief upon the stage had been as "nothing to this behind the scenes. The little mother thought she was back in the quiet parlour at home, and that her hero was a boy again as she had thought the previous dav. Tha strong neck was that of '.', little child's, ard the firelitrht was gloaming on its white nightdress. Her hand rested on his curly head. "Forgive you, Johnny? What have you done? Never mind, dear, if you are sorry; it is late and dark; fro on with your prayers." " Mother. Tam more than sorry. T would have'told you years ago, but T knew it would hurt you : forgive me. Can't you hear me, little mother?" She smiled and murmured words, thinking she heard her child's voice repeating its Paternoster: but it was a strong man, with fame at his feet, sobbing on her knee. Faithful Betty's rough hand rested on the " play-actor's" shoulder as the doctor entered the room, and her trembling voice whispered. "Master John, don't take on so; she's at rest, dear heart." The little Puritan-soul had passed out of the theatre, content and happy. Fire: W. F. Tucker is able to inform his customers and the public generally that he has taker, suitable premises in Commercestreet, top floor. Parcel Delivery Agency, where his manufactory will be in future. SULPHOLINE SKIN LOTION. 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