Information Wanted

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLI, Issue 6, 5 August 1908, Page 55

Information Wanted

By

HENRY KIRK

How one who looked wistfully up from reading; a book of life saw that the sun was shining.

8 ELMA -JANSEN. waited until the last of her girls had gone before she left the spinning-room. She saw that everything was in ’readiness for the following morning. and then went out of the mill, pausing only at the entrance to speak to the watchman in inquiry after an ailing baby. At the corner of the street she met the foreman of the mill, who paused, as'if he hoped that she might do more than bow to him, but the girl only inclined her head and went on. She passed through the streets of the grimy mill town, now alive with mill hands released from their daily toil. Many of them looked at Selma as the foreman had done, but witfi the smaller degree of assumption that went with their lowlier positions. None, however, received more than a faint bpw and a smile. Selma had been in Grayville for three years, and in that time had worked herself 1 up from a very humble beginning in the huge silk mill to the very head of one of the most important weaving departments. No one knew very much about her, except that she was Swedish, that she, was pretty. and quiet, and that she. lived simply. -This"- prettiness and simplicity had woven itself into the dreams of niafiy a man in Grayville-;-, but the dreams had all come to nothing, and the favour of Selma ; Jensen .-remained as far away and as intangible as the .very stuff those dreams were made of. The girl pursued her way through the narrow streets of' the old mill town, pausing at last before a very tiny house. She opened the gate, and went up the little path between the two very modest flower-beds. In the hall she found a letter, and went out again upon the porch to read it. The letter was from Sweden; but as it was in a woman’s handwriting, her heart held none of the thrills which seemed so eager to come, every night at just this time, when she looked for a letter upon the little table in the hall. She sat down upon a low chair upon the poreh and read her letter. It was from Olga, her sister in Stockholm, and contained simply the news that. Selma might expect her sister upon the following'steamer. She folded the letter in her hand and looked <mt over the little floyyer-beds, and over the tops of the houses to the sky beyond. The last light of the day was slowly , fading into the shadows of the night. The thin circlet of the libw’ nmon was beginning to form itself in the dark. She thought of her sister’s coming and of the change it would' make in her life. She thought of a .thpusand other things —Of her own beautiful country, where it was not dark now’; but clear and light. How would Olga reconcile herself to the long nights at this time of the year? She thought of- Stockholm, and Gray- ‘ vibe seemed uglier thaii, pver. The rowj of dingy brick houses opposite stared at her as she tire head of King' Oscar upon the envelope; and she. thought of King Oscar’s palace, and of all the other things site mid left behind her when she turned her face to this new country: ' '*'■ ' 1 ’ Then there was Joseph—back there in her own land', there wai-qalways Joseph, It was impossible for her to smile nt anyi one—the,'foreman,-or the when there was Always Joseph, the com-’ puulon of her infancy, the sweetheart of

her Jater years—always Joseph, and as far away as if he had never- existed! Selma rose and went into the house. She got her little supper and ate it, and as she washed and put away the dishes she thought how Olga was coming. Now she would no longer sit alone—no longer feel that things were empty* When she left her work there would be some one waiting for her. She would rather hold the thought that there might be a letter from Joseph, but Joseph did not know where she was; but Joseph did not know where she was. Olga had written little of him, and she herself did not even know where he was; but when Olga came she would ask her. She would ask her everything, and l even if her heart broke, she would listen to. it all. She went out upon the porch, and sat again in the low ehair in which she had read her sister’s letter. The stars were all out, and the moon was lower in the sky, almost touching the top of the house opposite. The foreman of the mill passed. “Good evening, Miss Jansen,” he said, raising his hat. “Good evening.” The girl bowed her head. ' “Pleasant, isn't it!”' The man stood at the gate. “Very.” The girl scarcely sniiledybut added quickly, as though she felt that she should 1 say something: “I heard from Annie Richardson. She will be at work again in the morning.” Annie Richardson . was one of her girls, and had been on the sick list for some days. The man made some trivial remark, then, after a moment’s hesitation' laised his hat and went on.'. Selma looked after him. That was one thing, she thought—the men in America had treated her well and had given her every consideration and emir-.' tesy. There was not a man in the mill, from the night- watchman to the. foreman and the owner himself, wiio'-did not accord her a proper attention and respect. There was no reason -why they should not do .so, but Selina was grateful. \ She looked after the retreating form of- the foreman, and thought of Joseph., If it were only he, how different-it would be! Here was this man within sound of her voice, and, Jqseph thousands of miles awayShe thought again of Olga, who would

and strong and brave! What has become of our parents’ fortune? It is gone! Who knows that it was not taken from us to give—him? I loved him- I should have gone with him, in the face of all the world —but you know how afraid we were of our parents. Fear of one’s patents—how awful it is! There must be something wrong always when it is there.” She paused and stared on into the Stars. The smile of bitterness had left her, but the bitterness nemained, Then her face softened. “Did you see him?” she whispered. "Joseph? No.” Olga shook her head. “But 1 hear of him in the papers. He is in the state council, and is a great man. Why does he not look for you, Selma? Aunt Trude is very ill, they say, in Christiania. There was no use in going to her. "You should see the old place, Selma. You would not know it —tilings are. so changed and different. Ah, I am glad I have left it all behind me. “What ugly houses, Selma! Have they no palaces in America?” “Not in Grayville, Olga; but there are many wonderful things here. Some day we shall travel and see them all. It is a great land. “So Joseph is in the state council ? Do you remember when we were children, Olga? We were happy, then. Why can we not be happy always? “He was a dear child—a dear boy.We loved each other then, though we did not know it until the days thatcame after. What is this thing we call money ? If our parents were living now they would seek to bring us together, since he has it; but I swore that I would never seek him. I have kept my oath, and I am cursed since I have kept it!” The tears came very quickly. “Joseph! Joseph! I have kept my oath, and I am cursed in keeping it!” She.. buried her face in her sister’s arms, and the blessed tears brought relief. Several Sundays later, Selma spread out for her sister’s inspection one of the Sunday papers. “This is America, Olga,” she said. “Imagine reading all this! See, here are some of the American palaces. They are not old, like those in Sweden, but they are very beautiful. They say not even in ancient Rome were there such feasts, so splendid arc Hie yhere. in this country. See how tine must be those marble columns,' and it says that this room was taken whole' from an old palace in Italy—the walls? ceiling, furniture, and all!” Site sjiread out the picture supplement. TYou see what money will do,’ Olga. You must learn to read English.' It will not be bard. Ah, Olga, you cannot know how happy I am in having you with me! It is good to know that there is someone waiting fof me. The day’s work loses all its terrors. Olga gave a little, .exclamation. “What is this?!’ she eried, staring at. an elaborate page of pictures. “That—do not look at it!” Selinaturned the page quickly. “It is one of those awful murders. It is what they" setni to like. 1 am glad he does not defend murderers. Divorce and murder, —it is frightful! See, this whole page is for people out of work, and here are, paragraphs about missing people. I read them sometimes; there are. often Swedish names. ;■ ".Why. here is- out name, Olga!” The girl started violently. “It is for me!’-, she said quickly. “Yes—listen!" ‘lf, Selma Marie Jansen, of Stockholm, will communicate with John Brack, Unity

be with her in a few days—her little baby sister, Olga! She would no longer be alone, and sometimes she would forget the aching that never seemed to leave her. She gave a last look at the stars, and went into the house. i® ;« w.« Selma counted the days, down to the minutes and seconds, for the coming of Olga. The last day seemed interminable. The hours literally dragged, and once or twice she felt that she would have to throw herself into the canal, or do something to ease the gnawing in her heart. It was not Olga alone who was coming, but also the recounting of dead days, and the spirits of other hours that were now in a long ago. When she got home she found Olga awaiting her. The steamer was ahead of time, and the girl had come on to Grayville before her scheduled arrival. Selma kissed her passionately—her little Olga, her baby sister! She kissed her eyes, her hands, her hair—and wept softly. “My little sister —my baby Olga!” she said, over and over. “Ah, Selma!” the girl sighed. "It was so long coming! It is a strange country, How call you.live here?” - “It has. not been living, Olga—l do not know what jt ha been. But are with me now” and it shall all feedifferent!” " - . The two sisters sat on the, little porch late that night and talked long tc.geth-' er. “It is the same moon, Selma,” whispered Olga, “and the same stars.- And you are my Selma; but there is nothing else like home.” j/Selina- held her closer. “There is no place like our. beautiful country, Olga; but this, is our home now, and we shall be happy here. It has been good to.; me,.-this. America, and so we shall love it together. How did it all look:when-yo-u left?”; ' z . ■ i “I-left soihe roses upop.’our,parents’, tomb. ..When I; had . clone that there .was nothing else to do!” Selma looked'up : at the stars, and a half-bitter smile came. into her; face; “Our.-.parents'!”; she .said in a low voice.“Why is it; Unit they .do i)ot always, know ? Since th<*y .do not—They should let .us think sometimes for ourselves!” . 1. “Selma.! r ; J. > “Olga, what can I do but think of it and blame myself? Joseph was young

Club, New York City, she will hear of something to her advantage.’ ” “For you, Selma 1” “It must be, though there are many Selma Marie Jansens in StQckholm. I shall write to Mr. Brack to-night. Per-’ haps Aunt Trude is dead!” “Yes,” echoed the younger girl, “perhaps she has left us some money!” “I wonder — I wonder!” Selma looked intently at the paper. “What a great country, Selma—what a wonderful paper! Yes, let us write at once. Will you write in English?” The letter was written and sent t<r Mr. John Brack at the Unity Club, New York City. Three days went by slowly. Selma wondered what was going to come to her. If Aunt Trude were dead, it would not matter very much financially. Aunt Trude had some money, but she had been making her own way. If it had only come a little sooner it might have been different, but now there was only one thought that mattered, and the fulfilment of that thought would not come through money. The old days and the old life were dead and behind her. She had Olga with her, and there was nothing in the world for her —save one man, who was now a state councillor. And she was a forewoman in a Crayvillc silk mill! There Was a difference between them that was more than of miles. The fourth day came, and with it came Mr. John Brack. He was a tall, dignified man, with a blond beard and a quiet, judicial air. “I am John Brack,” ho said, when Selma opened the door. “You are—” “Yes,” the girl replied slowly, under her breath, ‘1 am Selma Marie Jansen, of Stockholm, though there are many Selma Marie Jansens. I do not know—won’t you come in?" The man followed her into the little parlour. “You w'ere born in Stockholm?” he queried. “Yes, sir, in Stockholm; but in the suburbs, almost in the country,” “Your father was —” “Peter John Jansen, and my mother—■ Marie Christina Bunsen.” Mr. Brack nodded his head. Selma leaned back in her chair. “Yes, yes, it must be that you are looking for me. Is my Aunt Trude dead —Mrs. Guttman? My sister is with me. Shall I call her?” “In a moment.” The man took some papers from his pocket. “These are my credentials,” he said. “I have been in America for three months, looking for you. Your aunt, Mrs. Guttman, is not dead, but T have a legacy for you from another relative, a very near one.” “Another near relative?” Selma looked up in wonder. “But I have no other near relative —that is, none who could possibly leave me money. There- is onb- 01,1 Uncle Peter Hofer, in Norway; but they have nothing!” The man shook his head. r “Who is it, then?” “My dear young lady”—he smiled faintly—“what does it matter, since you have the money? It is here —amounting in all to ten thousand dollars, in American money.” He started to count out a roll of bills. Ten thousand dollars! Selma looked strangely at the man, then clutched her throat. “I could buy back the old place,” she said faintly. “You did not know it?” “I have seen it,” he said. “A quaint old place. 1 visited it once. I knew one of your playmates

“Joseph—Joseph Uhlman?” she almost whispered, in her effort to control herself.. She rose from her chair and went to the window, although there was nothing to be seen in the darkness outside save a light or two in the opposite houses. “Yes. He is now in the state council. Did you not know it?” “My sister told me. I do not hear much from home.” She came back from the window and sat down again. She did not look at him, nor at the money in his hand, but upon the floor. “And you—know—him!” She loosened her collar. Mr. Brack nodded. “Yes, I saw him in Christiania just before I left. I—er —see you are not married.” The girl spoke up very quickly. “Married!” Then she laughed a little, but there was no mirth in the sound. “Married! No. Is—is—” She tugged at her collar again. “Mr. Uhlman?” Mr. Brack dropped some of his bills and stooped to pick them up. “Mr. Uhlman married? No.” “No!” Selma rose again from her chair. The man rose after her. “You will forgive me, Mr. Brack,” she said, “but I am not well. So, if I seem strange —why—” She laughed again. “It has been a long day—and my sister, coming, and you. Here is a picture of my father, and this, of my mother. I shall show you the certificates of my birth and baptism. Did you know my parents?” The man was looking earnestly at the portraits. “Ah, yes, I remember them. I had some business with them at one time.” He looked straight into the two faces in the photographs—two cold faces, hard and calculating, and showing clearly the spirit which had juggled with their children’s happiness. He put down the pictures quickly, as if he had looked at them too long, and laid the money on the table. “I wish I knew —” The girl stared at the bills—this fortune that had so suddenly come to her. “Some day you may,” he said, then looked for his hat. “You are going back to Sweden, Mr. Brack? You will not wait to see my sister? But when you go you will be—■with —Mr. Uhlman!” “Yes.” The man was looking at her curiously, but she (/id not know it. Her heart was too full—and her eyes. ‘You will remember me—to him. If you will —tell him—that I—do not—forget him—l—” Very quickly she looked up at the man before her and gave a sudden cry. “Who are you—who are you?” The man came nearer and held out his arms. “Selma!” he said simply, “Joseph!” “You think of me, Selmat” . “Joseph! Joseph!” He took her into his arms, and she sobbed out her sorrow and joy. “I had sworn to my parents, Joseph, to leave you! What could I do but keep that oath, though it ■was not registered in heaven?” “I have looked for yqti many months, Selma. I had heard that Olga was with you, long ago —but I have found you now! ” “Joseph! Joseph! You have come to me! There is nothing else in all the world now, since you are with me. I thought of you always. I could hear your voice above all the looms; there was no sound that could drown it. 1 could see you in the stars, and you were

in my,heart. Joseph! Joseph—you—• did—think of me!” “You shall come back with me, Selma ' —Mrs. Councillor Uhlman—my dear love, my dear heart!” “And this was from you!” She looked from him to the bills on the table. The man laughed. “Was I not —am I not a near—relative ?” “My Joseph—l cannot think!” “But you must tell me that—am I not —something to you?” Selma raised her eyes to his. They* were full of happy tears. “Something—to me!” she whispered. “Something! Only my life and death—this world and the next—and all that comes after!”