The storyteller.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXIV, Issue 1, 30 April 1897, Page 21

The storyteller.

IN THE BATTLE FOR BREAD.

THE STORY OF MAUD POYNTER.

(By T. Spabbow in Ate Maria.")

CHAPTER 111.— DISTRESS. In the little church where she had been married Maud was praying. No tears trickled down the thin white cheeks, — her grief was too deep for that ; no sigh came from the pallid, bloodless lips ; no restless motion of the tight-clasped hands betrayed the anguish of her soul. Only the sorrow-laden eyes were fast fixed on the Tabernacle, pleading as words could not plead for help, for hope — for the life of the one being she loved on earth. Only God oould give her what she wanted ; only God could understand the ■depth of her fears and her woe. Dusk deepened into dark, and shadows fluttered among the Aisles, as rays from the votive lamps fell on petitioners moving away. The wealthy finished their orisons before the gleaming white statue of the Sacred Heart or the gem-bedecked altar of Our Lady, and softly rustled in the creeping gloom to their carriages waiting outside. The poor dragged themselves away from the figure of the Dead Christ in His Mother's arms, kissed their beads, and streamed out again to their work of weary toil. Only Maud Rooney remained kneeling at the Communion railing. The sanctuary lamp shed a halo on the sweet, plaintive face that was hardly earthly in its transparency and pallor. Soon the ■expression changed. She had been speaking mutely to her Lord, then He spoke wordlessly to her. The calm of her soul had been stirred, but the restless waters were still at His bidding ; the tired lamb lay meekly at His feet, and the breaking heart knew peace. " Lord, Thy will, not mine, be done 1 " she sighed faintly, fully grasping all that that prayer might mean ; and she clasped her white hands across her breast and bowed her fair young head ; while tears, half sweet, half sad, relieved the overwrought brain. And from the dimness of the shadowing arch emerged the figure of a woman, with bloated face and distraught air, swaying at every step she took. When she caught sight of Maud she Btopped and shivered from head to foot ; then fell on her knees, forced by the Baintlineß6 which radiated from her friend's face. A rush of better feelings overpowered poor Nellie, and rocking herself to and fro, she sobbed aloud. Maud rose at once and went to her. " Nellie," she whispered, taking the rough hand, " give your trouble to God. But her light touch only increased the agitation of the weeping woman. " How can you bear to come near me ? " she cried shrinking away. "My husband has killed yours, and Tom would never have gone but for me." Maud's reply was to tighten her hold of her friend's hand. "We are in trouble together," she replied. " Let us forget and forgive. Bill would never lay a hand on my husband willingly, and no word shall ever pass our lips as to who struck the blow. I can promise for Tom and myself." The bleared eyes of the crouching' woman were raised doubtfully to Maud's. "Dj you mean it ? " she faltered. " Yes," said Maud firmly, forcing her lips to speak the fateful "word. " Look, Nellie, at that crucifix " — pointing up to one. lifefiize, that loomed above them in the gloom. "My Saviour and your Saviour forgave His murderers. Are we, poor sinners not to help one unother/ O Nellie" — and the great tears glistened on the speaker's lashes, — '• will you uot let your heart be softened ? God has sent you a heavy trial ; but will you not try to bear whatever is foefore you as a punishment for the sins of the past ? Promise Him to begin from to-night a new life ; and let us never forget that we, and those we love so dearly, are His in life or iv death." Side by side the sinner and the saint mingled their prayers in one ; and as they walked up the fog-filled street there lingered round Maud's lips the sweetness of the prayer she had whispered to her Lord. They parted at the corner, — Nellie going to the prison where Bill was lodged waiting his trial ; while Maud pursued her way to the hospital where Tom lay dangerously wounded. He had not yet recovered consciousness. Twice a policeman had called for him to identify the man who ,had struck the cowardly blow ; but each time the doctors had forbidden him to be disturbed He had lost so much blood his weakness was intense, and his mind rambled greatly at intervals. Maud had been allowed to sit by him daily, but he had never recognised her until now. When she approached tremulously, with the half-anxious smile parting her childlike lips, his eyes warmed into feeling and he murmured : " My wife — my little Maud ! " Controlling herself with an effort, Maud knelt by his side and passed her hand caressingly through his hair. " Dear Tom," she said in her low, musical voice, "it is nice indeed to ccc you better. But lie very quiet and do not try to talk." He shut his eyes peacefully, content to know that Bhe was near. And her heart throbbed with thankfulness that perhaps her prayers were going to be heard at last. She sat with his hand in hers, watching the laboured breathing and fitful colour of the wounded man. Twenty minutes was the duration of her visit, and in that time she had to accomplish much. Nellie and her two ■delicate, starving babies rose before her, and in her new-found joy •she was not unmindful of Nellie's sorrow.|

" Tom 1 " she whispered, gently. He opened his eyes and smiled on her. " Tom dear," she said, do you know who struck you that night at the Bar ' " He nodded. " But you will never tell 7 " she went on persuasively, linking her fingers in his. "If you do not get better, he will be tried for murder; and what is to become of his poor wife and children? Nobody seems to be sure who did it. Several have been arrested, and perhaps all will be acquitted. You know, Tom, everything depends on your evidence." He thought for a moment, then said, painfully : " I oan't let the wrong man be charged. " No," replied his wife ; " but it may happen that, unless you charge one man in particular, no one will be oondemned. Will you promise me, Tom, for her sake, to be silent unless honour demands 7 " " Not for lier sake but for yours 1 " he said at last, with a proud smile at his noble wife ; and no more passed between them but a few words of prayer and hope. Then Maud glided away with joy in her heart, and very tender was her touch that night as she put Nellie's wee ones to rest. Times were bad for both the young wives, but they pressed on strioken Nellie most. Though Tom's pay admitted of no reserve funds, their frugal habits enabled Maud at least to contract no debts ; while his club money secured the rent and a trifle for food and fuel. It cut Maud to the heart, amid all her trouble, that she could do so little for Nellie. Her rent was unpaid for many weeks ; her husband had been in no club ; and the neighbours, knowing her drunken habits, refused her food on credit. But Maud was indefatigable as a friend. She went to the priest, explained the case, and got soup tickets and clothes for the children. She persuaded a neighbour or two to give Nellie a day's charring, and was very sympathetic and kind when the penitent woman handed in her earnings and begged Maud to use them to the best advantage for her. Sorrow had broken Nellie down completely. She had truly loved her husband, and knew only too well that it was her conduct which had driven him to evil courses. If Tom died, Bill might be tried for murder ; if he recovered, Bill would stand his trial for manslaughter. For the unhappy fellow made no secret of his guilt. " I did it, and I must suffer for it," he said doggedly to all Nellie's pleadings for silence. " 1 was blind with drink and rage. If Tom dies, I murdered him." For the first time in her life Nellie learned to respect her boy husband, and had a glimmering of what she might have made him if she had only tried. Meanwhile the Catholic chaplain of the gaol was much taken with Bill's uncompromising attitude, and gave him instruction and advice, which the young man, now, thoroughly sobered, gratefully received. And Maud — fair, shadowy Maud, with her constant cough and hectic colour, and the eyes that shone with such a strange, unearthly glow — stood firmly, staunchly by Nellie through it all. Day by day through wind, snow or rain, she trudged bravely to the hospital for her twenty minutes' stay with Tom, Often he was too weak to speak ; sometimes he scarcely knew her. But Tom was not to be teased about trifles, and his mind could not comprehend what she was enduring for his sake. Between life and death he hovered for twenty-one weary days, and then the body recovered before the mind regained its balance after the nervous shock. The trial was postponed in hope of his recovery, and Maud grew frailer and frailer day by day. The suspense was telling on her, also the horrible dread of the future. She knew he would never be fit to work again, and what could she do to support two lives t Only her faith in God kept her up, — the faith that never wavered ; that put to shame that of thousands around her who had never been tested as she had been. "God is so good ! " was the nearest approach to a murmur I ever heard from her lips. " Whatever He does, He makes me feel it's for the best. And I could only bow my head and feel God was indeed good to let one so akin to His angels live among us for a little while. Her influence over Nellie was immense ; her very voice soothed the woman whose path in life was over rough places. Attacks of despair are common with inebriates, and Maud knew how to dispel these when they came on ; to kindle hope when hope was all but dead. And all the time both the girls were always hungry ; both were hardly clad ; both had to endure the mental torture of knowing those they loved were suffering, too. And then, worst pain of all, there was the awful future before them. Deprived of their lawful protectors, neither of them twenty-one, they had to face the world, — to drag on somehow, delicate, defenceless, and almost alone. I do not want to harrow my readers' feelings by exaggerating the perils of the poor ; but I do wish people to realise how terribly they are beset on every side ; and that one hardly ever goes down into the deep waters of sin and crime without some sort of feeble struggle. Another serious trouble was in store for Nellie. The landlord pressed for his rent. He had waited many weeks, and saw no chance of arrears being paid up. It was easy to find a more profitable lodger ; and to have one whose husband was in prison did not conduce to the respectability of the house. So one night when Nellie came home she found the brokers in possession. The law in this country with regard to such matters seems somewhat strange ; at all events, in its dealings with the poor. A man is sent with orders to see that the furniture and other belongings are not disposed of or injured till the number of hours mentioned in the writ has expired. If the rent is not paid up then, everything becomes the property of the landlord, and he can sell over the tenant's head or remove what he pleases. To execute his orders the broker-man, as he is called, often considers it necessary

not to lose sight of the defaulter ; and as in Nellie's case there was only one room, it put her in an awkward dilemma. Nellie's temper, none of the best, could not stand this unexpeoted blow. She raved at the man, and ordered him out of the room ; and when he told her he was authorised not to move from there for twenty-four hours, she flung herself on the bed and went into violent hysterics. Even Maud at first could do little with her, and still less the man. She dared not take them into her room ; for to eke put her income she already had another lodger, and to overcrowd is punishable by law. Under the present circumstances, it would not do to risk detention. She sent a note round to my house. I was away from home, but my domestic gave her a shilling. Poor, hungry Maud brightened at the sight of the money. She knew that the broker-man got no food except what the landlord gave him ; she knew, too, that he was almost as poor as herself ; and that if the man in possession got one meal of bread and cheese, washed down by a pot of ale, he might think himself lucky. So she bought a plateful of fried fish and smoking potatoes — a great delicacy in those quarters ; she made him some fresh tea ; and, taking these up the dirty winding staircase, she entered Nellie's room. " Now," she said, in her pleasant, soft voice, " I have brought you some supper, sir ; and I want you to eat it on the landing while I put this poor girl to bed." Tho broker-man looked dubiously first at the meal, and then at the donor. The smell tempted him ; for he was very hungry, and he knew that was all he should get to eat that night. Maud completed her victory by pushing into his hand a paper containing some tobacco, saying with her sweet smile : "Go and eat your supper while it is hot, sir ; and take the candle with you." She held the door open and he found himself outside. Maud's work was half begun. Distracted Nellie was rocking herself to and fro, and shrieking at intervals for some one to save her from being turned into the streets without a penny. The children cried because their mother cried ; and while Maud gently hushed one in her arms, she let the other little one nestle in the folds of her dress. And all the time she was talking gently to Nellie, — promising, if she would only lie quiet and still, she would keep the broker-man away until morning, when surely God would help. Presently the sobs began to subside ; and, worn out by her own tempestuous passion, Nellie fell fast asleep. Very softly Maud placed the little ones by their mother ; then, hearing footsteps outside, she opened the door noiselessly. " Very sorry, ma'am," said the broker-man civilly, rubbing his mouth with his sleeve ; " but I shall have to disturb you now. The young party inside seems inclined to make a fuss, and if I did not keep an eye on her she might set fire to the place," Maud laid her hand beseechingly on the broker-man's arm. " Won't you trust me ? " she asked winningly. "If I sleep with her and give you the key of the door, won't you allow me to make you up a bed on the landing ? We have no fire, and you have the only light we possess." He looked in the pure, sweet face, attractive even to his hardened mind, and, with a gruff " Have your way, ma'am," he gave in. Maud was as good as her word. She brought him some warm coverings ; and then, shivering and coughing, she crept into the cold, tireless room, and, pulling her shawl round her, lay down on a couch by the window. The stars above gave the only light ; and surely they gleamed on no fairer sight than this girl in her rags, with a soul stainless as the snow which lay thick on the ground outside. Little sleep did Maud get that night — her cough prevented any rest ; but she passed the lagging hours in praying that succour might come. Day dawned chill and grey as, with stiffened limbs and aching heart, Maud commenced her work of charity. She brought the last bundle of chip she possessed, and, raking up a little coal dust, made the last fire they were likely to see for many a weary day. The last tea was put in the teapot, the last scraps of crust were handed round ; and when all was ready the broker-man was cheerfully invited to share their humble fare. When Maud made the Sign of the Gross and began their simple grace, the man covered his face with his hand and. his eyes grew suddenly dim. Years and years ago his mother had taught him the same. A. gulf lay between then and now — a gulf of recJdess deeds and prayerless decades of sin. He had denied his faith, he had turned his back upon God. Yet at the sight of this young girl's earnest faith a sudden rush of remorse and sorrow overwhelmed his soul. "/ was a Catholic once," something prompted him to say, almost in spite of himself ; and Maud's look of sympathy made him add : "And you needn't think I like the dirty piece of work I am doing now." By the end of the meal he had confided that he was a widower and had lost his only child of diphtheria. A little later he had the elder boy on his knee, and an hour after that he was helping to peel the potatoes which a few pence from his own pocket had secured for their dinner. Still, though they had made an enemy into a friend, it was out of his power to stay proceedings, and the outlook seem d hopeless. The sky was dull and leaden, the frost was very bitter and you would have thought that in no civilised land could a heart, be found hard enough to turn a starving mother with two tiny babes into the street. Maud went to the hospital in the afternoon with a heart so heavy she could hardly give Tom smile for smile. On her way home she entered the church, as was her wont, to lay her crosses at the feet of Christ ; and when she returned she tried, but in vain, to soften the landlord into giving Nellie one more night. But he was inexorable. " There's the workhouse for such as she, and it's good enough for her and her lot." Slowly Maud climbed the stairs, loth to tell Nellie of this new disappointment. But cold misery had made Nellie too numb to care.

She sat in a chair in the corner, looking blankly before her ; while the broker-man wrapped up the elder child in his own coat, and was walking up and down with the younger in the futile endeavour to keep it and himself warm. " I have done my best," said Maud, trying to keep her voioe steady ; " but it seems as if God wished you to be very near to Him on Calvary. Nellie, if you must go, don't walk about the streets all mgEiPSit is snowing hard. Go to the workhouse, dear ; at least, it is a shelter." Nellie shook her head doggedly. " I could never look Bill in the face," she said, in a dull, far-off tone, "if I went there. Besides, they take the children away." " But what will you do ?" asked Maud, almost in despair. " Throw myself into the river " — in the same absent way. Maud was too wise to argue ; she saw that for the time being Nellie's brain had given way. " I pawned my hat for you," she said, trying to divert her thoughts ; " but I could raise only threepence on it." And she slipped the coppers into Nellie's hand. And now a quarter to eight had struck ; and the broker-man, no longer able to repress his emotion, signed they would have to go. Passively Nellie rose to her feet and took the baby from his arms. " Thank you 1" she said, quietly. He raised the other' little one up and carried it for her downstairs. When they got to the front door Maud motioned him to give it to her. " Did you think I would desert my friend ?" Bhe remarked simply, seeing his surprise ; and, hatless and shawlless, she followed Nellie into the cold and snow.

(To be concluded.')