INTO THE SUNSHINE.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXX, Issue 47, 20 November 1902, Page 23

INTO THE SUNSHINE.

' Dwell who will in the valley below I go up into tine sunshine ! Free and warm and glad in its piny, Light and life are in every day. Burning to bwerhtcr nnd brighter da> . Let who tv ill in the valley stay, 1 go up into the sunshine ! A clear, birdlike young voice sang the words, and they were borne on the scented summer air from a ilowerluden garden through the long, open windows of a richlvappointed room. But though the song was full of cheer and the surroundings delightful, no joy, or e\cn passing pleasure was brought through all to the solitary listener, the occupant of the handsome apartment and the mistress of the splendid home, of which it was a pait. A little, shrivelled woman, well towards middle life , yes, ' shrivelled ' describes her ; always plain of lace, manred sti.ll more by grieving and disease, which last had also distorted the frail form, so that few could oin- the sola heiress ol the late Judgo Vernon, notwithstanding her great wealth. •Oh papa, papa ! ' she moaned in new anguish, as Iho singer moved on and the words became maudnble. ' There is no sunshine for your poor Allio, any more, now that you have gone away from her — away behind those awful clouds that dark, dark night— And whore? oh where ? Into the darkness, papa dear, far, far, far from your Allie. And you left her in darkness here, there to stay until she goes" out into the night too, Oh, if that could only be now !— if 1 could go and meet you, then would the sunshine come to me— no matter how deep the night all about us. But to linger on here alone, alone — no one to care for me— the poor, deformed creature, the insignificant little cripple who can only buy attention with money ' Not a lov my thought or a real kindness to expect from ah\ ing soul ! Oh, 1 cannot bear it — I cannot bear it t ' With arms outstretched and face between, pressed against the polished mahogany table as she half stood, half lay, sobbing wildly. Judge Vernon had died suddenly a month before, seated in his library. He had passed away some time after midnight, when a fierce tempest was raging without. Alice, aroused by the storm and fnghtened, had rone to the library both to chide her lather lor remaining so late and to seek his company, when she found tho hand upon which hers nested rigid m death. The shock almost destroyed the life, then the reason of the bereft daughter — the cherished. Idolised daughter. •who was now utteily alone m the world, and wiio had sad need of solace and love. Wealth was hers indeed, but as to all else that makes life fair, she was poor as the meanest pauper. She was unlovely, feeble in health and deformed in body Timid and resenved, clinging only to the one parent she had e\ er known, and receiving from him the tenderost of a father's affection and sokcituoV To him his little Allio— his 'wed girl ' always— was tho sweetest and most beautiful of living creatures. Nothing was too good for her— no attention too lavish Hesuirounded her with luxury but more with lo\e, and sho was happy — so happy — never for one day waking .separated from ' dear papa ' But now ho was doad, and she was sick and alone — alone, and oh so lonely, so wretched and despairing Iho doctor had ordered her to tho air of this mountain hrunlet, whoro sho could ' get into tho sunshmo and gain strength/ he said. And so she had come ■> - here to the great house where she was born, and which she hod never seen sfcnce her early childhood , all her Me sim'o hay ing been spent in a splendid city home or m travel in foreign lands. She had come up to the old house with her maid only the night before unannounced even to the faithful old caretakers. And now she is seated in the drawing-room thrown open to the sunshine for tho iirst time in a full score of .voars, while her maid gathering flowers for mantel and Uiblo, carols gay notes m thegaiden beyond Tko long, weary summer day passes and tho evening falls. Alice is glad of the approach of the meht — tho sombre hours accord best with her gloomy feelings. As tho shadows gather she suddenly staits up from tho couch upon which she lias been prone for hours, onH donning a little hat with vim I closely drawn, goes hobbling across tho lawn and out upon the well-trodden path to the village. ' No, don't come with mo, Lena,' sho calls back to the maid, who is about to follow. ' I want to be alone, lam only gomg to walk a little way 1 w ill bo back presently.' So she goes down the gradually-sloping descent passing huts and cottages until presently she approaches a little frame edifice, where from a tiny belfiy a haishtoned little boll is sending out its .summons About the door is gathered a motley group, among which a company of little girls fin coarse white frocks and flowerwreathed heads are conspicuous. These form into lino, two by two, and nftor them a company of boys in white blouses and blue badges follow in tho same fashion Tho procession enters the chuich, the stragglers about the door following after. By an impulse, half in voluntary and half desire perhaps to divert her mind, Alice enters also sinking into the first seat just within.

' A Catholic church ! ' she says to herself and nazes about with contemptuous comparison of the poor, bare little temple with the magnificent cathedrals of the faiith, sho had so often visited abroad. Here are blank walls, unpainted woodwork, a bare floor, where the footfalls — tho tramp of coarsely-shod feet, resound distressingly. The altar, a cheap wooden structure, is scarcely made attractive by a profusion of common garden flowers. But the people assembled seem content and devout withal. From tho old woman beside hen in the print gown running a big wooden rosary through her rough, red hands, to the rapt young priest, -whose profile looks so like the pictured saints of some of the masters, all are lost to earth, upraised beyond the cloud of human care as they conduct and ioin in the act of worship, so strange and incomprehensible to the one apart, the rich owner of th« mansion on the hill, but really the dweller ' in the valley Lelow.' It is a strange ceremony to a non-Catholic truly. Tho children in gala attire again form in line, the foremost carrying a littlo tinsel-fnnged banner. Toward the end of tho ranks of the girls four of the larger ones bear a flower-entwimed litter on which is a statue of the Blessed Virgin, incomes the priest in his robes carrying the Sacramental tiod, an acolyte, swinging a smoking censer, preceding him. ' O gloriosa Virgo,' sang the children, placing their burden, tho painted statue, on a flower-decked shrine. Another hymn, also in the language of the long past, then the priest made the sign of the coss with uplifted monstrance over the low-bowed, hushed assemble and ft few moments later the crowd surges out. Alice remains, lost in thought, engrossed in study of a problem which in absorbing rests her tortured mind. Tho subject of her speculation is . What is it in this singular creed which brings the seen and unseen into such close communion, which makes the mysteries beyond part and parcel of life here, which soothes and solaces every lot. gilds the commonplace and hard ways — brings all, who truly follow the light of this faith ti^ out of tho mists of the mortal sphere — up into the sunshine. Her occupation, or preoccupation, was so dee- that It was with a start she aroused as the last light was extinguished, save one glirnmening red shining alontr from the direction, doubtless coming to lock the doors, and Alice, risinsr, groped he.r way into the little vestibule. Tho priest, just turning away from the outer door, stepped aside and held it for. her to pass. it was not late, and the long summer evening had not yet faded into night, so that Alice looking up a 9 she passed the black-nobed figure, caught sight of a kindly, pttyjing look in the face that inspired her with the dosire in some way to seek his assistance. The priest by the same intuition, divined that the afflicted little stranger needed help, and as she for a moment hesitated on the step, he addressed her with a kindly, commonplace remark about the beauty of the eveningAhce, answering, turned her wistful, grief-stricken face toward him. She had pushed up her veil nnd her expression told a story of sorrow, even before her fo-lteri ing voice c;no utterance to words. ' Sir,' she said, huskily ' I am in v&ry great trouble. 1 have recently met with a sad bereavement, a loss by death which loaves me quite alone in the world I am j-hvsically afflicted also, as you see, and I have no friends— no soul who roally cares for me I havo no religion, either, nothing real, I mean, nothing that can do me any good now. Like those acquaintances whom I called fn.onds, who were pleasant to deal with when one did not need anything from thorn, I have adhered to a torm of religion — a denominational profession, you know but I find it has nothing for me in my hour of trouble' 1 havo noticed— l was noticing to-night, when I happened in hero, how this belief of yours seems to compensate for pvervthmg— seems to reach the depths and heights of human living. Will you tell me about it? Will you explain it to me, and see if I cannot get something of its solo cc— something of the enthusiasm it lends and which lightens— which seems to lisrhten even tho gloom of the^grave— tho awful gloom in which lam now despairShe. was m tears as she concluded, and the priest took her cold, trembling hand in gentle clasp. ' My child,' he said, find his voice had a iovou.s rinff fctrant*o in tho mission of consolation, ' you are uoing to bo very happy by-and-by— yes, happy beside your grave because of it. Come to me at the rectory at any hour convenient for jou to-morrow. Tt was "by no chance sad little one, you came into this church to-night" (.od s good angels led *-ou thither. You are Roinir to come often now and find here such joy and peace as you have never known You are going to bo a Catholic' Alice did not feel so confident of this last, neither desirous but she went away with a sense of hopefulness any degree in the divary weeks sinco her loss, and for tha s!ain e t i in by. B Sa?8 Wenl ' that ni « ht ° U * £»™ .i P P«° il cxt "}° nn üß'u 8 ' sho aarseo ' se refreshed and with mind to sloon tV r ■ &hG lmd conceiv ? d J us t before dronn ng to .sleep tho previous evening. She had determined tn study out in tho human side tho excellence o ? th"s rel£ S.ous system m which she was to he instructed S« would conceal her identity as the rich Miss Vernon in h-r intercourse, w,th this priast and such others horo as Mio might be brought into contact with. She would b« known only as a poor, despondent friend of the housS keeper come to make a httle visit for her health Ih£ sh,. could better learn from their conduct toward h or the depth and sincerity of their profession as the tivie follow! pis ol the great Friend of the lowlv-the ChrLt of tha manger and tho carpenter's shop at" Nazareth

Accordingly her first step that morning, it will be remembered that she only arrived one day before — was to dispatch her. majid Lena on a visit of weeks to a rolativo in a Village several miles distant. Pier next move was to have the house closed up again, save, as before she came, the caretaker's quarters. Here she took the little room that was to have been Lena's, gave the housekeeper and her good man strict injunction that she was to bo known only as Alice Fayne, this last her middle. name, a friend come to visit them, and that on no account must it be made known to any that she was really mistress of tho place. Her visits to the rectory hegan that afternoon nilf l were faithfully continued. Her zealous tutor found her aptitude great and disposition of the best, so it was not a month later when he was able to pronounce her ready for reception into the One Fold — for citizenship in tho Land of Sunshine. And had the promised happiness come to her, at least begun to dawn, on her night of woe? Ah ! \es. truly You would scarcely have known the little woman, who toiled up the hill now each morning from the early Mass, and again from her afternoon visit — that is, to take note from her countenance. The drawn expression is gone, the lustreless eyes are full of life and observation, and m their depths, too, is that look of a vision beyond ; sho is nearing the heights — ' going up into the sunshine.' And she has met with such genuine, such disinterested human sympathy, too. Tho little rectory is a very homo to her, the grey-haired, gentle, motherly woman, who has its domestic arrangements in charge, at tho hint of tho priest took tho forlorn fledging under hor wing, so to speak, and has formed the demands of generous Christian charity. Alice gets such potting and coddling from good Mrs Dunn at the rectory, that she often closes her eyes during the administration and imagines papa is with her once more. Father Hensiion, too,, is kindness and solicitude personified, even though to him she is a needy, afflicted cneature only. with no common interests sa\oher desire to learn tho truths of faith. She has taken caro not to let him know sho is finely bred and highly educated, though, of course, he percei\e.s that she is not uncouth or really ugnorant in a literary sense. ' And so it is all true,' she sa>s to herself o\or and over again, 'there are people who are not all self — who can minister to and care for the unfortunate from tho highest motives — who can o\en cherish and be demoted to those they befriend.' Sho is now thinking, with heart bounding with dolight, of the rewards she will lavish in return Father Hension has promised to got her a place as seamstress with tho only family of moans in his congregation, when they return from their summer sojourn at the seashoio in a week or two more. She smiles as "-ho thinks of his concern that sho should find means of maintaining hoi - self in this place, wheie she has come to feel so much contentment. What a grand surprise it will lie for tho good Father to learn that sho is rich, -very iuh, and that she can bestow material benefits on the neodv onos about, whose caro so taxes him, instead of adding to the number. She has heard of the demiso of Judge Vornon spokon of regretfully — and it w - as only by a groat effort that sho was able to maintain composure at theso allusions It had always been hoped that the ludgo would some tlav come back to tako up his lesidence, c\en temporarily \n tho old home, and extend some of his immense, capital on the languishing industries of the little \illago lonu neglected The people at the mills — and tho Irulk ot tho population of the place wns employed thet o — wore haidl\ abie to gain tho poorest livelihood, tho w,i\ tln xc institutions were being conducted Alice looked back at tho tall chimneys and thought with delight how she would replenish the fires below, put in new appliances and now life everywhere, and she thanked (Jod over and over again that she was so blessed in tho ability to woik to such vast good. Sho had heard herself spoken of, too, the indue s only daughter — fortune's favored child They ha\o not soon her since sho wont away, a plain little girl. 120 odd -inn is ago, nor heard aught of her, so it is not known that she is feeble- and physically afflicted It is presumed that sho is a lady of fashion, possibly wedded to souk 1 nobleman in those foreign countries, wheie most of her life has been spent. It is never expected that sho will como back to live in this dull, out-of-the-way mountain town, but rather that the Vernon interests hoi.c will bo disposed of to others in the early future No wonder then that tho faded little woman has iov in the glad surprise she is about to unfold, and the woik sho has planned to follow, ns she coos no to hor homo this last evening but one before her baptism Her maid is to return that night, the house is to l<o again and permanently thrown open on the morrow Then Father Hension is to be united to call, and, with humble apology, tho identity of his poor neophyte made known to him. At tho same time he is In bo presented with a check to pay off that l.TOOdols debt on tho little church, even the keeping up the interest on winch taxes his resources so severely. And after tlni"-, on tho d.iv of her First Communion, she decides, it will bo hor hapnv privilege, Cod willing, to hand the gentle pastor another donation of twice the first amount, with which to ha\e the littlo edifice beautified — literally made over 3t must be made as beautiful, this dear little chinch- — within whoso barren walls the light came to her soul sitting m tho darkness — as beautiful as some of those splendid oiatorios .she had soon abroad And, oh, what io.v is hois, to be able to accomplish this ' And has she so soon forgotten to grieve for, hoi- dear dead father? Ah, no, her sorrow is still deep and Keen, but it is no more hopeless and all-per.vading. As

the sun-light gilds the storm clouds, so is the gloom about her loss lightened by faith, hope and holy resignation. She realises now that the way is short and >tho tryst sure whither the path tends — up, always ' up to the heights ' — ' into tlie sunshine.' Judge. Vcrnon was a man of strictest integrity and broad character. He lived faithful to his knowledge of right, and his daughter to whom it is given to receive in its entirety tho divine testament to mankind may well take with it the blessed hope of re-union with her father in the land where parking is no more. A year, later,, and it is the Feast of tho Assumption again. The little black -robed woman is in the first instead of the last pew of the village church this time. Village church ! Can it be possible, that this gem. of beauty both m architecture and ornamentation is tho house of prayer of a handfull of poor mill-hands ? But so it is, for the generous lady of the great house on the lull has worked wonders here and all about her. Everything had revived and developed at her golden touch in a manner truly marvellous. The children chanting tho hymns to-night were well-clad and refined. Their fathers got good wages and can afford to provide properly for thoir little- ones, while the gentle nuns in the new school near by, though they have been but a few months in charge, have made their influence felt, and manifest, too, in the manners of all the young people who come under it. Father Hens ion is so happy that ho is finny convinced—so Mrs. Dunn declares— that ho must havo died and gono to heaven since that e\ening a year ago, when ho bid welcome to the angel unawares— the angel of benefactiion m the guise of the poor cripple lingering at the doorway of his forlorn little tabernacle. As for Mrs Dunn, herself, having adopted Alice from first acquaintance, her feelings of motherly pride in the abundant works of her rich protege are literally unbounded But happier far than any she who blesses— for ' it is more blessed to gi\o than to receive'— is she of the grateful heart and generous hand who is never weary of welldoing Orphaned, and afflicted in body she is in indeed but grief no longer tends upon her misfortunes ; these are veiled from her sight, as it were, by the ministers of consolation, religion, true religion has brought instead With so much to do and plan for tho good of others, she has no time for idle mourning. Her exquisite taste, and skill with the needle keeps her hands ever busy in the adornment of the sanctuary. The choicest laces, the finest and costliest embroidery in its furnishjings are her work— and what happiness, what delight she finds in this employment ! No dainty-finsrered enthusiast over ' fancy work' could ever expeiience the satisfaction in her most elaborate creations that Alice Vernon feels in the work ol her own hands tor tho altar where the divine and human meet— where the Sun of Justice— ever fatithful to His promise, abides to light the way up, up to the glory of the hills, into the realm of eternal sunshine.— ' Rosary Magazine.