The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume 40, Issue 40, 1 October 1903, Page 23

The Storyteller

LOVE THE GIFT The lather stood looking at the boy. Straight as an arrow, his handsome head thrown back, his dark, passionate eyes- flashing ; he said ; ' Of course I can do it , you can do anything if you try and are bound to, can't you, Faddy ? ' And then he was off with the boys. The father ieaned back in his chair to look out of the window at the fellow. 'At last my great desire is granted— and such a son ! What a man he will make with that will, intelligence, and fine physique ! ' He allowed himself to dream dreams— this industrious 1 , quiet, unworldly Steinmetz Kleeber, after the manner of fond fathers. And then in the midst of his dreams there came something most real, insistent — a scream of agony, and then the sound of running feet. The father was down the stairs in a moment— just in time to see his boy brought in from the street, white, unconscious, struck by a rock. • He is dead,' said a voice, and turning Kleeber saw his wife, as white as the boy. And then she was on her knees beside her darling, chafing him, calling to him, until the doctor came. Engel Kleeber was spared to them, but as the years passed the accident was found to have left its cruel, life-long mark as a reminder. His growth was stunted ; his back had an enlargement, never very large, but plainly visible. He was not a cripple or a dwarf, but he was different from his kind ; set apart as a being unlike, because unable to enter into his companions' sport and labors. At first his energy and will overcame much, and then as he grew to manhood his mother's watchful eye detected the vein of bitterness creeping into his voice and manner ; the undercurrent of rebellion ; the silent moods increasing upon him. She redoubled her tdttderness, her care, her love, only to feel that now she was powerless. ' "HRe must fight out his battle alone,' she thought, and suffered as only mothers can. Then came one of those sudden epidemics to the city, and Engel' s mother was one of the victims. It was months after this fresh sorrow that Engel came to his father's study. Steinmetz remembered with a pang that other time so long ago when the boy had entered, so full of life and confidence— the unconscious arrogance of childhood. The son did not waste time on preliminaries. He sat down opposite his father. ' I want to leave college, sir,' he said. ' I want to study finance ; I want to be a business man ; I want to be rich. Money i» power ; I shall fight hard to obtain it. I fear this is a disappointment to you anyhow. Are you willing ? ' Steinmetz pale, thoughtful face turned paler. It was such an unexpected thing to him. But he was as direct as Engel. 'Itis a great surprise, my boy.' he replied. ' I never thought of you as anything but a literary man, or possibly a musician. We Kleebers never have made money, or cared for it much. But you take your mother's little fortune ; take your own way. lEach man must follow his bent ;he must live his own life. But, Engel, don't say that you've been a disappointment. I'm proud of you ; what indeed would life be to me now if you were gone ? ' a And so Engel Kleeber put all the energy and will of which he was capable into this scheme of making money. He went into the world of men ;he gave no sign of any possible shrinking he felt ; and tried to learn his new lessons. Then he entered a bank, and with his money became a shareholder. He gradually won a reputation for shrewdness and brains. 1 The family life, the world of fair women, I cannot enter. Very well : I can do without either. But I shall make men respect and fear me,' Engel declared. He surrounded his father with comforts and luxuries Steinmetz had sighed for in the shape of books and pictures. He grew rich— not suddenly or fast— but surely It became more and more fascinating, this pursuit of wealth, this study of investments, this lottery of fortune. Social attention, invitations, came to him, but he declined them all. A cold wintry day he came into Ihe warm, cheerful dining-room, dressed scrupulously as usual, for dinner. He noticed that his father looked unusually moved. 1 I've had a letter,' the latter began, over the soup ' I confess that it has rather upset me, Engel. Years ago I had a dear friend and there was a misunderstanding. I found out only a year ago that I greatly misjudged him. This letter is from him. He is in great

Pft&teM ' ~ ~ — — trouble. It seems that he has married a" second time, and the new wife and his only daughter by his first wife do not get on together. He writes to ask if the young girl can come to me and make her home here for, a year and go on with her music under Auerbach. He insists on a strictly business arrangement as to boartd, etc. He seems to think that my sister is keeping house for us.' Steinmetz paused, looking intently at his son. Of course it is out of the question for her to come here,' said Engel decisively. ' Yes,' assented his father, ' but we might ask cousin Lucy here— l ye— I-ahem ; really, Engel, I have thought for some time that we were getting into ruts that weren t good for us. Perhaps for a few months it would be well to have women in this dull, quiet place.' Again there was a pause. Then JEngel spoke with evident effort. v ' L do ?'l want t0 a dog in the manger, father ' he said. You lead a lonelier life than I. This is your house ; your friend. Do as you please. It won't be for long. This young school girl needn't interfere with me. I need scarcely meet her except at meals.' And the result was that weeks later when Cousin Lucy was installed as housekeeper to her great delight, when Jsngel came' home he stumbled upon a young woman in the hall. A tall, beautiful woman, she was, in her dining gown of pale blue silk and dainty lace ; her hair high on her fine head ; - her eyes clear and straightforward. Engel stood there in his great coat, too amazed for a moment to recover himself. ' I am Felicia Oliver,' said the newcomer, easily, ' and I think that you must be the Engel Kleeber that Mr. Steinmetz Kleeber and Miss Molntosh have told me about.' She held out her hand frankly. Engel could not remember what he replied. His head was full of a new business deal ; he had never dreamed of the girl who was, as he thought, so unceremoniously thrust upon them, and a real bugbear, who must be endured as a creature like this. He hurried to his room and made his< toilet for the first time in his life with his thoughts dwelling upon a woman. Felicia Oliver was certainly unlike all his preconceived ideas of the women of his set. She had evidently been her father's companio-n, and seemed to know and like men. She had that open, frank manner which is, to say the least, disarming. She had no coquetries. She talked naturally, sensibly, and to the point. Engel found himself lingering down stairs after dinner to talk to her. Then his father asked her to try their new piano. Again, Engel who was himself no mean musician, was surprised and pleased at her firm touch, her exquisite expression, and execution. She asked him about Auerbach. ' I've not had many advantages since I left school,' she said, ' and father - was determined that I should take lessons of him. It was so kind of your father to let me come. My father has his own ideas about girls and— and— everything. He seemed to think that if I came to this great city and boarded in a strange house, that I was lost.' She laughed merrily. ' He never will see that I'm grown up and no longer a girl. Oh, Mr. Kleeber do you care for Chopin, or Liszt? I am fond of both ; listen to tiiis rhadsodie.' And so the time passed ; not only that evening, but many more. Engel found that when Miss Oliver had engagements—and they became more and more frequent— were seasons of keen disappoinment and restless discontent, which were so new to him that he explained it to himself with careful analysis. ' It is the novelty after so many years of being with men only,' he said. ' And then Miss Oliver is so absolutely sincere and unaffected. I feel so at home with her ' And besides this was the feeling that never by word or look had this beautiful, charming girl showed that she ever thought of his misfortune. She seemed to enjoy his wide-awake, well-informed mind. And Engel forgot his bitterness when with her. This, to him, was the most marvellous fact of all. He knew himself so little that he felt only wonder— knowledge had not come to him. And so the months went by, and Engel thought less of business out of 'hours than he would have believed possible. Life took on for him a new and pleasurable excitement. And still he was so strangely ignorant, so heedlessly content— until that memorable night when he came home late He heard voices in the drawing room and went in. The two at the piano did not hear him. Engel' s friend, Tegner, was leaning over the piano talking to Felicia. But the light of his face, his complete absorption, gave Engel a start. He was oft guard, and even to Engel the fact was apparent that he loved this woman. Felicia's face was turned away, but Engel could imagine it a counterpart of Tegner's. He stole softly out and up to his room. Only when the door was shut did he trust himself to face the overwhelming fact that he too loved Felicia Oliver. But to him this meant despair and shame, not exaltation. ' How could I be so weak, so ridiculous, as not to keep myself well in hand ? ' he asked himself. ♦ Have I

resisted other temptations, fought other battles, only to fall a victim to this passion forbidden me ? I must, I shall conquer it. I am strong and determined.' And so the hours went on, and the battle raged fiercely. 'Felicia means happiness ; she is born for that. And Tegner is upright, and physically her equal— l wish he were less selfish— but the lore of such a woman must redeem him from his weaknesses.' lEngel thought. With the morning came an outward calm. Engel met Felicia at the breakfast table as usual. He found that he must meet her often. He could not avoid her without her suspecting his unhappiness. One night when they had been discussing a book, she turned to him suddenly : ' Something troubles you ; are we not near enough friends to tell me ? My father confided in me ; I Hike people to be happy. Would the telling lighten your care ? ' A wistful look came into her dark eyes. Engel could hardly bear it, but his mouth hardened insensibly. 1 I am afraid you are imaginative, Miss Oliver,' he said. ' I am matter-of-fact, used to settling my business worries in short order. 1 ' Did you never tell your mother any of your troubles ?— of course, I don't mean for a moment that I could; 'be like her— but your father has told me of her, and I have seen her picture. I cannot imagine you uninfluenced by her ; her face is lovely, with a certain strength and sweetness.' ' She was a rare creature— l didn't half appreciate her. Do men ever do that to their mothers until too late? ' ' Do you mind talking of her ? ' Felicia asked softly. Engel' s mental attitude changed before that earnest face and voice. It seemed to him that his mother stood beside him. Her "presence thrilled him. Never before had he experienced such a sensation. He spoke almost without volition. ' She loved me more than anyone, even my father,' he said. ' I thought for a while it was mere pity, but I know that it was love— mothers are capable of that.' 1 And why shouldn't she ? ' asked Felicia. ' Can you ask ? ' cried the other. ' Who could love such a semblance ofia man as I ? Think of the shock to her pride, her ambition, when in a moment her strong, handsome boy became— what you see. She suffered (with and for me ; but even her love could not change fate for me. I must conquer that myself. And I did— or, at least, I flattered myself that I did. I had temptations that a woman could never comprehend ; I had moments of rebellion amounting to madness for the hour ; oh, why do I tell you this ? Of what interest can it be to you to know my wounds ? I can overcome ; I can live my life. I must, I must.' Felicia's eyes burned into his. ' I know, I have wondered at your strength, your determination. But oh, you exaggerate your — your misfortune, believe me. I would not tell you anything false— l could not — hut why do you persist in denying yourself society ; you who are fitted to shine in it, by your mind, your many qualities, your music— oh, do understand me ; I want you to look at yourself without your morbid, false vision,' she said. The note of sincerity rang so true to Engel's acute sense that he looked her squarely in the face, too deeply in earnest to think of embarrassment. ' Tell me, Miss Oliver, on your honor, do you think that a woman of refinement, such a woman as I would choose, could ever look at me without repulsion, or with any attachment whatever ? ' His eyes held hers, but she did not falter. ' I know they could,' she said. And then the color surged into her face. And Engel read there something so unexpected, so bewildering, that it seemed as if his brain was turning. 1 Oh, Felicia,' he cried, ' don't look like that unless you care for me— l could not bear it, for you know that I love you.' His voice held that note of acute suffering which men rarely feel twice in their lives— at least, men like Engel Kleeber. '*! could not feel pity for you, Engel ; I have always admired you ; why should I not ? But lately I have learned to love you.' But still Engel dared not believe. ' And Tegner ? Oh, Felicia, you must care for Tegner,' he cried. 4 You unbelieving Thomas ; why should I care for Tegner, who loves himself best of all in the world ? ' cried Felicia, half indignant, wholly adorable. Felicia's head was on his shoulder ; ho felt the quick beating of her heart ; her lovely face was close to his ; her eyes, which could not lie, told him her incredible secret— was not such happiness as this full recompense for all his struggles, his agonised suffering ? What, indeed, was the power of wealth, the deference of men, success, to this strange marvellous gift of love ? ' You told me the other day, Felicia, that you wondered why" I could not believe in God,' Engel said in a new voice which Felicia hardly recognised. 'It is not logic, dear, but if He gives such happiness as this, I

must helieve. Only God could give such love as yours to an undeserving, faulty man like me.'-' Rosary Maga-