The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXIII, Issue 50, 14 December 1905, Page 23

The Storyteller

THE LITTLE MAIDEN BY THE SEA

' Just one speck upon the ocean and on^wlute speck upon the shore ! ' soliloquised the literary 'man who had come down to Little Morley for his Easter holiday. ' Old Betton was correct in describing this place as " phenomenally quiet." It is grand ! simply grand, having all this stretch of sky and sea and sand all to myself. For the first time in my life I feel that I have left humanity behind, and my soul is alone with its Creator. How happy I ought to be ! How happy, indeed, I am ! And yet, in this vast solitude, one somehow longs more than ever for a kindred soul to share Ihe beauty of it all and sympathise.' He looked again at the two white specks which had at first attracted his attention. The distant sail upon the sea quite failed to interest him, but instinctively he turned his steps towards that other note of white upon the shore. The little wearer of that snowy Tarn o1o 1 Shantcr had some 'days ago awakened his interest and fired his imagination. Ever since the morning of his arrival at Little Morley, when he found her alone— the only living thing upon that long stretch of sand and pebbles by the sea—his thoughts, unbidden, had been weaving fancies iouihl hex. His ignorance as to her name, age, rank, and occupation only added to the enchantment of a lovely face, a girlish figure, a resolute bearing, and her evident love of solitude. As soon as he arrived at what he judged to be a suitable distance, he sat down upon the (stones, leaned his back against a breakwater, and gave his imagination a long rein. Her back turned towards him, she was entirely unconscious of his presence, and 'he was obliged to content himself with a general impression. So be began by studying her outward garb She wore a white woollen Tarn o'Shanter over her short dark curls, a warm black cloak with a fur collar (the early April winds being still occasionally very cold), a blue serge skirt and neat brown shoes and stockings. With an artistic eye he noted how the coloring of her clothes harmonized with her surroundings, and he wondered if she chose them herselt, oi if her mother dressed her. lie found himself wonder me; all sorts of things, but it was her age which puz/led him mo.it of all, and until he could decide whether she were nearer twehe years old or thirty, lie could not place her satisfactorily in his thoughts. Her short hair, her very 'youthful face, and the lightness of her step suggesknl the child ; but there vm 1 - a certain repose of manner and dignity ot carriage which balllcd him The long, free stride, the poise of the head, the resolution — almost, he fancied, the courage of her bearing, bespoke the woman who had iaccd difficulties and troubles, and had faced them nobly. .She might bo thirty with a past , or she might be thirteen with a future "^ et it was unnatural for a child — and he inclined to the supposition that she could be little more than a child — to come down alone to the sea clay after day, and lie so still for horns watching the waves and sky Morning and evening .she came, as i though she were performing a task, and he read firmness, decision, heroism into her even steps. She always chose the same part of the beach, and settled herself down under shelter of a great black breakwater, crowned with dripping, golden seaweed Three boys were building a sand castle perilously near the m-eoming tide, and he wished that she would essay to do some childish thing that he might assist her. But she never came armed with a bucket or a spade. She carried Iwo books and something glistening — exactly what lie was not able to discern — twisted around the fingers of the other hand ' She ought to ha\e some one to play with, or some one to look after her Wheie is h< r molliei oi hei elder sister 7 ' demanded the liteiaiy man aloud , but the thud and ripple of the wa\es as they broke upon the shore was the only answer he received. 'It is not good for one to be so much alone,' be thought. His own solitary condition w<is due to the fact that the friend who had told him about the place . succumbed to an attack of influenza at the last minute and was unable to accompany him; and ha\mg once arranged his plans it had seemed better to him to get lo the sea alone than not to get theie at all .\!oieo\er, he wanted a little quiet time in winch to woik out a story which for years bad been simmering in his brain ; a simple story, treating of healthy English Catholic life, with a heioine, who amidst, many diflicul-

ties and trials, humbly submitted her way unto the Lord ; accepting the little things of life and living nobly amongst them ; such a heroine as he had never been privileged to meet, though he believed that there must be many such girls trained in our convent schools — Children of Mary— who even in the struggling, go-ahead twentieth century, follow meekly and wisely in the footsteps of Our Lady. % As he was meditating upon the character of his heroine, with his eyes upon the little girl by the sea, a distant clock struck five. She rose, collected her pos-| sessions, and set forth homewards, leaving him lost in admiration ai the beaulitul way she held herself. Me sat on, thinking and wondering, until the yetting sun and the chill evening air practically recalled him to an everyday world. Then he went for an hour's brisk waik along the beach, taking a short cut back across fields yellow and white with new spring blossoms to his dinner of fried ham and eggs at the Red Lion Inn, where he was putting up. ' Are you going to the Good Friday concert on the pier at Longer Morley to-morrow evening ? ' inquired his landlady, who, pitying his loneliness, indulged him with the local news whilst she cleared away his meals. ' They say the singing will be something beautiful. I hope you'll go, sir. It 'will be a nice change for you. 1 His smile was not entirely devoid of sarcasm. After being accustomed to the best of everything in London he fully expected that the music provided by the local talent of Longer Morley would be a change for him ! Yet, all the same, he said that very likely he might go, and delighted the good hostess of 'the Red Lion Inn by purchasing from her an eighteen-penny reserved stall on the spot. His little girl was not upon the beach next day, and he hoped that she was perhaps reserving herself for the evening concert. It would give him great pleasure to recognise her, differently dressed, sitting among the audience lie wanted to picture her under the influence of some other environment. But no ! when he arrived upon the pier, and took an eager survey of the inmates of the concert-room, he saw m an instant that she was not among them. The room, as yet, was but a quarter full. He stood near the door anxiously watching the passers-by until the concert was about to begin ; then, with a sense of extraordinary disappointment, for which he found it unicasonablc to account, he took Ins place m the one row oi red plush seats and devoted his attention to the decoration of the room. The cflect oi color was distinctly pleasirg the cnmson curtain on either side the stage, the many windows disclosing \ iews of the sea, the painting <>f the wood-work in two delicate shades of blue And his seat was comfortable. If the music vas not nioic than ordmaiily commonplace he thought lie might as well lemain for an hour or so. It did not seem probable that there would be any I'aine he knew upon the programme The piano solo ancf the baritone song were not calculated to distract his thoughts fioin the subject, which engrossed them ; but then — No. A, lUiss Rosamond Athelstane, ' Avc Maria,' by .Joseph Lynde, filled him -with totally unexpected joy and su i prise It was impossible not to recognise the slight graceful figure, although she looked considerably taller in her lone; white gown, and although her curls were lost under a large black picture hat, which made an exquisite setting tor the sweet child face below. His little maiden of the sea ' and }et how wonderfully transformed. He had ne\er imagined that she sang. Oh ! how divinely ! with what ease ' the quality of her voice, the repose of manner, the .sympathetic rendering of the song ! Here was the true note of sympathy for which he had so often listened m vain. ' Undoubtedly,' he thought, ' she must be a Catholic ' lie could not otherwise account for her singing with such touching re\ erence His heart went out towards her amidst that uproar ot applause She bowed, returned and bowed again, and finally was peisuaded to rcpc.il her song From tin- magnificently eudeut delight of the old lady sitting next him, the liteiaiy man concluded that she must be bis little maiden's mother. The programme qimered in her slender fingers during the singing, and when the song- was done she tore off her gloves and rings and clapped as he had never guessed an elderly lady was capable of clapping. He contrasted her nervousness and excitement with her daughter's appearance of angelic calm 1 Aliss Athelstane is by a long wqy too self-posses-sed,' remaiked some one behind him, as soon as she had left the platform ; 'no one gets on nowadays who isn't nervous.' 1 (Jood quality, but laiks finish,' said some one else. And the literal y man glaied round angrily at the people who daied to gi\e their unbiassed opinion of her voice.

1 Hush ! Hush ! ' remonstrated he, and the old lady next him smiled gratefully. In the second half of the programme Miss Athelstane was x down to sing again. He longed for her reappearance, that beautiful, calm, oval face, with its" long, dark lashes and the sweet, trustful smile. At length she came ; but although ' The green hill far away ' moved many to tears, a feeling of awe at the recollection ot that scene on Calvary restrained the audience from applause. 4 Sir Edward Douglas tells me that she is the cleverest pupil they ever had at the college,' whispered one who was sitting "ft l thin earshot of the literary man. ' Clever does not seem to me exactly the word to describe her,' leplied some one else. ' I should rather call her exquisitely good. She suggests an atmosphere of exalted purity.' ' And Dan Gilbertson has just oflored her £500 a year to take hell Solly's part in ' The Unthinking Girl.' 4 You don't saj r so. Surely some one will prevent her from doing that.' 4 Her guardian angel, very likely. They are the only people I know of nowadays who can afiord to be unmercenary.' The literary man could bear no more. At the end of the next 'cello solo he got up and left the hall. The walk home by the sea in the starlight brought a certain amount of alleviation to his agonising thoughts ; yet the idea of his little singine; maiden being drawn away and swallowed up in the gulf of rminc opera haunted his sleep, and he dreamed ot Dan Gilbcrtson in the form of a fiery dragon, slain by himself m the guise of St. George, just as the lady of his heait was about to be devoured. Next morning she was sitting again m her usual place upon the shore, and he found it diihcult to persuade himself that this solitary child was identical with the sweet singer of yesterday. He ensconced himself a little nearer than he had ventured hitherto and watched her with a tender wondering pity and anxiety. After -that o\erheard conversation in the concert loom he longed more than ever to know something about her history and her circumstances. Had she no one to shield her from the temptations of the world 7 No one to fight her battles or give her good advice ? He doubled up his arm and felt a well-developed biceps with a smile of satisfaction. If it had only been a matter of personal strength that was lequired nothing would have given him gieater pleasure than to have entered the lists on the spur of the moment as her champion knight ; but as things leally were he failed to see how mere brute force was going to avail his heroine. There was only one other toice of which he had experienced the quality— the four of puiyer 1 Benediction at half-past four,' his landlady had told him. Perhaps Miss Aihelstane would be going too, and he might march some paces in the rear, acting as her invisible escort by the way. lie studied her caiefully to see if she were about to mo\e, but at ten minutes past the hour she still lay motionless, evidently, asleep, and he rose quietly and left her, to plead her cause before the throne of God. The pretty custom of blessed flowers was new to him, and he treasured his tiny bouquet in the hope of being able to find some means of conveying it to her. She was still asleep when he returned to the beach, and the fast approaching waves seemed to have nearly leached her feet. He felt concerned for her bodily safety, and resolved, with the help of a great inclination, that it was his obvious duty to awaken her He laid his offering of the holy flowers at her light hand, seeing the glistening pearls of her losaiy twined lound her fingers. ThciOmce of Our Blessed Lady and the Fioretti of St Francis were beside her. All the secrets of her inner life appeared in that moment to have been revealed He understood now the heavenly quality of her voice and her beautiful repose of manner' they were an answer to hei feivent piaveis, she (nmedov.n to this silent place to commune with bet Cieatoi lie withdrew a little distance, leaving it to hei ane;cl guardian to awaken her. The sea was not sopcnlously near as in his first impulsiveness he had imagined At the sound of the Angclus she rose to her knees, and after making the sign of the Cross the little bouquet caught her eye She raised ii 1o her lips • 'Dear Lady, you have sent me the flowers and a blessing ' How good (iod is ' ' Yes, she was a Catholic, and with the knowledge of it his interest in her increased enormously. At the altar rails on Easter morning he and she knelt side by side. lie, conscious of the close proximity, was offering his Communion for her caith-

ly welfare ; she, unconscious of everything except her union with her Saviour, >was murmuring softly, 4 A hundred thousand welcomes, dearest Lord." When his thanksgiving was finished he noticed that she was kneeling in advance of him, a little to the right, but she had not vet raised her head, and he could not watch her here. There was a lady whom he knew just leaving the church. He"*followed her, entering into conversation, just beyond the porch. They were still talking when his liUle sea-maiden passed by: 4 Rosa, dear!" exclaimed the lady, greeting her with a caress. She knew her intimately. The introduction was soon accomplished. ' You both go the same way,' she added, ' Sir Herbert Donninqton is staying at the Red JLion Inn." So they walked back together. How natural it was ! and yet the* literary man felt as though the most wonderful thing in the world had happened. They spoke of the concert. It was the first time she had sung since a serious illness, she told him. She was so thankful that he thought her voice had sounded well. The air of Little Morley had undoubtedly done her good. 1 I see you sitting by the sea,' he said. 'Do you ?' Her surprise was entirely genuine. 1 I have never seen you !' 1 That was because you never looked my way.' She laughed. ' 1 always look straight oui before me —it is so beautiful, so wonderful.' ' The vaiying clouds in that immense expanse of sky, touching the blue sealine ot the hoiuon ; and then the line of silver white , and then sand, wet sand, diy sand, and sand with sky reflections ; and the countless shades of grey and yellow pebbles on the beach , with, for white, occasionally a seagull or a sail , and for the flaikest note the rich lines of the bieakwaters.' 1 So its artistic loveliness appeals to you '" said he, " I used to wonder what you thought about.' ' Oh, I just feel that, I don't think— at least, I try not to do so, because I promised my doctor that I wouldn't. He told me to sit by the sea and let my mind float out on the ocean of God's love and tiust Ihs providence for the future ' The literary man found her sensitive and charming as she gradually unveiled the subject of her own troubles. During that short walk home h^ discovered all thai he had been so anxious to understand. She was twenty-two years of age, and her mother was sixty. They lived upon a small annuity which would t'.ie with her motnei, and the mother had been given less than a year, at the most, to live This was a secret which the family doctor had confided to Rosa just before she came avvav, saying it would be wiser for the old lady to lemam unaware of her own critical condition Rosa's health had tempoiaiily bioken "down under the combined strain" of study at the Royal College of Music and sick-nui sing at home, and it was on her account that they came to Little Morley tor lest and change of air. It was now definitely decided that she could not affoid to study any more, and she feared it would be almost impossible to obtain a sufficient number of luciative engagements to sing at concerts at 'at homes ' The only good offer that had been made to her came from a quaiter which— she hesitated. ' I know,' replied the literaiy man. He called upon her mother after this, discovering her to be the widow of his first editor, and the recollection of a boyish gratitude easily expanded into a debt which he felt it wodld be an honor now to be allowed to pay. Mrs. Athelstanc found him a distinguished, sympathetic companion, with many' mutual I friends, amongst whom was the veiy ' old Bet ton,' who had recommended him to the place. In the course of a day or two when Mr. Betton aimed the quartet was complete. ' Headaches, v\ eiK pulses, low tempera! ure, and want of sleep ' had been— hei niolhei told the literaiy man — wh.it ailed her child, but now that Rose was so very much better their doctor wiote advising her to take long, iambics in the couiitiy. ' Perhaps you will allow me to accompany her,' suggested Sir Herbert, endeavoring not to express by the eagerness of his manner how veiy much pleasure those country walks would give to him. Mrs. Athelstanc seized upon his offer. There are so many cows about and one never knows when they will tuin out to he be bulls and'toss you. 1 Her vagueness raised his smile, but the supposition was such a distinct advancing of his cause that he let it pass.

The little sea-maiden and he got to know each other considerably better after this, and during their search for wild anemones in a neighboring wood she told him some of the secrets of her heart. ' Such beautiful things happen sometimes,' she said in her confiding childlike way, telling him the story of the blessed flowers on Holy Saturday. ' There were narcissus, white stock, forget-me-nots, scented geranium leaf, and our Lady's laces.' He had not observed of what the little bouquet was composed, but he thought that her voice suggested the fragrance of flowers as she named them. 1 was sorry to have fallen asleep and missed Benediction,' she continued, ' and I took the flowers as a sign that I was being watched over and cared for.' ' Undoubtedly,' he replied heartily, but he did not add, ' by me.' ' I have pressed those holy blossoms in my " Garden of the Soul," and my confidence increases when I look at them, they seem to say, " God loves you, and you need not trouble about the future." ' ' The future ' soon formed the habitual topic of their conversation. Rosa experienced great relief in pouring out her fears and doubts and difficulties to his sympathetic ear. About Dan Gilbertson's offer they were at one. The literary man felt as convinced that she must not accept it ' as though £500 a year were growing on every blackberry bush,' as old Betton laughingly remarked. ' Yours is one of those sad cases, dear child,' said Sir Herbert gravely, 'in which one has no light but that which comes from prayer.' Thus emboldened, she proffered a request which had been hovering on her lips ever since the morning of their introduction. Would he join her in a novena to Our Lady, Star of the Sea, in the fisherman's chapel at Norton Harbor ? Did he know the story of the picture ? How it was painted by a lay Brother who had been a sailor, and who always believed that he saw the Blessed Virgin beckoning him from the evening star. ' Serve me,' he thought he heard her calling to him, And when at length he followed his vocation, he was allowed to paint the vision of his stormy days for the fisherman's chapel, where the boatmen come to makp their novenas for a safe voyage before putting out to sea. The literary man followed her train of thought. ' And you would make your novena there before putting out upon life's ocean for your unknown voyage ? " ' You and I and mother and Mr. Betton,' she answered shyly. So it was arranged for nine mornings to hear Masr, at Norton for this particular intention ; Rosa and Sir Herbert walking by the field way, whilst their elders hired a carriage and drove round by the road. On the ninth morning she knelt longer than usual before the star-picture after Mass was over, and the beautiful calm of her expression, and the intense confidence, with which she 'offered up her Memorare struck her companion as being something nearer to the angels than he had ever hoped to come on this side of the grave. Here was a gentle, naturally retiring child, who had been tenderly brought up, about to lose her remaining parent, and to be left alone and penniless in a world ol which she dimly realised the temptations and dangers ; and yet what countenance had he ever beheld so absolutely serene and trustlul ? Was not this the conclusion of his life-time's search — had he not found at last his ideal woman— the kindred soul with whom alone he knew that he could better serve his Creator ? When she rose from her knees her eyes -met his — and they both knew that the answer to their novena was that he should be her pilot.—' The English Messenger.'