THE STRONG SOUL

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 51, 19 December 1907, Page 38

THE STRONG SOUL

iContinued from page 7. ' They readied lxiuton rather lave, but John's auntwas there to welcome them. ' Marjc warmed at n<.r kindly greeting. She seemou bo gentle and so motherly and yet digniued,- withal. He luiowhe had entered a different atmosphere even before they arii/ed at the roomy country mansion where all the young people loved —and they -were many — as. well as "Her own sons and - daughters, felt thoroughly "at home. There was something here that Manic had always missed — and it was " supj^iied unexpectedly. -rh'e glauness of me morrow was in tihe air he breathed. He had never known what it meant to be glad on Christmas Day— now he realised the gladness that had its source in the feast itself, and rejoiced in-. it. " .-.-■.-- ' vVe have a tree, of course,' said Aunt Kate, in answer to his amused questioning. 'Oh!* So you. , imagine yourself too grown-up for a tree ? My .dear! boy, this is the ~ children s feasi — you must all b« little; children to welcome the, Christ ' " - ' And you mothers ' . 1 Oh, we mothers ! -li-e mothers rejoice with Mary thaff the children who were lost out in. the busy worll have come into their own again ! ' - That Christmas morning— what a morning it was ! The . house was full of mysterious whisperings, of suib- " dued laughter, of irerry voices softened by distance, < of--the pattering of many feet. AH' was excitement within.. Outside, every tree along the way glistened with crystals ; the evergreen bushes peeped irony a heavy mantle of ermine, the frozen lake glittered like a hiuge diamond in the sun ;, the great road that led to tils churcn was one broad" air.d shining expanse, . white with the dazzling whiteness that is • seen only in the country during, the ra-uiant winter days. 'liie sim was almost warm — his light- seemed •' a benedictiooi on a . world made pure because of the Christ ; Child's coming. Mark Paget stood upon the steps, and ~ looked about him, and thought upon heavenly things. It was ' impossibile not .to — it was impossible not to comprehend that this day — this one great, glorious, beautiful tiay, was the day of tlie Saviour's b*uth ! Aunt Kate bade both young men wait for her, and she stuffed their pockets so full of bundles that they bulged out almost to o\erliowing. Her own . cap.a- . cious muff was so crowded that she had barely room for her hands. After Mass they walked with her from, house to house, calling en those "who were her friends, humble or otherwise, to -wish them, personally, a meruy Christmas. One by one the bundles went to ihose for whom they were intended, and the overcoats resumed normal proportions. The more substantial gifts provided from her generous purse had been sent the night before. /' One more visit,' she announced, cheerfully, ' and' then for home, and our own Christmas dinner. How do you like this, Mr. raget ?.' ' Greatly indeed,' he answered ; ' it is a novel experience.' , John Kemp nudged_ his friend. • . - ' •' This is the very house, as I live,' he .said, un-~ • der his breath ; - the lady of the picture, you remember ?', Aloud : ' Are you -stopping here, ■ Aunt ixitty ? ' . ■ " • - ' I am,' she answered in a low tone. They walked behind her, single file,, up the little path. She reached Ihe door of the cottage, and knocked. . After some time the .door was'-_opened, and the lady of the picture stood^upon the threshold. ' Oh, it is Mrs. Leggatt ! ' she exclaimed ; ' a merry Christmas ! I .was looking for you at . first Mass, tout- failed to -get a g-linvpse of you.'* ' I waited until the second for these lazy boys of mine.. • How in the world did you manage to get to five o'clock Mass ?,' . 'Ohj dne can always manage ' ' I've brought you . a book and a p.air of slippers I made myself. I -hope you'll find comfort in both.' ' As 1 surely will,' was the gentle answer. Aunt Kate made no move to introduce her com 1 -, pariions. Now the owner of the cottage lifted her eyes and met Mark Paget's intent glance. She shrank back a little, more into the shadow. After a few courteous words Aunt Kate withdrew, the .young men steuluteti, and the depr closed— it seemed to tthem abruptly. ' What a patient face,' said John Kemp. c Rather, what a strong soul ! Vsaid Mark Paget, somewhat" harshly. ' She has a story ? ' . ' A sad one. - 1 know. it. 1 think lam the only one who does, excepting- Father Robinson.' « What is it ? Tell us,' . ■ .-; ' . 'i '

Mrs. Leggatt looked up in- some astonishment,, but John Kemp put a restraining hand on her arm.. ' That's Mark's way—don't mind it, Aunt K-itty. He is much interested in the woman. He has seen her picture.' ' • _ . 'Oh ! ' said Mrs. Leggatt. She expected' further explanations. .None came. , - ' 'ie'ii the story—-} lease, madam ! ' said Mark. - " She is finely educated. Her husband was a clever. " professional. lie has been ill for thirty years. " "She has .borne all, put up with all — a martyr to the marriage tow.' ' Her children ? ' ' None. She had a son. In the earlier days of the husband's sickness he used to take spells of mad- - Omjss. She was afraid harm would come to the child,, so she gave it away to -some good pec-ple— she ' did , not want it to grow up amid the horror of such surroundings. She does not know where it is — but a mother never forgets. Her husband, Mark Pa get ' She paused, with the sense of having committed'an irretrievable blunder. Mark staled into her slowly- ' paling face. John's had gone" white, too, for he Miewy" , positively, that this coincidence was fraught with mean l ing. '- . - J " . ' Jack ! ' said 1 Mark, "' it is true. I told 1 you that I knew the picture.' ' ;'""'" 1 What is it ? ' asked Aunt 'Kale. '-Tell her,' said Marl;. He turned on his' heel, and wcrit back toward the cottage they had just' left. ' Where are you gcing ? ' ■ " - ■ 'IGofing?' His -v,oice, had air exultant tjhrallo' He looked oi\er his shoulder at her. 'GoAr*s? To help • one mother rejoice with Mary that the child who was lost out in the biusy world/lias come into it's own again.' " " The words rang out as if inspired 1 . 1 What is it ? ' asked Aunt Kate again ; ' tell me, John.' * - , ' I'll tell you,' he said ; "pray G-'od it may be - true !i Dear old Mark, if it is only true ! ' ' With imperative demand in his I nock, Mark Paget stood upon the threshold of the cottage which he felt held his mother. This time no soft step came across the hall — a heavy, shuffling one, rather. A hand fumbled at the knob. Haggard eyes, set m a red countenance, looked __ out' at him. 1 What do you want ? ' demanded .a husky voice. ' Mark needed no words to tell him the story. The man's misery was written on his browv and in his bloodshot eyes. • ' . 'I want to see your" wife,' he "said, and pushed past him with the insolence of youth. '1 here was no . sign of any one in the room nearest the door. He'went back, without Hesitation, into the kitchen. "Here ia " woman, jLieindhug dyer itjhe stove, straightened arid • .ooked up at his tall figure, which filled the doorway. ' Who are you ? ' she asked in alarm. 'You need to put that question on Christmas'' Day ?' he queried. ' Come and lcok at- me, and tell me what you see in my face.' . . " ': She shrank, quivering, grasping at the table near her for support. • ''--':.• 'Don't do it,' she saicl ; ' don't.'-" do it, boy-.- Wlio' may you be ? ' 'My name,' he said, 'is Mark Paget. lam the adopted son of Basil Masterson.' She tottered now. 'Her face, was ghastly. •Marl: Paget! That is— my— husband's .name! But —you I ' . ■- • « He stared at' her. 'There is a mistake,' she went on,' half soblbingly; 'my -lvusbamd has no ' [ All the pent-up passion of his nature sprang forth. •He advanced into the room, to the table— stood'above her, towering over her, looking into her eyes. . ' ' Mother !' he said. No words carl describe "the - eloquence of that one word— no pitiful -evasion could withstand it. Nothing human, could bearup against it. She could not, for all her strength. - She swayed, and would have fallen, but that- he clasped her in his arms, where she lay. - - - - - ' Now God be praised ■!' was all her' white- lips whispered ; ' this Christmas day may God te praised !' Her arms were around him— poor arms that had teen" empty so long ! Her tears were falling on his breast; - her lips were clinging to^his cheek. Something new and living awoke in Mark Paget's heart. 'Oh, mother; oh, my mother !' were all the words • he found ;" ' my "mother, mother, mother V Truly it was Mary's feast, as weir 'as d:«r 'Messed Lord's!- For a long-time they stood'. so, '.questioning nothing,- saying nothing, but the, ' words, " my \ mother ' and 'my son,' over, and over arid- over" again." "After a

while she touched his cheek longingly, his forehead, his eyes, his lips, with her old and worn fingers. «Oh it was for your sake,' she whispered, 'it was only ' for your sake, my son.' • And I have come into my own' again,' he said • for this is Christmas day, and I am home ' t 'My son,' she whispered, the .words hurting her, •ll y SOU I - No one came to interrupt their joy. The moments passed. And then she said :• 'I want you to understand what I suffered when I gave you up. I <tfd not mean to give you up ■ but' the iou aie a Catholic, lad ?' ' With the Lord's help^ mother.' ' . 'Thanks be to Him ! My toy, I could not do' you justice. Your father's illness '-- y ' \ JJ°S cr ' \ haVe seeri him> I ] y iow his illness.'' -' \ 'Come,' he whispered, eoflly, 'come away i»itli' me-come to the city and let me make a, home for Z??\A ,P, P - rett 7 h 2 me « cheerfu l and comfortalla, where we will live together in peace and happiness. Mother, I ye, -been starving for you— starving all my life for your dear love. Come away with me' He never forgot the loot that flashed across her patient face-just an instant, to be immediately blotted out by one of resignation. - 'Your father could not live in the city I vo 'M not dare to go,' she said, gently. 'He is ill-a brokenman, and it would kill him.'" -~- 'Why not -confide in me?' he said. « Se^s mother— Wh, n V ab7> T y° Ur 14 -^ a. man-let him shoulder C%^ en^en^!Sd O Vi\ a -^' mPtatiOll te - J h^ ! "xr nd y ? u ?> lhe came half-fearf :lly. Never,' with a shudder of aversion 'peve^- ' ' ff n +w h i a !f px&^J°\ that-oh, thank God for if! Your father, lad, was the lover of my youth. His soul is in my hands. I will not desert him—' n ' And, mother, what of me ?' aml'S ?h n> ni - 7 T!> HoW lhc words comforted her, and yet the pain they gave t ' You will po as you have come asking no questions, asHng nothing-sure as always, of your mother's love and prayers ' ' I can not.' . his salvation-this Ohrdstmas day completes The saSl* fice-I feel it-God will c iv Q it to me now. Sly uttl 0 boy, a merry, merry Christmas — -' V ' Mother, I ' ' Asking no questions, asking noihine, on'y sur^ as H Wa S" ° f i - yy ° Ur mother 's love ai.d nrayeVs ' she i e .'«nt SS inSrfKrf "r V -° nS U - llie stren S th of the nature xnax impelled her to immolation him.' A taerry Christmas ' Ma^ ]{ .' sne S aia, and looked at dy PTuIoTS? bey ° nd endurance he tu ™3 lfis.moo«ri.J L* iS not i a merry Chn^tmPß if h f , said , T . . why do yon mnV P mv 4 ntv hard for mo ?' * Jsote1 ' -I thank The, no W !Oh Cc, ; iJ^T,? mi! ' Ooff .

rißht !lonJ thTi ° Ut £v /V ler . words ' as she had known nght along, the love and longing of his aching heart. The most cherished possession in Mark Pact's oXTaT? eersitfne er sitfn' follo Ti ngChrist - mas ' he * at at hi * of ?n 2m i mother and his wife-is the picture 1 Benzigsr's MagaEine.'