THE STRONG SOUL

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 51, 19 December 1907, Page 3

THE STRONG SOUL

The little kettle sputtered on The store," bttWhlinc — and hissing with all its cheerful might. On the worn •ru- in front, of tfoe lire stretched a greatt gray cat .The table in the centre of the room was spotlessly neat. Two places were set, and every little while the ?nri UP fi^P^L the «, lifted her head eagerly and listened. She had been listening- so the better ' part ot an hour, and a worried expression had" come, between her eyes. More than once she made a moveKinatfon^ her sewing ' But she restrained the em/wS^L 15 ! 1^ fron , t door and shuffling feet could be heard in iho hHn . >hn (hd not r<aise 5 her init^" - alt + ho V g ' h I he hand holding, the needle paused 'J^pff Sy / aSIC i , The cat S ot U P lazily . stretched ..itself -yawned, and then coming, over, sat ' ipoiT the edge PVT,S e o^°' ma^ S dd J r6SS ' tookdnß toward the hall as if expectant, iho door was flung open, and a man en-

He did not speak, no word of greeting passed his lips.- He went to the sink in the corner beside the stave, and proceeded to wash his face and hands noisily. 'Ihe woman rose, laid, her sewing on the cushion of the rocker, opened the oven, and took from it tne supper she had been keeping hot. bhe poured out the tea. Everything was in readiness when the man s scunt ablutions were finished. He attached his food almost viciously: She made the sign of the cross, and bowed her head. Yet neither spoke. ~ - It was- a straoige scene, this evening meal in this humble home. The room was cozy and cheerful, despite the very apparent lack of luxury. All around on the walls were pictures treating of sacred subjects :< The Holy Family, the Sacred Heart, the Crucifixion, the Mother of "Sorrows, SI. Joseph. ■ She liked to have her Friends near her, she said, with simple faith, and she tried to keep the surroundings irreproachable 'because of those dear Friends of hers who bore her company. , , They were very different in appearance, this man and ■ woman. Both were past the prime- of life, both were growing old. But oh, how gloriously- age sat upon the one ; how pitiably upon the other ! The woman was of medium height, slightly bent in the shoulders, her sweet face lined by marks that were not all due to increase of years. Her eyes were blue— faded now, of course— but there was something of heaven in the peace -that shone from them ; they had, in their directness, the simplicity and guilelessness that one sees in the eyes of children. She hadTaeen a lovely girl, a beautiful woman. Beauty was gone now, but the soul that had made her charming still glowed in her gentle face. Looking at the man, people were forced to ask what these two had in common. Once powerful of frame, he was drawn together, shrivelled up ; his features were coarse ; his hands trembled as if -with the ague. Whatever pretensions he might have had to the grace of manhood he had lost as he grew older. Vice, stamping its impress . on his countenance, had robfced him of all that' makes old ape prepossessing. To see him seated there, who would or could imagine that he had been among the brightest men of his day; that his handsome face and courtly manner and decency of Jite had won tne charming daughter of a colleague as clever as himself ? Whatever talents he had possessed the evil years had eaten. He was surly save when in his cups, and then prone to quarrel. Often he drank himself into mad lits, when all but his patient wife shrank from him. Occasionally, if he met any one clever cnougjh to talk to him, he responded with a flash of his old-time sharpness of" intellect, but his wife, in reality has guardian angel, never saw this side of him. He treated her coldly, contributed - little to her support, and when in his senses never onen-d his lins to her. He was sober now, hence his silence. Thus he spent his days, and the faithful woman, with me constancy of her sex, showed a brave front to the world. Once her husband turned on her. ' Why don't you clear off, and leave me to myself?' he growled. 'Go -where I shall not have to see your face, or be bothered- with you.' ' No,' she made answer solemnly ; ' I ennnot prevent .you from abusing your body, but your soul is in my keeping, and I shall be true to my trust.' Through the mists clouding his .brain he understoodthe words. He never forgot them. They formed another grievance. He would bring them up and mock at her, and defy her to^'save his soul. People nitied her, and blamed her— what was pity to her or blarre? The parish priest of St. Mark's knew her story— none other. Some guessed at it. The heedless stood aloof, as she compelled them to do, and said she deserved her fate for living with such a man. Those whom life had taught wondered at the patience the dogiged perseverance of this one woman's efforts to save a man s soul. T ' I J .? a re hear(l - P att of her story,' said gentle Mrs. Leggatt to Father Robinson, ' and I can surmise the rest. Every time I look' at her I feel like asking her to -put her hand on my head and bless me.' Father Robinson smiled. He liked Mrs. Leg,gatt, and he knew that she spoke now from the bottom of her heart. ■ • 'Mo blessing would be sooner heard by God,' he said ; ' a weak woman— with the soul of a knigiht, or ai martyr.' . 'Her husband has been long— ill ?' she asked, with an inflection on the last wor-d that told f volumes. Even in "their conversation with one another those who knew the woman resnected her wish regarding her husband's pitiable affliction. , ,

'.A long, long time,' said the priest. Mrs. Leggatt shuddered. . ' A long, long time ! ' she said. « Oh, how thanfoful we should be for Our Saviour's graces and blessings { ' And then, as if by afterthought : < How lucky there are no children ! ' - The priest did not answer. - » Two young men stood looking- at the picture. It was that of an elderly woman seated upon her owii doorstep, engrossed in her humble task. '-A type ! ' said the taller one." < Who is she ? ' 'I do not know. When I went to Aunt Kate's this summer I cycled out into the country with my camera. Coming back I caught her, unknown to her^ self and by the merest accident. I did not mention the fact, as I was a bit of a novice and afraid they'd laugh at me if it failed to turn out. So tnat's how I got it— and the fellow who developed- it has just sent on this print. It was the only good one out of two dozen,' he added ruefully. - Mark Paget too-k v up, a strange expression on his face. ' I seem to know her,' he said. rr 1 , Wel T,' , you ma y at that - Whe n we get to Aunt Kate's I'll ask about her.' 'What a good face it is ! ' said" his -friend. 'Give it to me, will you, Jack ? I'd like to keep it.' . ' That's a cftieer request from you. Of course you = can have it. I thinto something is waking you up, old man.' K1 ' Why ? Because I aslred for this picture ? The face appeals to me. It is homelike.' ' Home ? ' echoed -Kemp, with some, curiosity. ' Not Mr. Masterson 1 s. I have never called the residence of my foster-father home ' ; his lip curled. Mrs. Masterson saw to that, Jack. ' Yes,' said John Kemp, with some regret in his voice ; there's a good deal of honest afiection gone io waste in you, Mark.' 'It's been dried up,' said Mark, absently; 'that's a positive fact. I have no feeling— l am indifferent to all that attracts other men.' 1 Yes,' agreed John. He knew Mark Paget well, and there was honest sympathy in his frank countenance, as he leaned his elbow on the mantel and looked at his friend, who was staring straight before him., frowning. v 'I wish I had never known them,' Mark continued. I strive with all my might and main to be grateful. I strive to awalcen in my— l don't like to say heart, for I don't believe I have any— in my breast, sentiments appropriate to the benefits conferred upon me. But it's no use.' He pushed his hair "hack/ 'It's no use, Jack.' Ancrjohn Kemp, knowing how true his words were, had no rejoinder ready. The room in which they stood was typical of the bachelor who owned 'it. It boasted of "many pipes and much confusion ; of books and magazines in chaotic mles ; of really valuable bits of bric-a-brac,' and really handsome ornaments, all wofully neglected. Every once in a while John Kemp, with Mark's assistance, made attempts to restore order, succeeding very well. Then for a week, or even for ten days— it had been known to last ten days— order and carefulness were strictly observed. At the end of that period they became com--ortably untidy once more. Both were practising - barristers, and firm friends'. They had offices in the sarre building, and only the opposition of Basil Mastersdn kept them from'ioining. forces. Kemp hiad urged his friend to disregard his foster-father's wishes (which proceeded solely from . a whim), but this Paget would not" do, having a gre^t sonse of the deference due to the man who had (Wrought •him into his home, giyen him an education, an>d rlaced hiro -in a position to make his way in the world. Yet from Ihe very first. Masterson had frowned 4 -upon 1 this friendship with Kemp, trying often to bireak if off. He did not- succeed, for Pae;et was dogged and obstinate. If grateful to his benefactor, he exercised 1 the right of choosing his' own friends. Mark Paget had a strange life history. Mr. and Mrs. Masterson, married seven years, had" given up all ' hoipe of offspring, and were travelling about when they chanced to meet Mark Paget's mother. The boy was sirac.ularlv attractive, and young Mrs. Masterson became hysterically rapturous over his' beauty and manliness. They made the mother an offer to ta/ke him, bringi ' him up as their own, and provide for him in every way. For awhile she hesitated, nor did they < fcnow, ever, of the circumstances which compelled her to s consider that ofier. At last she told them she would accept no. rroney for her boy— what money could compensate for his loss?— bait if they could satisfy her

that they were Catholics in good standing and tha,t the boy would be brought up, in the (Jatholic faith, she would consent-i This was soon done, and she gave her child to them, disappearing* completely from the- Masterson horizon. . They had never 'bothered with her after that— never found it necessa_ry to bother with her. Fox five years— until he was ten years old— the boy enjoyed all the comforts, and endured all the disconir forts of .being an indulged and only child. At the expiration of that period a son was born to Mrs. Master son. The change his coming made' in Mark's life was soon apparent. He had always been strange, never responsive, undemonstrative, "replying little to his foster-mother's lavish endearments. He had 'more in common with his stern, adopted father than with the soirewhat flighty, woman who was his- wife. Her own child came to supply the craving that another's never* could — but to lead how pitiful an existence ! Crippled iroin birth, sickly and uelicate ! Mrs. Masterson grew to hate the silent stranger with^the sombre dark eyes, who, after all, was nothing to her, and could be nothing to her now. She airly worshipped .her own child, and, in spite of his frailness, he managed, with her care, to live on, holding greedily to life— as all of us who are born into this world do. Always of a passionate and somewhat erratic temperament, she looked upon Marte's health and strength as insults, standing' between the two lads jealously. Yet in spite of this antagonism- the frail bo^ loved that foster-brother, who was always kind and gentle toward him. " They might have iraxie each other very happy had there been" no restraints imposed upon them. As it was, only the father's stern sense of justice held the balance"at all even, anid more than once Mark felt that he looked at - his own delicate boy, and then turned his glance on- . viously on the boy who w : as not his own. ' It is the tie of blood,' be said to his only friend. - 'It does seem hard' lines, sometimes — but they've brought me up with the shadow on me, and I'm afraid I'll never emerge from it. I wonder what sort of creatures women are. . How weak Mrs. Masterson is, and yet how strong in her love for her son ! ' ' Some day you'll know what strong affection is, 1 '• said John. ' A wife's 7 ' asked Mark. ' Perhaps. A wife can love her husbjand — but a man misses more than words can tell when he has had no mother-love. I don't, know my mother's reasons for giving me up— poverty, I suppose. But I could have stood that poverty better than poverty of soul.' Which sent John Ivemp off into a sad enough reverie of his own, fox his mother had died so early in his childhood that he barely - remembered her. ' After all,' continued Mark- ' it ta.kes affection to create it, and unless a man has had' this affection, he seems to lose response to it. I feel all dried upcalloused ' He hesitated. Had Jack been observant then he would have noticed the pause, the change of color. But at that particular moment Jack was not observant. The clock rang the hour. Mark listened. ' Well, I must be going— they do not like to keep'""dinner waiting.' " .?«, ' You'll surely be ready to-morrow afternoon ? ' '."" ' I am ready now, ' smiled Mark, ' save that I must tell them.' ' They may not like you to leave licrne ' for Christrras,' said John. 1 I am not lea\ing home for Christmas,' . said Mark. And then he turned on him stormily. ' 'juicy will bb glad — all of "them — to see me go ! ' The peculiarity of the tone struck John Kemp with unpleasant force. He , did not understand it. ID seemed to him, almost, 'that Mark, the grave and stolid Mark, wa^s Suffering. He sat a long timerondering over the words. * Mrs. Masterson had a guest to dinner— a Miss Van Nostrand. Her name priven was 'Isobel. „ Mark had known she was to be present — stoe visited the Mastersons freo/uently, and her mother w^s Mrs. Masterson's M°nd. She* was a dainty little gill, with "an air of distinction for all her smallness. She -had an abundance of fair hair, soft gray eyes, a rink arrl white complexion. She looked like a pretty doll. What she was— well, that is another matter. " Perhaps the twinkle in her eyes at times could have told yoii. Or the determined flash in them. At any rate, she was charming. Mark Paget bad classified her. . Her beauty did not attract' him, but the unexnectpd. flashes of wit did, and he had, not knowing much of women, reined ntly conreded the fact that she was f»s clever as it is srfe for a woman to be. Mark did not like women who were too clever.

Young Basil sa,t beside Miss - Van Nostrand, ' who seemed doubly charming to-night. The boy was thin almost to emaciation, and, _ because^ of this, appeared even younger than his twenty years. But his face was flushed now and his eyes were bright. Mark thought he had never seen him- looking so well. The ' next moment he was conscious .of annoyance^— he knew ' the reason. Dinner was half through before he • made his announcements - - - 1 I am going up the State to-morrow. l I shall be gone until after" New Year's Day.' Mr. Masterson frowned, Mrs. Masterson lifted her eyebrows languidly. ' Going away ' said Basil. .' Rather sudden, isn't it. Mark ? ' Mark stared at him in some astonishment.- At any other time such a resolution would have evoked a storm frofln> Basil. But now— well, it was the wo-, man's influence again ! 'It isn't sudden,' he said, and his lip curled. ' I have never seen a Christmas in the country; and I felt— l thought—' Miss Van Nostrand raised her, pink-and-white face; - her soft gray eyes. The latter she turned full upon 'him— why should her gaze embarrass him ? ' I thought I should prefer it,' he ended. 1 Mark has queer preferences,' sam ivxrs. Masterson, smiling at her guest. Then Basil changed the subject. It was dismissed, forgotten. Later in the evening the guesfr found, time to*speak to Mark Paget alone. " „" -- ' 1 .Why fare you goifcg away ? ' shie asked.. vThere was a note dangerous' to his peace of" mind in h^r sweet voice. ' Because I am here ? ' ' Yes,' he said, uncompromisingly. ' I thought so. .You are afraid of me.' ' Afraid of you ? Oh, no.' - ' • - She bit at the top of her gauze fan, and be stared down at her. He did not. see the pain in his eyes : he "did not realise what an expression he wore. She did. A little tingle of satisfaction went trough her every nerve. She was a woman. ' There is your brother Basil,' she said. „-' His mother encourages him to .think of me — my mother encourages her. He is -very rich — or will be — and you are very poor.' ' Thank God ! ' said Mark, savagely. ' 'We are poor, too ; my mother has to fipEt hard .to keep up appearances.' She laughed. 'If v you goaway they will marry me to that— 'boy. 1 ' ' Don't talk like that,' said Mark Paget. 'No one can marry you against your will.' Again she looked at him, and her look was strange. ' You love me,' she asserted. 1 Yes,' he -answered, ' I — love you.' 1 You^ are not treating me fairly.' ' Basil loves you,' hoarsely ; ' have I no manhood ? JNo sense of gratitude ? It will kill Basil if you ' She put up her fan and laughed again. 'It will^kill him unless I sacrifice myself on the altar of his money. Why should I not ? I- am only a woman. Only a woman, Mark Paget, but you are running away from me — and' you will, come back again!. I wish you a merry Christmas V" r^ 4i- • ~ ; —She gave him her hand, which lie took, hel'i, . let - -fall. She looked at him. with triumph in her soft eyes, and moved away. He stared after her, puzzled and airnpyffd. She was clever, assertive, masterful. He bad been called all three. - And yet this slip of a -ejirl— she was only that !— had nrob-ed his heart, laid - bare -his thoughts, mocked at ,them — and at him ! Where did "the, woman end and" v the ,n:iast,er-mind begin? He was glad" he was going away. • Who could submit toi such tyranny ! And from a woman ! Affection — a woman must give a Section — it is a man's right to receive it. But control—. He gritted his teeth _, savaprelv — ar.d then fofter thoughts intervened. After all. her worldly mother rniph-t try to compel her to this marriage, and Basils mother ■'vould move heaven and earth-,, were -such a tiling possible, to gratify one sinp-lp. wish of his. He fished. - Pcor Basil ! Mart- was melaincholv when he ioinerl his friend -rext af f e,moor — rnnre melanch^lv than he had been the ni^ht .before. Basil v had let him po ool^lv— Tsobel as coldly. John Kemp koiew that one of Mark's bad hours was upon him, and he dih not intrude upon it. Continued on page otf.