Tlje Storyteller IN MISS FELICIA'S GARDEN

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXVI, Issue 9, 5 March 1908, Page 3

Tlje Storyteller IN MISS FELICIA'S GARDEN

It was a charming place, this old garden of M»a Felicia Ravemel, with its hedges of, box, »* s «J U {" flowerbeds, its wealth of roses and flowering shrubs, lib gr.en stretches of turf, its old sun-di a l with *^c Latin Lotto, and its quaint cedar summer-house, as caicfuliy clipped and trimmed as when first constructed in the early years of the nineteenth century. There had been t.eiiods during its long existence when the garden hart i een very much out of fashion, and therefore very disapprovingly regarded by the large class to whom whatever is unfas-hioWaible ds anathema, periods when Miss Fe icia had been earnestly advised to- uproot . the greatbox hedges and replace them wth borders of Haunting new rlants. But Miss Felicia was haPPily a born conservative, and she held fast to every shrub of the old garden where she had grown up, a nd -where tfce romance oi her Lfe had been played. It had been rather a sail jomance, but nevertheless, but perhaps the more, miss Felicia clung to 'its memory. " " " l> . -' •\. c he was a beautiful woman still, for all her liit.y years, with her graceful ligure, her clear-cut features, her lustrous dark eyes, and the aristocratic air of Jier whole personality. And her beauty being' thus, .like Olivia's, 'i ' the grain.' and warranted to bear V'ind and weather, she had the look of a grand duchess, §yen if she was wearing a cotton frock and gardening gloves. Attired in this manner, she was clipping away at'- a rose busb with a large pair of shears one morning-.;- in May, when a girl, v~!th a striking likeness to herself, entered the garden, and rushing up .to her eagerly . embraced her. . , -r x ' Fay,' she exclaimed, as in her surprise she dropped- - the shears, l where did you come from ?'- - 'From home, Aunt Felicia,' the girl replied, as -site 1 issed her. ' I have run away.' ' You have— ?' Miss Felicia gasped. 'Run away,' the newcomer repeated distinctly. -'-.Of couisc you are shocked, b,ut equally of course you know why I have done it.' ' Yes, I suppose I )now,' Missi Felicia, answered. She looked at the girl and shook her head, half-sadly, kulf^ severely. ' You are a bad child 1 , Fay !' -"'^ ' You don't think that, Aunt Felicia— l'm sure you c'on't !' Fay pleaded. Then she threw her arms again— round ihe other. ' Sit down and let us talk about it,' she cried. ' I've come to you for sympathy and help.* ' Sympathy in abundance you shall have,' Miss Felicia said, as they walked over to a garden seat under a climbing rose and sat down, ' but the only help I can offer you is the help to do what is right.' >' And that is—?' ' To go bade home quietly, like a good daughter.' ' You know what that means,' Fay said, fixing* her with bright eyes. 'It means submitting -to my father's arbitrary command/ and giving up Geoffrey Brett..' If Miss Felicia shrank a little at the sound p^that name, there was no outward sign of it. „S«he simply said : ' Your father has a right to .your „- obedience, Fay.' " ' - ■ , ' The ri'glit to my otiyedience within reasonaibte bounds, yes,' the girl returned, ' but not when he" asks what is unreasonable and tyrannical.' ' ' :?' 'Fay.' - . -;,v ' Oh, let us speak plainly, Aunt Felicia ! Do you th"nk I don't know the old sjfcory of how you ,-gave "P the o+her Geoffrey Brett— my '"father 1 — because your family refused to allow you to marry him, on account of a century-old feud ? I have- burned.. with sympathy and indignation for you. a s lone? as I can remember, and I always said to' myself that I would never b? coerced "in such a manner. So wnen'l met Geoffrey Brett I regarded him with more- interest, than I ,mia:fct otherwise ' have done, because of your romance .with his father, and I soon f oiund'. "'there ha.d"been" very trood reason for that romance. If Geoßrev ,]?fejbt, the elder, "was half as charming as Geoffrey Brett,', the younger, Aunt Felicia, I don't— l really don't- see how you ever cave him up !' ' ' cTf Geoffrey Brett, the • younger, .is - half .what his father was,' Miss Felicia said, -as she glanced-, around the pardon where a gallant young figure had once walked with -her amid the roses^of a- long vanished May, .« I do not worider that you tlAnk so, Fay. 7 . - . . 1 And, therefore, I am cfluite fleter mined,' the ' p-irl went on,, • that I'll be 'wiser than- .von were, tha^.l will assort my rienht to my own individuality, mv own 1 fe : and that I will not give up happiness when it is offered

to me because my father demands an obedience which I should regard as submission to tyranny.' ' That is the modern creed,' Miss Felicia said, quietly, ' but it isn't the creed in which I was brought up, you know.' ' Oh, I know !' The bright young eyes swept the gardten enclosure in- eloquent commentary. You were Ibrougjht up to accept iwha-tevier was laid on you, to obey all commands, however arbitrary, and to sacrifice the happiness of your whole life, rather than revolt against the authority of your parents.' ' I should put it differently,' Miss Felicia's tones were clear and sweet and a little proud. ' I was trained to believe that ttoare were certain obligations higher than that of following, one's own will and seeking one's own happiness, obligations of honor and respect due to one's-, parents, of loy a lty to one's family traditions, - and of the necessity of bearing whatever burdens,' or ma&ing whatever sacrifices, are demanded in the name of duty.' ' It is a fine 'doctrine,' Fay admitted, ' and you- are a fine product of 'it. There's something wonderfully exquisite about you— like the perfume of your own roses— but nevertheless^ my soul rises in revolt against the doctrine, and your life which is the consequence of it. I never expect to understand how you could let "yourself be browbeaten into giving up the "man you lo.ved because your family disapproved of him.' Again Miss Felicia corrected her. ' You choose juir terms badly,' she said. ' I was not browbeaten in the leas*. But when I found that I had to choose between seeking happiness in my own way, at the cost of wounding and alienating those whom I loved and who had a ri ®KJ: 0 my otfedienoe, or yielding my own washes— ' Why, you just immolated yourself on the family al>i ar '« FaY , ' And not only yourself but Creoffrey Brett also. Now you had a right, perhaps to sacrifice your own life, but not his ' Miss Felicia] looked at the speaker wfaK an expresV-% in v hei l beautifu l dark eves which clutched at the guJ's heartstrings. $ Hema I TW^ t hfn CC a r Tea?' Oflrey Bre * t>S "'°'' She Sai "' 'Oh ! ' *>y criod > '*ut every one knows—' Miss Felicia's glance stopped her. '^\ te t had^ a very unfol ' t " na te disposition,' rhe m? 1 i* J ear tlhere 1S no dl0 ' üb * that sh e did not ,S c h l^ happy ' But there are other there are even better things than hap T mess in the' world, Fay I a£d tS?? Sad V'T f that h0 bore with her adtnirablv, t,Li ? \ T? a i She before she dled - acknowledged Ms u a a T eS> Fay# Ll sten to me now. You have been n ' in'Lv 0^ H no harm in that.' me? Speak the truth, Fay. Have you only come io A (pick flush rose into the girl's face t« « f °l She ad ' m ' itte(3i , ' I wrote to Geoffrey Brett like an elopement 7 ° Ur SanCtlOn ' IWt ™Hn't look renrlnS 6 wl sometU^ <* indignation, as_well as of reproach, mthe eyes which looked at the sneaker imw In> other words, you thought I would help you to to do a disgraceful thing,' Miss Felicda said severely fro; tn & Ravenel roof shelters no run-away daughter! Fay rose -to her fwt— disappointment and "anger strueigling. together on her face. « Then I— l'll co to Geoffrey,' she said. . . cm. ' J° U Tl 11 do , notMn S-of the kind,' her a unt replitvi h>he drew the erirl down beside her again-. ' You did not let me finish,' she said. ' I w a s gding to tell you

that, although you have been such a disobedient child, your father has written me that he puts your love aftair in my hands, and allows me to ghe'or withhold consent to your .marrying Geoffrey Brett.' ' ' Oh, Aunt Felicia ! ' The girl fell to kissing her rapturously. Then, of course, you will be glad to mase us happy.' ' Don't be too sure of that,' Miss Felicia said, smiling a little sadly. 'I may call upon you to show the mettle of. your courage, your power to make a sacrifice if necessary—' ' But it isn't, necessary \ Haven't you just- said that my father has practically consented ?' ' No ; I only said that he has left the responsibility of consenting to me ; and my consent depends on— do you know what, Fay ?' The girl mutely shooik her head. 'On Governor Brett s consent, my dear. This, as you probably lnow, he has explicitly and, I am sorry to add, insultingly refused. In a letter to your father he says that since in tames past the Ravenels Jeoiiajd to accept him as" a~ husband for one of their daughters, he can only suppose that if they are now willing to accept his son for another, it is owing to the fact that he has won great wealth, while the Ravenete have almost lost theirs. He therefore begs to decline the alliance, and -adds that he has iilormod his son that if he persists in marrying Miss Ravenei he will never inherit any part of his fortune.' 'Oh .' Fay's eyes blazed. ' And this is your Geoffrey Brett— the man you loved', Aunt Felicia,?' ' This,' Mi-vs Felicia said, « is the Geoffrey Brett whom long'-cherishcd resentment and too much association with the vulgar side of 1 worldly prosperity have made. *" And so the case stands thus, Fay— you may call yourself as modern and as independent as you will, but I am sure you can't disown the traditions of self-re-spect and pride that make it impossible for you to enter a family, the head of which has refused to receive you, and to condemn the man you love to poverty, as well as to alienation from his father.' With a very pale face the girl looked at the speaker. ' Aunt Felicia ! ' she gasped, appealingly. Miss Felicia took both her hands. ''Fay,' she said ' you /will noit disappointment me V ' It was as if a spark of fire went out from her soul to il indie the spirit of the other. Fay lifted her head, fco,' she replied, '• I won't disappoint you,. I will not marry Geoffrey Brett unless his father consents. Miss Felicia leaned forward and kissed her. ' I was s-',"re«ofs -'," re « of vaU) ' sne said sim Ply- ' And now tell me, is Geoffrey Breitt— your Geoffrey Brett— in town- ?' 'Geoffrey Brett, who isn't to be mine any longer is no doubt in town, though I haven't seen him ' Fay answered. .« Jt was arranged that we should both come here to-day ; but I couldn't tell by what train I would arrive, and besides I didn't want him to meet me in public. So I sent a note from the station- to his hotel making an appointment to meet him to-night—in your gar-den. ' ' Fay ! ' ' I thought,' Fay s a id, with something between- a sob and a laugh, ' that it would be delightfully romantic and appropriate for a Felicia Ravenei and a Geoffrey Brett to meet again in this old garden ; and^-and oh, Aunt Felicia, how you must have suffered ! And now can I— how can. I ever give up my Geoffrey ?' The bright *K>ad went down into the elder woman's Jap and while the sobs overpowered the laughter, Miss ;^ lCl^ /°° ked .around the garden, which had heard such sobs before, with a glamce which said' many things. Then she bent over the weeping, girl. ' Fay,' she said gently, « have courage, dear. ' Suffering passes after a while and leaves things behind it 7 2L"B worth ff fining, worth learning at any cost r, who have suffered, assure you of this. I -am glad +£ 7~ m TVI raPo"**. as I thought you. would, to T wni P6 n a X ha ' ve tt m ad e to you, but I promise you lhat I will spare no effort to gain happiness for you if" 'it can be gamed — ' - Fay lifted her tear-stained face proudly ' Therp Mv f n o°r e v o °u r ' P ° SSlble> Aunt Felicia She »a«.' f toast <? all * There may be one,' Miss Felicia answered. ** Let the appointment you have made to meet your lover in 'the widen here tonight remain umevoWd. When he comes I will meet him, and thm-weir, -then we shall see ' lino- +£ roS »f' *?» sywnga, a nd the honeysuckle were filiSL J°% mffH a l r T With almos * overoowerfag Pertump.. ? nd th«. youn.ee May moon was baneim? in silvw beauty m a hyacinth sky, when a man's figure stooped at the «,* IwlMrtHen in the lrifee which • bordered Mhe Ra-en ? garden. Almost imcnnsOouslv his fin-ers oulht a 'amihar l.teh, while he had an odd LnsaLn o "^ ping, back across the gulf a quarter of a century an d

finding his youth waiting for him amid the flowering . sweetness of the garden* within the green enclosure. He hesitated an instant, then with an impatient gesture, opened the ©ate and entered. 1 How. familiar it all was '.—and how unchanged. ! As he g]anced around he felt as if he w.ere welcomed on every side hy old friends, when stretched out cordial hands of greeting to Mm. The tall green hedges, the great flowering, shrubs, the climbing, roses— how paeremgly full of recollection they all were, and how he rould see Felicia, in her princess-like beauty and grace, coming to meet him down the rose-arched path ! He forgot, what had brought him there— forgot that he had come to repay Ms old suffering by maMng another suffer, to offer scorn where he had heen scorned. He could only thinlr of the Felicia whom he had loved so well ' ?.nd never forgotten, because she was not of the order of women whom men can forget. And then, as if in a dream, he saw Felicia herself coming to meet him— with her delicate beauty untouched, soi it seemed, by time. He caught his breath. Had the years rolled back and youth returned to him and to her ? As she, advanced and saw the tall figure awa.ii.ing her she too paused and 1 uttered a low exclamation. Geoffrey!' she eried I—or,1 — or, rather, breathed. At the sound of that voice 'he stepped forward-, and the next instant her hands were in' his. ' Feljcia !' lie said ; and' so they stood, for a silent minute, looking at each other in the wMte moonlight. Then the man spoke again : I 'Am I dreaming ?' he asked. 'It seems incredible that I really find you here unchanged, in this old garden whore we used to meet, and out of which I was cast as Adam out of Paradise. Felicia, have we died ?— And is this heaven in the guise of earth ?' ' No, Geoffrey,' the sweet tones for which his ears hid so often thirsted, answered him, "we have notified: and this is surely not heaven, for heaven holds no bitt.riess; and you — why are you here?' He dropred her hinds and drew back a step. ' You are risfot,' he said in a changed voice. 'I am here because of bitterness. I have come in place of another Geoffrey— a lotfrr intended for him was by mistake delivered to me — toi meet another Felicia, and repay the old scorn—' She interrupted him. ' Was there ever scorn ?' she as^od. ' Not Krom you, never from you,' he answered quickly, ' but from others, yes. And so I have grasped the means of retaliation. As this Ravenels once refused alliance with me, so I now refuse alliance with them ; and 1 am here to-ni ht to tell the girl who hade my son meet her that if she marries Wim she will marry a man who has cut himself off from his family, even as yoar family once toll yon.' ' Yes,' said Miss Felicia gently, ' I see. And as you cnne to meet the other Felicia, so I came to meet the other Geofirev and tell him— well, never mind what I meant to tell Wm ! For, instead of what we intended, fale has set us two once more face to face, and I tmnk it will be well that we shall tell each other how life his gone with us in the long years since we parted. Come — here is our old seat.' She w?l'ed as she spoi^e over to the bench where she had sat with Fay a few hours earlier, and with a gesture of her hand summoned the man to a seat beside her. When he sat down she turned her beautiful eyes on him in an intent regard. ' You have changed very much,' she sa*id, ' but ' I should have known you anywhere.' ' And you have chanced hardly at all,' he answered, d >vouring her with his sombre ga^e. 'It is as if one of the roses of that lone; past spring had been laid away and had never faded, only gained a deeper sweetness from time, which robs most thines of sweetmss. In God's name, Felicia, how have you done it ?' 'If I have done it,' she answered, cit has been Vy pu+tina; away from me everything which, was not sweet, all memories of bitterness, all vain and enervating regrets for happiness wnich was denied. It is because I h%vo lived like the roses, to which you are kind enough to liken me, in the sunshine, and tried to give back a little of it in fragrance.' 3 ' A little,' he murmured. ' A little.' ' Yom see,' she went on, ' T could not do ?;revb tiiinrs Hire you, neithier serve itfe state in public ' life, nor accumii'la^e wealth in enterprises, which have enr'cherl many b^sidts vo'irself. But- I ■ffave watched vnur • success from afar, and hia Tr e heen wroud and glad of it.' 1 Success !' he repeated— and in his voice now Was a cr-at bitterness. 'Do vo-i know that what you call success has been to me little more than failure, because ithas ne^er given me one hour of satisfaction ? BelWn me or not, but since I left this garden ipt rage and dls-

appointment, when you, told me that, being Corced to choose between your family and me you- chose your family, I have' never known what happiness means.' Then said Miss Felicia to him, as she had said to the girl wh"o sat beside her in 'the morning : ' There are better things ihan happiness ins the world, Geoffrey. The anger with which you left me was very sad; but' perhaps it was a goad to make you accomplish "things which you might else have left unaccomplished.' 'It was certainly that,' he agreed. 'I had not only to forget my sufferings and to forget you — for ■which purpose I plunged into wor£ and gave myself hardly a moment in which to think— but, I bad also to fulfil my determination to make the Ravenels regret what they had done. I swore not only to rise so high that they would recognise the mistake they had made, but to " gp.in power by which to injure them as they had injured me. And I have accomplished all that I promised'myself. I have lisen high, I have had power more than ones to shut your brother out from political and business comibiriarfvions which would have meant greater worldly prosperity for him had he been allowed to enter them ' ' Yes,' she assented quietly, ' I h a ve heard him speak cf that. Brett never forgets,' he said. ' I can always count, on him as an implacable foe.' . " • ' And then,' Brett went on,, ' my son came one day and told me he wished to marry Felicia Rev>enel. ; lie paused -a moment. ' I can never tell you what I felt when I heard that name. All the past rushed, back-. on me anl I saw that fate had given me my chance to strike a last blow. So I told him that -I would never consent to such a marriage and that if he -.persisted I should cut him off not only from association with nve, hut from any shiare in my fortune.' . '«' ' Well ? ' Miss Felicia's tone implied tliat there was no finality in this. ' Then ' — was it anger or was it pride in the father's tone ?— ' he told me that his word was given, and that while he was sorry to grieve and alienate me, he was bound, as man and as gentleman, to stand by it. There the matter rested until I learned yesterday th a t he had left for this place. I followed, determined that the Ravenels should at least know my exact position, and when I reached my hotel a note was put into my hands— a note which bade Geoffrey Brett be in the garden here' to meet Felicia Ravenel.' ' And so, without any arrangement of yours -or mine,' the woman 'beside him said, 'Geoffrey Brett and Felicia Ravenel have met to-night. Do you think that it has been for nothing ?— or to give you an opportuoity to express bitterness and repay, as you put -it, scor.n for scorn ? No ; 1 am quite sure that it 'was for something much better. It was, perhaps, 'that I milght tell you that tin the years since we parted ~ I have learned a great deal in the garden here, where I have chiefly spent my life. And the best thing which I have learned is that strength comes from suffering and renunciation. It is like the pruning: of the ' rose trees. One cuts them back severely, and for a time their bloom appears to be thwarted and stunted, but afterwards there corres the fuller, the more perfect, blooming. When I gave you up I seemed to cut away all the better part of myself, all the leafage and the flower of life, but you never understood that the force compelling me to tlfts was not hate— but love.' 1 .Love, Felicia ?" (To be concluded next week.)