The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 31 December 1908, Page 3

The Storyteller

delight and inspiration. Michael Jordan, in spite of his college professorship, was with many people only 'Miss Jordan's brother.' : • And he smiled one a more to hear her so described, even though by an ignorant mountaineer. 'She ia; considered, mighty clever where I come from,' he said now. ' P'raps she is,' replied the other indifferently. 'P'raps back here it's only goodness [ counts.' Michael Jordan looked at him sharply. 'Surely no one has any complaint to make on that score?' he . said. ' ' I'm not saying— l don't know her. She is the right kind.' There was little encouragement in his voice. Michael Jordan stretched his limbs to the warmth of the fire. Christmas eve in the mountains is apt to be bitter cold, and the sharp frost had seemed, this last hour, to be eat ing into his vitals. A pleasant languor Was stealing o^ver him; he knew that in a few moments he would fall asle-ep. But sleep now would mean the biggest part of his journey in the dark — and that was to be- avoided by a man who had not travelled that path in nearly ten years. ' Your fire is pleasant— much too pleasant,' he said with a laugh. 'I can hardly summon courage for the last lap. Tell me,' he continued, 'do. you know or sen anything of the Clifton people? How is old Mr. Miqhael?' The man did not answer at once, and when he did iv was in a harsh voice. ... r '.■•'■• 'I have not seen him in a long while— l do not kriow how he is.' ' You seem a bit ungracious for Christmas eve,' said Jordan easily. 'You may warm ydurself at my fire and welcome,' returned the man as easily, if more gruffly. Jordan flushed. 'I meant no offence—- believe' me, none. It's the season of good-will. I myself,' he stared thoughtfully into the. leaping flames, 'feel as if this Christmas eve is indeed a llessed one. Have you or any .one anything against the Jordans? If you have, speak up, and on. the honor of a Jordan I'll set it straight for you this night." 'The — honor — of — a — Jordan 1 ' The young man caught a sudden gleam of the eye, a sudden twitchin_g r.f the mouth, a sudden gripping of the 'sinewy fingers that woke him to a sense of danger. 'I am old Mr. Michael's son,' he said; as he surveyed the other other calmly. 'If you have anything to say to him or to me, say it now like a man, face" to face.' A challenge rang .in his tones: the other ignored it, leaning his head against the wall, tilting back on, his stool. 'Old Mr. Michael's son I' he repeated. 'Ah, Tvell! You'll be in your own home for Christmas Day, God willing.' , , ' God willing, yes 1 But you are not replying to my question— — ' The man looked at him with odd dignity. 'Sir, it is time that yo,u» r set out.' There was no emotion of any kind visible on his face. ''Twill be pitch dark in an hour, and it is easy for a man to make a. misstep — a man, I mean, not. used to travelling these roads. I'm not wanting to show you my door; that would be nothing for a Catholic or a Christian to do at such a time as this What way might you be taking home ? ' 'Straight as the path leads,' said Michael Jordan. 'You know the turn, perhaps, that goes past the Black Gully— the short cut?' ', 'I know it well.' v „ v 'And would take it?' . 'Yes.' ... : '-. -!' : The other looked him straight in the eyes, and his glance was a meaning one. ".'.'. 'You're apt to meet with danger,' he said. 'Go straight; you won't lose more than ten minutes by the straight path.' , Michael Jordan touched his pocket .suggestively. . 'I am always ready for danger,' he remarked; ' I go prepared. for it,' He rose and went to the door, opening it and letting in a blast of cold air. His shadow fell large before him on the white snow. He was tired; the short spell of jest had only served to emphasise his fatigue. There was a rough blanket thrown across his mare's back— he wai pulling it off as hisJiosfc appeared, at the door. > ; 'Sir, mind me when . I j tell you— : — ' - - Tired; as* he was and. angered by this time, Jordan -,. turned on him with an exclamation. ' I don't know who you are,' he said, .' nor what your motive may be. But I ini;end taking the road I .choose to reach Clifton, and if any man interferes to prevent me ' he shall be well paid for his pains.'

„, &ir ! . said . the man, quietly this time. ' You have fc K ™ SlSter ' an^ f °i' all I know, a .wife waiting do "if + v y ° U wa ™ tllem - t0 have a merry Christmas, ™LA " you - , Tliat ' s a J L '-Aiid-iibbodycansay.l wronged you 4 now.' ; w^f H? S? i olce * ''V th ,' remarka We dignity, and so speaking" went mside and shut the cabin door behind him, that action mow? than his words convincing the traveller of his nonesty. Jordan sprang, on the mare's hack, nor, when he came to the cross-cut, did he hesitate, but kept steadily f^'iw Jw^'vJ 18 ? a ? ger lurkin 2 f <* him in the. Black Orully, that night; at least, he avoided it. He was well warmed, well fed, and thoroughly- comfortable before he thought, later on, of mentioning his encounter ; with the man in the valley. v They were gathered, at the big hearth-t^ice as big as the other at which he had lately seated himself, and the logs radiated a kindlier glow, for this was the fireside of home. And no fireside can equaL the home fireside on .Christmas eve. His ■father was^ half buried irj the depths of a huge armchair, a pipe between his lips. His sister sat ouposite him nearer rhe fire, so that when he looked at her, her side h^ette a S ainst the MazeNvitL the sharpness of a silIn appearance they were a; striking family. The older man with white hair, and flowing, snow-white beard, his teatures. sharp, cleanly cut, handsome, and yet inclined to severity. Michael Jordan resembled his father closely, and would probably at his age resemble him still more' The daughter Helen had less perfect features, perhaps, but she, too, was like her father without his severity! And it was odd how that lack of severity could sbften a wliole countenance. -*lWh V a o S^ ed Michael Jordan at last, ' owns the cabin an the valley r ' >:•'-. There was a noticeahle silence. Helen Jordan, bending forward, her chin resting- in her palm, echoed his words. '"'The cabin in the valley? That sounds— poetical ' And who is the tall, thin, wiry, extremely disagreeable, and not extraordinarily hospitable creature who presides over .it?;'. .'..'' 'v ' Do you imagine,- father,' asked Helen Jordan, after a moment, 'that he means. Barney Delaney ? ' Michael Jordan, seated under his father's roof for the first time in years, suddenly became conscious of. a strange, atmosphere. He felt part of it, but .as if he had been drawn into it without his consent; and yet he had no desire to retreat— rather to stand his ground, to reach below the surface. It stirred him somewhat to feel, as he telt, that here, m this retired spot, human, emotion had its will and its way, and human passions threshed themselves out. Between his father, and his sister there seemed to spread a sense of distance, across which" one looked at the other— the young and the old.' ' • :-. •'- / ' Old Mr. Michael Hew out a big cloud of smoke. 'Did he tell you/ scornfully, 'all his sad story?' - Extremely disagreeable— arid not extraordinarily hospitable is Michael's description,' said Helen, neither to her father nor to her Brother, biit to the leaping flames ,i> which her eyes were riveted. v - ; ' - v 'He told me nothing of himself,' sa^'the young man quietly,, and would not speak to me until he found out my destination— and my name. And then he warned me, it T wished you, father, and you, sister > to have a merry Christmas, to come straight and avoid the Black Gully where danger lurked. And although I have my gun and good jack-knife — I took his' advice.' '" " Miss Jordan bent closer to the fire, and her slim fin--1 gers entirely covered her : face now. My. Michael took the pipe from his lips, and they curled backwards in an - ugly sneer. ~ :■■ 'So ! 'he said. ' Tliat was their game; Oh, indeed — that was their game I 3 Helen . spoke* her voice somewhat muffled, her words very slow, very impressive. ' I dreamed, this night one week ago, that you were on your way home to us, that I saw you lying face • down- ■ ; ward in the Black Gully with 'a knife between ymir shoulders. This was my dream.' \'Well, it has not come true,' said her brother^ striving to speak lightly despite the uncanny feeling her words evoked. ' '. - i '.No. Barney Delaney prevented it.' *.. . ' -;'oli,,;Baraey Delaney—' .'.,JOid Mr. Michael said nothing ftiTther. He put his pipe back in his "mouth. _ ,' His wife died three years ago : to-night,' said Helen Jordan. 'There is a story— would you Jike .to hear it, . Michael ?' ■ ■ ' •-." ; ■'■■-■•••■:• .- ■■■•: . ' '-.';'' l have no objection.' '• ; '• '-''-;- ■•.-■'.. / •■'.. /.- --'.ln.ln father's .way of it-r-or mine?' '■ In the true way/ ' ' ' 'That will depend upon the- point of view,'

The young man did not answer. ' Father— is it to be your' 'version "or mine?' The old man^s lips "curled once more. ■ ' I have never had the pleasure of hearing yours, Helen Let me have it now. J - ■ 'It will give ; you no pleasure. s , !Su' g0 on ' S° oa ?^ W^at does it matter?' The Delaneys settled here, as I have said, about ftve years ago,' began. Helen abruptly. ' I had just cpme back from college. Perhaps it was in my honor '—she shrugged her shoulders— < that father thought of enlarging Uifton and jnaking it more modern.. Modern 1 To please ' me! She laughed, and there was. a note of unbelief in ; that laugh < The .Delaneys lived this side of the .bridge,and fathers first idea had to: do Avith the bridge He wanted to enlarge it,, and make a- grand pavilion or garden o* some kind just about the spot where Delaney's pretty little cottage stood. He gave Delaney notice to quit Delaney protested. - .Father insisted. Delaney came to see him told him that the wife— a delicate, sickly, fragile little thing she was— had taken an overoowering love to ' the place because it and the surroundings, reminded her of her home m Ireland., He begged and begged, day aft;er day. He asked to stay until .the baby was born— a matter of three or four months. Three or four months was an eternity; father refused. Then the man, who hadtaken a lease, made up his mind to fight. -Father found a way to break the lease, and was on "the noint of turning them out altogether ,upien they w,ent quietly— through the ; wites influence and the influence of a missionary Catholic priest whom they call Father Maurice. He says Mass 1 believe, when he visits here— which lie does every Christmas eve— in the Delaney cabin. They built the small hut you were in to-day, and there the baby was born, and there rit died. Died on Christmas eve. The wife lingered for a year. On the anniversary of the little thing's death, -; she _asked her husband to carry her up the. mountain path to the place which reminded her of her home.' Helen paused, and sat back suddenly. ' Her voice sank a few notes lower. 'Oh, it was a grand, spot then— father's money had transformed it. It is very beautiful still. You must go f ee i^ Michael— but I— l can not stand there without a shudder. In his strong and loving arms he carried her and no one dared bar his path, not even father. To that spot he carried her. She lifted her head from his shoulder to look out upon the mountains and the valleys She heaved a little sigh of content, breathed a Braver, they told me; whispered her husband's name, her "child's— and ... t '£^-'' m « rm "red Michael Jordan, carried out -of himself by this recital. Not another word broke the silence, not another sound It was a clear-cut summary of unkindness and harshness No note of emotion crept into her snlendid voice— aiid it was a splendid voice for the telling of such a tale. Old Mr. Michael s pipe rested immovably between his lips ; he ■stared into the fire, listening, seeing visions— unable to' connect himself in any way. 'with this statement of bare tacts in the sweet tones of the daughter he loved well arid loved better for her frankness. The moments slipped by. The big clock in the hall sounded the hour of ten.; A log fell, the suarks flyW' up in a great shower. The brother turned his head. The silence had become distressing. 'Was there no* other reason— none? Was it because of the grand pavilion only that father wanted Barney Delaney's home?' > - • Helen Jordan smiled. . ' Yes, oh, yes, indeed there, was another reason. Father. • did not. like to have a Catholic priest" and his heatheniph practices so very close to him, even if. he only comes fortunes a year," Father* you know, is of the ancient stock, and still raves of Papistry and the Scarlet Woman.' She laughed softly, looking at the old man with affectionate raillery in her eyes. . . 'As if we had not outgrown such superstition in these -, enlightened days! As if we are not willing to acknowledge the divine right of all religions! Even you or I, father, or Michael here, can set up a little religion. Why not? Who is to prevent it ? ' She was mocking now— not at her father. Indeed, even when telling Barney Delaney's story there was that "'-" in her voice which precluded all notion of disrespect. ,-■/ She seemed to stand aloof, to view mankind from a^ pei---foctly- impartial point of view, -and one that made sarcasm easy. Yet she was not! cynical. Her brother felt i that she was entitled to the laurels she had won abroad— • her very mariner convinced him .of this There was power • and strength and judgment here, and mentally.;he''acknowledged tbem./ ' Helen !'. said old Mr, Michael, 'I do not know what your schools have taught you, but. I do not like to hear sneering words on a woman's lips. It lowers her sex, he •

dignity. lam what ray fathers were before me, I know what I believe. The Catholic Church is" an abomination miny sight!- I would: rather meet a crawling viper than : a Cathoh-c priest!' ; He thundered • out the last, words. Her story had :. thrilled turn ;; he had been filled with nity for the ma 1 .'.Vf. Pictured, and he realised that" he was condemning him- - self,' that she had made him out a tyrant. Perhaps he was not a tyrant,:biit he was a big6t. ' . v '". _:;-,-' His" soii spoke again, his voice coming evenly upon . the angry atmosphere. , And there is no other reason now why the mountaia- " people should hate lis?' ■■'-' - : ' Thfe'enmity starts from that day. It has not abated since. Give a dog a bad name— you know the rest; aiid they have certainly made it uncomfortable for father, who has not. yet. learned meekness.' J . •It culminated to-night,, then. Do you think ' tb»y meant to kill me?' . ' -.'No.,' said Helen, a shadow on. her face: 'to lnirt you perhaps— but, oh, not to kill — — ' ' Her brother shrugged his shoulders. . ' How do you know ? Can any die . foresee, the outcome of such an attack? I, in defence of my life, wbiild .have killed. That is a man's right— to defend his life ■ Barney Delaney added to fathers debt by his words of /warning.' ,- 'Del)t!' cried the old man hotly. , .'Oil, sir, is it no del)t to be the author of such a memory in a fellow-being's mind? Is not .sorrow hard enough without making it cruel and bitter arid unkind to recollect? And is 'tt no debt that I sit here . whole and sound of body — through this poor fellow's warning 3 Father, as you are a just arid honorable man, is that no debt?' . - •' The old man said no word. He rose, without a single glance at either of them, and walked out of the. room. A noble figure, proud and stately, and one to be looked at' with pleasure. Biit Helen and her brother sat quiet, hi-j empty ohair between them, staring into the fire on the "hearth. 'Helen,' said Michael Jordan, his . face working a little, c I have something to tell you that I think 'you ' will understand — something beautiful and lovely and. holy. She inclined her head toward him Between thes-^ two, sa often separated, so long apart/ existed, a perfect communion, as rare as it was entire. ; 'I love a woman, and to-night, as you told that story of Barney Delaney's, I seemed to put myself into his place. She, too, is fragile, delicate, lovable, gentle,. She is pact of. my life, of my heart — and she, too, is a Catholic.?. .Helen did not speak, but her face and her eyes bega'i to shiae suddenly.- Not from the firelight, but because of ..some strange and wonderful joy that seerhed to * well up from Jier very soul aiid break through the outer cohering of flesh. He did not see this light as he leaned forward across their, father's empty chair ancl took her hand;. It was cold, although the fiui'erers clung-.. to' hr* tightly." 'Dreamer of beautiful dreams/ they call you in your '• wpi;ld;.seer/of strange visions. I did not know why, until nqyi.', /when, you made that prosaic mountaineer a heroic figure; /Tell :riie What, you see for me.' N 'Michael,' she said slowly, -'forgive hie' if, as on every other Christmas eve since it happened, I can only see that one being — that sad, heart-broken, brave fellow, carrying a woman in his arms to the mountain-top. And I see — saddest of sorrowful things ! — that same . N man with a face like a mask of stone, bearing all that is left of her eyes— and it hurts my heart.'. (To be concluded.).