THE LITTLE GOLD HEART

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXVII, Issue 9, 4 March 1909, Page 323

THE LITTLE GOLD HEART

The curtains were drawn in Miss Eleanor Hardwick's pleasant drawing-room, a _w 4 ood fire Jrarnt cheerily on the hearth, and the warm air was full of .scent of hothouse flowers. On a low table at her side a silver teakettle hissed and spluttered, -some muffins were keeping hot in the fender, and as she sipped her tea she turned over the leaves of a novel. -Her cousin had come in from the outer wintriness and gloom, flakes of snow still clung to her cloak, and her sweet, rosy # face was unusually serious. ■'..';- ~ , ' Eleanor, I Nvant^ you to help me. 1 , There was a note of tender appeal in her voice. 'Is it about some -new candlesticks for St. Francis . Xavier's?' said Miss Hardwick, . reluctantly -laying down her novel. - , -' 1 ' New candlesticks are needed, a new altar is needed, everything is needed at SI. Francis Xavier's/ But it - isn't that, Eleanor, it is the .Bartons.' , ' Who are the Bartons, pray ?' , * • ' Oh, Eleanor, you must remember ; they came to -the -' mission j about a year ago. Quite young people, with five - dear little' children. At first they seemed to be getting on" very well. But last autumn the father had pneumonia, and. since then they have had- one trouble after another. It is really pitiful; I just"niet the children coming from school in cotton blouses and with holes in their shoes.' Miss Hardwick drew her delicate black brows together. ' Why doesn't Father Carberry take them in hand?' 'The mission is such a poor one,' Gertrude spoke .with glowing cheeks, c and Father Carberry already does more than he ought to do, Do you know, Eleanor, he often gives away his dinner, and his housekeeper- says if she boils a new-laid "egg for his -breakfast he just puts it in his pocket for one of his invalids.*-

*No wonder he looks so gaunt and haggard. But- if you think I am going to follow , his example, Gertrude, you are quite mistaken.' - . , 111 1- never' thought of such a thing.' ' You are complimentary, my dear. -But, , seriously, it is quite out of my power to do anything- more in the -w.ay of chanty. If I tried to help everyone who needs helping; - I should soon need helping myself.' 'But" you are rich, Eleanor.' \r aye a P retty S° od income. Uncle- William left me all he had, and I have tried to make good use of his money. He * knew all I had suffered from being poor inmy young days, and was determined that I should be made comfortable for the rest of my life. lam able to dress well, keep a good table, have decent servants — travel when I wish to travel, choose my own amusements ' ' Yes, Eleanor.' ' Why do you speak in that tone of voice ?' ' I don.'t know. But somehow I don't believe you care so much for things of that sort as you pretend to care. They don't really make one happy. ' They are a good framework for happiness, at any rate. You are so much younger than I am, Gertrude, and you don't understand. When one is getting to be middleaged, one's horizon changes, one knows that a comfortable home, nice clothes, good food, cheerful society are all indispensable. My doctor was only telling me the otherday that if I wished to keep decently well, I must live in the sunshine — mentally as well as physically — and that I must avoid everything depressing as if it were poison. So you see you mustn't bring me any more of your harrowing tales.' 'But if you would help the Bartons, it would make you happy — not unhappy,' said Gertrude, gently. - Eleanor sighed. - ' You won't understand ! I meant what I said about not being able to help them. And if you can't help people it is so distressing to hear of their troubles. I may have a good income, but the expenses of. my household are very great — you do not" know how great. Even one's clothes become a problem. Yesterday I was looking over my furs, and I was snocked to see how shabby they were getting. It is absolutely necessary for me to have - a new seal-skin coat._ You see, I must keep warm ' Gertrude looked at her cousin as she lay back among the embroidered cushions of her easy chair, the firelight flickered on the rich folds of her crimson silk tea-gown, and on the diamond brooch she wore among her laces ; her dark eyes looked for the moment as hard and bright as the glittering jewels. ' Then it is no use saying anything more about the Bartons,' she said, drawing on her gloves. There was a quiver in her voice. -' I'm afraid not. But I'm extremely sorry to disappoint you, Gertrude, and when I have a little more money at my disposal, when things are less pressing, I'll try to do something.' ' But it is now they need help,' cried Gertrude, her soft eyes all alight. 'As I came here I began to plan all I would do for them if I could. I thought I'd get the children warm coats and stout shoes, and a thick overcoat for their father, and a shawl and new bonnet for,- their mother; hers in quite brown with age. Then. I'd put a ton of coal in their cellar and write out a cheque for ten pounds so that .they'd be able to pay their rent, and the butcher and baker, and have something to go on with ' Eleanor smiled rather cynically. ' I always notice that people who have nothing to * give are so wonderfully generous.' Gertrude's head dropped. 'At least I can pray for them,' she murmured. ' Goodbye, Eleanor.' ' Good-bye, my dear. You must not think that lam not very sorry for the Bartons, but one can't make too great sacrifices. When you are older you will understand the value of money better.' ' Father Carberry says nothing we have is ours — he says we are God's stewards,' cried Gertrude, lifting her head. ' That „ may be true theoretically, but common sense tells me that my money is mine as long as I'm alive, and that if I don't take care of myself no one else will. When shall I see you again, child?' ' I am going round to see the Bartons, and there is Benediction this evening, but I'll try to look in after j church,' said Gertrude, in a low voice. Then she wns gone, and Miss Hardwick, settling herself more comfortablyamong her cushions, sank into a deep reverie, her- bVown -eyes gazing absently into the glowing depths of. the fire. The time went by, and presently a letter .was handed to her as she still sat absorbed in her thoughts. It was a letter from her brother, and she vaguely noticed that his

cfie^hp^^-^^f 611 *'?0111? 0111 u ? ua1 ' less neat and pre- - cisc , lie had evidently written hurriedly. *™ + , se^: sat ii s fi ed importance she never dreaihed^Kat any -great .trial might come to her. - But as she 'F&<Pnfr brother's lette^her face suddenly became tense and rigid and the color left her cheeks and lips-her hands trembled -- What was this? Her Uncle William's property had been claimed by an elder branch of the family-a later will had been placed in the hands of the lawyers It was true-al true.- After living all these 7 yeaVs ■in affluence, she was practically penniless. « ' In utter bewilderment of spirit .she tried to face this new condition of things. All her pleasant, easy ways of enjoying life were over and done with. What would Gertrude think? Her face softened, a little at the thought 'hLr£/° U «r ; she ™ a & } w^ s so sympathetic, so tenderhearted. ~ She would go to her at once with this terrible news, follow her to the mission church ; perhaps -Father Carberry might -suggest something. Rising hastily to her feet, she threw a cloak over hershoulders and stole out of the house that was no loneer hers. The snow had left off falling, but an icy wind blew in her face, the ground was frozen hard, and she noticed tt^at on the telegraph wires, either side of the road slie I!*%J T 5 V ! lm ?l shiverin S bird s dazed with the cold, were huddled together. No other -signs of life were visible \ barren stretches of country surrounded her, heaped here 'a £ 1 ,, c Wltlx mounds of cinders and other refuse. It w*s -the. black country seen on a winter's day beneath a lowering sky. She struggled on against the wind, while the cold seemed to grow more and more intense, and it was with, a feeling of relief she at length caught sight of a small building from whose doors ; and windows a warm glow was streaming. This was St. Francis Xavier's, without a doubt: she could see the cross above the porch, and recognised the odd-looking little belfry. And now a bell began to clang loudly whilst hurrying figures appeared out of the gloom She entered the church with the rest, and taking a seat by the door looked around her with the feeling of having found a temporary place of refuge, but was struck at : I hesame time by the cold bareness of the little church.. There • were not even the Stations of the Cross upon its whitei- washed walls, and .the altar appeared to Be composed of boards supported on trestles; she could see these - trestles distinctly beneath the flimsy altar*cloth. A few artificial flowers were in the glass vases, but there were no other attempts at adornment, and the candlesticks were dingy and battered-looking. She had been to the church once before at Easter-time^ but had not been impressed as she was now with its poverty-stricken look. »- ■ A wave of shame and remorse suddenly swept over her • as she remembered how she had filled her own house with every .possible luxury whilst . she had left the house of God utterly unconsidered. What" could she do to remedy her neglect? Alas, it was too late; she could do nothing; she was as poor as the poorest of these people thronging into the church.. Some of them she noticed were almost - in rags. Were those children' with the little wan faces and flaxen hair Gertrude's proteges? she "wondered. One -was a cripple. What large, pathetic eyes -the -little fellow had, and how closely his father held his" hand clasped in his own! Neither of them -looked fit to be out on such a night as this; both were, thin and hollow-cheeked — insufficiently clad. With another awful pang of ' remorse Miss Hardwick recalled how she had refused that yery; evening to help them out of her abundance, and now it waa too late to. make amends; she could do nothing, absolutely nothing. • . • Staring blankly before- her, she paid no attention to the murmur of prayer that was now filling the church as the Rosary was recited ; and, presently Father Carberry stood up to preach. She saw -his plain, kindly face turned in her direction, and strangely enough he had taken for his text the parable of the Rich Fool. \^ith direct, , homely eloquence he was dwelling on the consequences, of selfishness, avarice, and pride, of those who gathered riclies together for themselves — who never thoughts of God or of their neighbor — who were rich in the eyes of the world, but beggars in the sight of- their Creator — who were known in the world but unkuown in Heaven. . When their souls were at length required of them, they stood forth in^their true character, ' wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked. .- .' He spoke of tho woman who decked out her house in greatest magnificence, but -who refused to give the smallest gift to God's altar — of the woman who would spend fifty pounds on a new tea-gown or set . of furs, but who allowed her neighbor's child to die for want of proper food and clothing— these were the spiritual outcasts ! . . Miss Hardwick shivered. Why was Father Carberry's gaze fixed upon her, searching out the very depths of her soul? Surely; she had heard this sermon before,

when it was not too late, T>ut had listened all unmoved. And what was he saying now in such a changed and tender voice. He was speaking of the love of God and of those who returned His love; of -those who humbly and joyfully laid down their possessions at the Feet of their Saviour, making use of their wealth solely for God's glory — making use of their poverty also for His glory — souls, rich .with the riches of faith and love — the eternal, everlasting riches' common to all mankind, the riches that can alone fill the treasuries of Heaven, that can alone satisfy the Heart of God. Give Me thy love, says our Divine Redeemer ; thy love is all I require of thee ; give Me thy heart. Dimly, as in a dream, Miss Hardwick he rd the voice of Father Carberry rising and falling; then all was still in the little church, but at her side stood •an altar-boy- with an alms' dish. ' I have nothing to give, child,' she cried hoarsely. A radiant smile passed over the boy's angelic face. He was gone for -a moment, then returned holding in, his hand a gold coin to which was attached a small "golden heart. ■ '-You can give this, lady,' he said, offering it to her with a gracious gesture. ' Child, it isn't mine to give ! ' ' The Father gives it to you. You will only return what is his. You do not wish to keep your heajbt' for yourself. Take it, lady.' The little golden heart was pressed -into her hand,, and still «s in a dream, she raised it to her lips and kissed . the holy Name inscribed upon its glowing surface, then* tremulously placed it in the alms' dish. Again the altar^* boy smiled, and the candles were lit on the altar, and -^ Benediction began. Christ Himself was blessing the kneeling people. Miss Hardwick's head was. bent very low. She -had lost the opportunity of serving God with her uncle's money, but she would strive to make amends for her' selfish wickedness. In lior poverty she would turn to God, - resign herself to His will-, offer Him all that remained of her poor, misspent life. Burning tears rolled down her cheeks ; she looked up ; the people were singing the*- ' Adoremus.' ~ J~ But suddonly the singing died away. Where was sho? The whitewashed walls, the lighted altar, had disappeared. Where was sheß Surely in her own room! Was it then all a dream? Miss Hardwick sat in bewildered thought — almost overpowered with amazement and awe. ' Have you been asleep, dear Eleanor ?' ' It was Gertrude wlio was speaking — Gertrude who was smiling down at her. 'Have I been asleep? I think so. Did Father .Carberry preach ? ' , 'He never preaches on Friday evening. We had the - Rosary and Benediction.' 'To be sure. Gertrude, I particularly wish to see Father Carberry. It is disgraceful that nothing has been done for his church, and I want to talk to him about a new altar. Do yoti think lie would like one of carved oak? Then the candlesticks you spoke of, and the Stations of the Cross for those terrible bare walls.' ' Have you been thinking of all this since I left you, Eleanor ? ' asked Gertrude, her soft ey"es glowing with pleasure and surprise. ' Perhaps. And there is something else. I-vwant to help those Bartons; I am sure they ought to be helped. Will you tell me again just what they need and I'll write out a cheque ' Gertrudo uttered an exclamation. • ' How good you are— you make mo foel perfectly happy, Eleanor.' . ' I'm glad of that. I feel happy, too.' • ' ' 'But won't you be ruined, darling?' Miss Hardwick blushed. ' No, no. It will only mean giving up a few unnecessary luxuries. I believe my new sealskin coat will pay for everything. You _ see, Gertrude, I'm coming to see" things more from your standpoint and Father Carberry's standpoint. I want to make a really good, wise use of my uncle's money. You must help me, child.' — English Messenger. ♦ If you want a parcel sent anywhere, just notify us, and we will collect it from you and deliver it wherevor required, either in New Zealand or abroad. We do carting work of all kinds, remove furniture (for this work we have special vans and experienced ,nion), transport tourists' baggage from place to place, and provide sample rooms and storage accommodation. N.Z. EXPRESS CO. Branches and agencies everywhere.... Z < ~ ■