A CHRISTMAS PLEDGE

New Zealand Tablet, 22 December 1910, Page 10 (Supplement)

A CHRISTMAS PLEDGE

The clock in the tower of St. Xa/ier's Church was striking twelve as Margaret Clifton came slowly down the steps and turned up the avenue in the direction of home. The dull, gray shadows of the December afternoon were already descending upon the New England city as the young girl made her way along the thoroughfare, at that hour thronged with a heterogeneous mass of hurrying humanity prosperous merchants, laborers hastening to their mid-day meal, women laden with their over-burdened marketbaskets, newsboys, peddlers, boot-blacks, every phase of metropolitan life had its representative. But to-day class distinctions seemed destroyed; a common tie of sympathy had united education and illiteracy, wealth and poverty, the aristocrat and the plebeian. Even a casual observer would have remarked the atmosphere of goodwill; a philosopher might have voiced his theory concerning the interwoven bonds of human affection —but to Margaret Clifton it was just Christmas eve, and the city was preparing to welcome the Yuletide with its customary holiday generosity. 'How happy everyone looks!' the young girl thought, as she scanned interestedly the faces of the passers-by. Her own embodied _ the universal joy and anticipation! 'Christmas is certainly a mental lubricator; it oils the machinery of our hearts and sets all the wheels of charity and goodwill in motion. Persons whose hearts have been frozen throughout the year thaw instantly at the sight of holly wreaths and the sound of Christmas bells. If the Christmas spirit could only last a little longer than a week, the poor, at least, would be richer, and the rich, a little happier ' ; as she noticed a crabbed old man drop a coin into a beggar's outstretched palm. ' I really believe ' 'Day-dreaming of Santa Claus, Miss Clifton?' asked a voice; and turning, she beheld a tall, broad-shouldered type of Apollo walking beside her. ' Do you know,' the young man continued, warmly clasping the hand extended to him, ' T have been endeavoring to attract your attention for the last five minutes, but you were so occupied with your reflections that I could make not the slightest impression upon you.' ' A convincing proof that there is no telepathy between us, Mr. Norwood,' Margaret replied, withdrawing her hand, while beneath his gaze the rose color deepened in her cheeks. ' I have been thinking, not of Santa Claus exactly, but of the spirit of happiness around us. It is in the very atmosphere; one inhales it with the oxygen. Don't you find it exhilarating?' ' Very exhilarating—for the time being,' he responded ; ' but I am afraid one glance into my dreary, bachelor apartments will cast me, by the very laws of contrast, into the lowest depths of despondency.' 'What a gloomy frame of mind for Christmas Eve!' she cried. 'What can I do to dissipate it? But first, since I see you are remaining in town for the holiday, let me extend you a most cordial invitation to dine with papa and myself to-morrow ' 'Which I instantly accept, with everlasting gratitude!' interrupted the young man, his face lighting up. ' You have certainly banished my pessimistic attitude, Miss Clifton 1 cannot be gloomy in the face of such a prospect.' ' Rather, in the face of the approaching snow-storm,' she corrected, laughingly attempting to catch a feathery crystal in her daintily gloved hand. ' See, the first flakes are falling; I was beginning to fear the snow fairies would not smile upon us this year, and a Christmas without their presence is only half Christmas.' ' It certainly contributes to the Christmas spirit,' he agreed. 'And we need every aid, do we not? For, seriously, aside from the feasting and merry-making, there seems to be so little of the true Christmas spirit nowadays.' 'What is your definition of the term, Miss Clifton ?' he asked. ' Well,' she replied thoughtfully, 'charity, I suppose, is the first item—real charity, I mean; not the mere giving of money, but an act of love towards our fellow-men which exacts some sacrifice on our part.' 'A form of charity not greatly in vogue,' he interposed. At this season,' Margaret went on thoughtfully, 'I always feel that I would like to give to our Saviour' some pledge of my , love that has been Purchased with the coin of self-denial. But, somehow, the opportunity never comes; or, if it does, 1 am deaf to its voice. The*corporal works of mercy, I fear,' she added, ' are but so many words to me; yet I would truly like to meet them in practice as well as in precept. ' Then meeting Frank Norwood's gaze, comprehensive yet openly admiring, Margaret broke off with an embarassed laugh. ' But we are certainly moralising this afternoon are we not? To change the subject, I suppose you will attend the Midnight Mass?' 'Of course; and you 'Oh yes; and am'anticipating it with the greatest pleasure. 1 lie western town where, as you know, we lived until the past year, boasted only a mere handful of Catholics and a Mass at midnight was unheard of. So, for me it will have the added attraction of being a novelty But

here we are at home,' she added, stopping before a handsome residence which, even from the exterior, emanated a spirit of culture and refinement. ' Won't you come in, Mr. Norwood? Papa had a business engagement in another city to-day, but I am expecting his return every minute. ni-J 1 , am afraid I must deny myself that pleasure, Miss Ljlirton, he said ruefully; ' I have an appointment with a client at one o'clock; but I will be with you to-morrow without fail.' ' Very well; we dine at three. Until then, good-bye, and a i merry Christmas!' • 'Thank you,' he said, taking her hand; 'and in the meantime, may you be given an opportunity to satisfy your craving for self-sacrifice!' and, lifting his hat, the young lawyer strode rapidly down the street, i ii Elt T erin S the house, Margaret met a maid crossing the hall. Has my father arrived yet, Ellen?' she asked. No, ma am; but there's a telegram come for you, Miss Margaret not five minutes ago. It's in the library. ma'am, shall I fetch it?' ' ' Never mind, Ellen, I'll go for it myself,' and, smiling pleasantly, Margaret passed through a door on the right and disappeared. & 'She's a sweet one, God bless her!' the girl muttered. • IHe world would have a happier Christmas if there were more like her in it'; and with a warm feeling in her heart, she hastened away. ' In the meantime, Margaret had torn open the telegram and was reading the contents. , 'Have been detained in W , but will be with you Clifton and early to wish you a merry Christmas.—J. B Uiirton. 'Too bad!' Margaret exclaimed aloud; but after a regretful pause she added : ' I suppose I mustn't worry over what can t be helped, so now for a quiet afternoon.' Selecting a book from one of the numerous cases, she drew; a chair to the hearth and commenced to read. But despite herself, her thoughts reverted to Frank Norwood and the conversation she had had with him on her way home. She had been in earnest when she spoke of her desire to do some real good to usher in the Christmas least; lier words were not merely the outpouring of some passing emotion, inspired, perhaps, by the hour she had spent before the altar of St. Xavier's, but the sincere expression of long thought. She was of that humble nature which never sees the good it really does, but only tie vast field yet remaining to be accomplished; hence, the genuine self-deprecation expressed in her words to the young lawyer. The entrance of a servant aroused Margaret from her CSwSi atte!° oked " P " the gir1 ' CroSSi " g the ™». ma'am l,l6 b ° J ***** brought h said there was no answer, miiokomvl' Z e]] '' i e P lied Mar S aret carelessly; but her heart quickened its pulsings as she recognised the writingDear Miss Clifton, — 'ln the light of the past hour's events, I am beginning prophecy my parting words to you as in the nature of a prophecy. 'Just after I left you, I met Bob Farrington. He has quite a philanthropic practice in the poorer section of the city, and as we walked along, he told me of a very sad case he had just left. y /The patient— Gregson is her name—is dying rapidly; she has no relatives, and has been wholly dependent upon the charity of the neighbors. They have taken S* nS U) remaining with her, but somehow, the fact spread among them that she is not expected to live through the clay; and, owing to a foolish superstition about being with a dying person on Christmas Eve, no one can be persuaded £, a >LT f l th 7'- B ° b Said he had ' phoned to the hospitals, to be moved SeC " re & UUrSe; &nd the Wman is to ° ™ ,„,l '/ f n r H left * suddenl y remembered our conversation, and deeded to write to you about the case. If you were r 'A?eve??' Iat i e has indeed p la y ed into y ou r haS As ever, sincerely yours, ~,. , 'Frank Norwood.' At the bottom was the woman's address Margaret read the letter a second time, then rose with £ Z m °! te.. rea ° lled ' <>--". and, ? r e osl^ . 'Tell James to bring around the carnage in fifteen "d Fien " hei V tb e maid answered the summons" and, Ellen ask the cook to fix me a basket of nourishing food acbled"S as she can, and put in some candles too/ she added; and the girl, with a questioning look, hurried 11. nf Half an hour later Margaret was mounting the stairs of a small tenement house at the other end of the city. She Mas not afraid, for she realised that the neighborhood now g nnr + i r ' WaS eminently respectable; yet she glanced; held fn her hand encouragement, at the letter she be+l'JS?'* 1001 "'-. r ?r m back '' she read; 'then this must on the place ; and after a moment's hesitation she knocked on the door in front of her. 'Come in!' sounded a feeble voice; and Margaret stepped into the room. 6

A poverty-stricken room it was, illuminated only by the dull light which penetrated through a window high up in one corner of the wall. It enabled Margaret, however, to distinguish a figure stretched on a rude bed in the centre of the floor. The young girl caught her breath quickly; it was her first sight of Death; but even her inexperienced eye saw that the Dread Visitant would not long delay his coming. The face was emaciated beyond conception, the eyes deepsunken, while the breath came in gasps from between the parted lips. 'This is Mrs. Gregson, is it not?' Margaret asked gently. ' I heard through Dr. Farrington that you were alone to-day, and came to see if you would not let me stay with you. May I?' 'Who are you?' asked the woman, gazing with mingled wonder and awe into the sweet face above her. 'Of course you may stay, and I will —so grateful. Somehow, I have been so frightenedit was so lonely, and I seemed to see• my whole life ' She ended with a sigh. 'My name is Margaret Clifton,' the girl answered; ' and I am so glad you will let me stay. No wonder you were frightened; it is dreary by one's self, but I am going to bring this chair to the bedside' suiting the action to the word —' and you must promise me to get some rest.'

Margaret started with an instinctive shudder. The woman observed it, and smiled a little bitterly; ‘ You think it impossible that anyone could doubt — God, do you not Are you a Catholic ‘ Yes.’ ‘ So am I —or, rather, so was I,’ the woman continued feebly. ‘ No, it will not hurt me to talk,’ she added, as Margaret attempted to speak. ‘ I cannot live much longer, and my sleep has strengthened me.’ Then, after a pause, ‘I was once — a Catholic,’ she repeated; ‘listen: ‘ I married when I was twenty years old, and went to live with my husband on his farm in Maine. We had a comfortable home, and two childrena boy and a girl. Ten years after my marriage they died, within a week of each other, and that only started my troubles. My husband was never the same -afterwards; he couldn’t bear the house without the children, and so he spent his evenings at the tavern, until he gambled and drank away every cent we had, farm and all, and we had to give up —■ our borne. That brought him to his senses. He reformed, and we raised enough money — take us out west. He got a position as overseer on a sheep ranch, but one month later — was brought home to me dead —killed instantly by the fall of a huge derrick. Then I decided that God had forgotten me, and I made up my mindto forget Him. That was eight years ago, and I have never been — a church —since.’

Talking cheerfully, Margaret moved about the room, the woman's eyes following her gratefully. A few moments later the girl came back to the bedside. ' Drink this,' she said, holding a glass to the dying woman's lips. ' Do, dear,' she urged, 'it will do you so much good,' and, with a visible effort, the woman swallowed the stimulant. ' Thank you,' she said; ' it has made me better already; I think I can sleep now ' ; and, the words still on her lips, Martha Gregson closed her eyes exhaustedly. Three hours passed away. The woman still lay in a sort of a stupor, and Margaret kept her post at the bedside, her thoughts centred on the figure before her. The woman was evidently superior to her surroundings; what was her life-story? Had she been baptised? Could she possibly be a Catholic? Margaret could only speculate. The room grew gradually darker; the snow had ceased falling, but lay banked high upon the narrow window ledge, sending its chilled breath through the apertures into the silent room. Slowly the cold penetrated the heavy wraps the young girl wore, and, shivering, she rose and quietly lit a candle. As she again resumed her watch, however, she found that her patient had aroused, and was gazing at her fixedly. She smiled faintly when Margaret bent over the bedside. 'You have been so good to me,' she said feebly you have made me believe in God — man, again.'

Margaret sat in silence. The words were not eloquent—the poor woman had given hut the merest details; hut the dimly lighted room, the poverty of the surroundings, the long pauses when the dying woman gasped for breath —all lent the story a realistic force the more appealing because so indefinable. Margaret's heart beat in unison with the unhappy woman's before her, and, in that moment, she learned the great lesson of charity—to make allowances for the sins of others. Margaret leaned forward. 'But you are sorry!' she exclaimed impulsively. 'Sorry? Yes? It has haunted me — and night. But it is of no use—when 1 had my chance, I rejected it; and it is too late now.' 'Don't say that!' Margaret cried. 'The thief asked forgiveness on the cross, don't you remember and for a few minutes the young girl spoke words of consolation and hope. 'And now you will see a priest?' she finished eagerly. 'Oh, if I could!' was the whispered reply; 'then I would feel that God has forgiven me —but I will be dead—before one can be gotten.' Margaret thought anxiously for a few minutes. 'ls the church very far away she asked finally. 'About —three squares,' came the answer faintly. Margaret saw the increasing pallor of the face on the pillow, and it decided her. It was the case of a soul's salvation.

'Will you be afraid to remain alone?' she asked. '1 am going for a priest.' The words aroused the woman's failing strength. ' No, no, you must not!' she whispered. 'lt is getting dark—you are not used to the streets at night——' Margaret gently disengaged the clinging hands. 'lt is only six o'clock,' she said. 'I must go; I am not afraid' ; but she trembled a little as she closed the door behind her and stole quietly to the stairway. But suddenly she started and shrank into the shadow of the wall. Two figures were ascending the steps; but as the light from an open doorway fell upon the foremost, Margaret uttered a cry of relief. 'Mr. Norwood! Oh, how you frightened me!' The young man took no notice of her exclamation. 'Miss Clifton—Margaret! what have you thought of me?' ho asked quickly. 'I was insane when I wrote that letter; you should never have come here. Can you ever forgive me?' ' Forgive you ? I can never thank you sufficiently. It has been such a strange experience, and oh, so sad ! ' But I am forgetting! Quick, Mr. Norwood, go for a priest

peace, she motioned for all save the priest to leave the room When they returned absolution had been given, and the Heavenly Visitant was about to descend upon the poor, penitent heart. Ten minutes later, the soul had departed. At the last moment the dying woman had cast upon Margaret a glance of loving gratitude, and with the words: 'lt's going to b- a—happy Christmas—for me,' had closed her eyes, to open them, let us believe, in Heaven. Norwood turned to the figure still kneeling at the bedside. 'Mrs. O'Mara will remain here until morning,' he -.aid. 'She will attend to everything, so you will come with me now ?' Margaret arose, and stooping, pressed her lips to the forehead of the dead woman ; then she took the young man's arm, and together they left the place. Almost in silence they walked through the snowmantled streets—Margaret intent upon the lessons the afternoon experience had taught her ; Norwood with his thoughts fixed upon the young girl beside him. Mingled with the

Mrs. Gregson has consented to see one. Hurry, or you may be too late !' But Mr. Norwood lingered a moment longer. ' This is my old nurse, Mrs. O'Mara,' he said, bringing forward his 'companion. ' She has just reached the city, and instantly agreed to relieve you for the remainder of the night.' You must not stay here any longer; your father would never permit it.' Then, obeying the appeal in Margaret's eyes, he hurried away. When Margaret, accompanied by the old lady, returned to her charge, she saw that a great change had taken place. The unnatural strength, which had sustained her throughout the afternoon, had departed, and she was lying in apparent unconsciousness. ' She is going fast,' Mrs. O'Mara said, taking the limp hand in her own. ' If the priest will only get here in time!' In reality fifteen minutes, it seemed an hour to the two watchers kneeling at the bedside before the door again opened, and Mr. Norwood, accompanied by an aged priest, entered. At that moment, as if by an invisible touch from the hand of her guardian angel, consciousness returned to the patient, and with a look of utter joy and

admiration and love he had felt for her since their first meeting, six months before, had arisen a sort of reverence, as though the halo surrounding the death-bed scene had crowned her with a portion of its own heavenly radiance. The young man remembered the words she had spoken : ' I would like to give to my Saviour a pledge of my love that has been purchased with the coin of self-denial'.' Surely, this were such a gift; and surely, too, the Yuletide would shed upon her its choicest blessings in return. As if in answer to his thought, the shrill, cheery notes of a horn, lustily blown by some lad eager to hasten the morrow, sounded on the air, breaking the spell of silence that had held them. 'A happy Christmas!' Margaret said softly, the echo of the dead woman's last words ringing yet in her ear. But Norwood paused abruptly. ' Margaret,' he said, it can be a happy Christmas for me only if you give me the priceless gift that alone can make me' happy—yourself. Don't you understandis there any hope for me, dear?' Margaret did not speak for a moment; then she turned upon him eyes in which glowed the pure radiance of a young girl's first love. Be happy,' she whispered shyly.— Sacred Heart Review.