ONE IN A THOUSAND

New Zealand Tablet, 14 September 1911, Page 1781

ONE IN A THOUSAND

Elizabeth Milligan felt she was pretty near sick of it. Ordinarily she was a sweet, unsuspecting little woman, but when one has a next-door neighbor given to prying and gossiping, one is likely to feel at first a little resentful, and later imagine that perhaps the neighbor is right, after all. Whether Miss Jessica was right or not, it was now almost 7 o'clock, and Maurice had not reached home yet. Elizabeth had been to the door about a score of times, and was now moving restlessly between the dining-room and hall, straining her ears for Maurice's step. She could not dare open the door again, for every time she did the muslin curtains next door went back a few inches, revealing an ugly face with a sardonic smile. Indeed, Miss Jessica had won for herself a reputation that was by no means enviable. She was the worst gossiper in the neighborhood, which delectable title was accorded her by the entire community. She knew everybody's business on her own street, and the various avenues, branching thereof did not escape her eagle eye. She knew that Mrs. Sullivan got a new red carpet for her dining-room (weekly payments, no doubt); that the bailiff had paid a surreptitious: visit to the McCarroll household, although by some hook or crook the matter had been amicably settled. (Miss Jessica concluded that Pat McCarroll had borrowed the wherewithal to pay the rent, though who on earth could have been foolish enough to lend it she could not for the life of her make out; for herself, she eschewed all such foolish habits as lending, although she did not scruple at borrowing a cup of sugar from an easy-look-ing neighbor, and, of course, such trifles could not be returned.) She knew Pauline O'Meara's mother put out the untidiest washing in the block, and that the Maguires ate off an oilcloth, except when company came. Yet the good lady had never been in one of her neighbor's houses, for instinctively they avoided her and nipped her advances in the bud. Nevertheless she found out, and her post of vantage behind the aforesaid coinspot muslin curtains afforded her many tangible proofs of her neighbor's errors and discrepancies. It was from there she reached her conclusions about the Milligans. She had noted their moving in, the dainty furniture, and the care with which it was carried into the house; and hence conclusion No. I—they were a newly-married couple. And with hungry eyes she watched Elizabeth waiting every night at the gate for Maurice. And he always came just in time, /with a smile on his handsome face, and kissed her unblushingly before them all. They would go in, hand in hand, laughing like two children over the events. of the day. They accompanied each other everywhere except on Sunday, and Miss Jessica was not long in finding out that Maurice Milligan was not a Catholic. Elizabeth was, to be sure, for Miss Jessica had listened Sunday after Sunday to the young wife's sweet voice in the choir. ' : -' ■■-'■ ;■ -v- > ; ; For a long time Miss Jessica watched from behind her curtains, and all went well in. the Milligan household. But at last her vigilance was rewarded, for one. evening Maurice Milligan came home late. : True, he wore a happy smile and bounded up the steps three at" a time to meet Elizabeth, whose eyes were full of unshed tears. Miss Jessica watched with all-seeing and albeit spiteful eyes as they went into the dining-room together

and she wondered if the, husband gave a satisfactory explanation for his tardiness. She peered furtively through the curtains. They were laughing happily as Elizabeth; poured the coffee —rich, creamy coffee, whose fragrance she could almost scentand with a sigh she turned away to her own frugal supper of bread and butter and weak tea; for Miss Jessica was miserably stingy, penurious to a fault, and she hated to see the almost lavish manner in which the Milligans lived. And after that it became'a customary thing for the husband to come home late, and a rumor, first lowvoiced, then insistent, began to flood about the neighborhood—Maurice Milligan was frequenting saloons. Not that anybody had ever actually seen him near a bar-room, but then, reasoned Miss Jessica, what else could keep him late? All men were alike, and the garish bar-room could attract the best of them. Elizabeth seemed to be taking it to heart, too, but the neighbors were sure she never upbraided him. In fact, when he came home late, with his fine face all aglow and his handsome eyes full of fire, Elizabeth's dimples came and went and she looked so happy, but Miss Jessica liked to see her better with her dark eyes full of pain as she watched at the hall door for the delinquent one. And -to-night seemed the culminating point to her and to Elizabeth, too. ■ The latter was on the verge of a collapse. It was half-past seven, and no Maurice. She had been to the front door until she could no longer bear the triumphant glance of her neighbor. She had heard rumors of what was circulating, and to-night she determined to put a stop to it all and demand an explanation. After this decision she set to work to make the table extra inviting (for Elizabeth loved her husband and her home), and when she finished it, it was.exceedingly pretty, with its carefully arranged bouquet and all the dainty silver and chinachiefly wedding presentsand she hummed happily to herself as she thought of Maurice's almost boyish delight. But the striking of the clock recalled her from her reverie! Eight o'clock and no Maurice! And then commenced her vigil, her incessant wandering to the front door, with the knowledge that Miss Jessica was at her post, sneering and malignant. She picked up a" book and tried to read, but in vain. She rearranged the flowers; she shifted the silver about uneasily on the table. Oh, it was awful, this waiting, this suspense! She could hear her brother Jack (who had arrived from the south the evening before for his holidays) moving about upstairs and humming a tune merrily to himself. It was heartrending to think that Jack should be there to witness her humiliation and her grief. They all thought her so happy at home. Stumbling steps were heard without on the street. Breathless, she ran to the door. What if it wereoh, banish the thought! She looked out and saw a neighbor stumbling past on his way home. She shuddered and drew back, while a wave of pity for the stumbler's patient wife flashed over her. And yet people were talking about Maurice and perhaps even now pitying her. She almost cried aloud in her agony. A quick exclamation of delight broke in upon her. 'Oh, Bess, how jolly! What's the feast for?' It was Jack's voice. He had evidently tired of his whistling and the delay. He turned her around sharply, letting the light fall full upon her face. ' What on earth's the matter?' ; ' Maurice !' she sobbed. Jack gave vent to a prolonged whistle. ' Say, Bessie, tell me all about it. And if that fellow isn't good to our Bess, home we go to the south on the spot. Understand?' But no explanations were forthcoming, for with the musical striking of the clock Maurice bounded up the steps and into the house. Already he was in the dining-room, alert, smiling, and happy. 'Sorry to have kept you, Bess,' he began, and then came to a sudden stop. The atmosphere was frigid. have been keeping a secret from you, just imagine, a great big secret, too. Can't you guess W|hat it is, Bess ?' Elizabeth straightened up visibly and wiped away her tears./ ,

'I wanted so much to surprise you, but I won't keep you in suspense any longer, dear. I have been taking instructions after office hours every evening from Father Connolly, and to-night I made my first confession. lam now a Catholic, To-morrow, the First Friday, we will receive Holy Communion together, dear, and will it not be a grand closing to your Nine Fridays? But it has been an awful struggle. At times I felt I would be conquered. All the doubts, all the tales t of my childhood rose before me like wraiths of the past, beckoning me back the way I had come, throwing obstacles in my path, telling me 1 was insane. Oh, Bess, it was awful!' Maurice Milligan bowed his face upon his hands. A silence almost painful in its intensity fell upon the group. Jack was thinking how pleased his mother would be, and Father Cummings, and — ' an old fossil' Miss Jessica was, anyway ! While Besswith her it was a grief that she had not known in order to have aided Maurice in his struggle. And then Bess was sobbing. ' And I—l—doubted f you, Maurice, for Miss Jessica said ' ' Doubted me V he exclaimed in much surprise. ' Doubted your husband ? Why, Bessie Milligan, you deserve to —kissed.' With a glad cry she went towards him, and he gathered her, half weeping, half laughing, in his arms. Jack turned away and discreetly busied himself with drawing, the shades. Catching sight of Miss Jessica peering through at them, he struck a theatrical attitude and for a full three minutes declaimed voluably, the text of his harangue being ' The mote in thy brother's eye and the beam in thine own.' Maurice laughed heartily while Elizabeth hastened to add that since the mote had been extracted from Maurice's eye, they must see what they could do towards removing that commodity from Miss Jessica's. Lor' bless you, honey,' came a voice from the doorit was Aunt Chlo, their old Southern servant—'Lor' bless you all, 'tain't no mote in Miss Jessica's eye, but a beam as wide as—as —the beam that comes in through, the window over the Cathedral altar, and it's filled- with motes, and motes, 'and motes, and motes—— '■. ~ ••■■'•■'• r"V ... The voice of the colored servant trailed away down with her footsteps to the kitchen below, from which region arose savory and delicious odors. And, laughing happily, they all drew their chairs up to the table and waited. 3 / . —Messenger of the Sacred Heart.