The Angel of the Portico brtstmas Eve Story

New Zealand Tablet, 18 December 1913, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Angel of the Portico brtstmas Eve Story

GLORIA IN EXCELSIS Tis Christmas night! Again— But not from heaven to earth— Rings forth the old refrain ' A. Saviour's Birth!' Nay, listen : 'tis below ! A song that soars above, From human hearts aglow With heavenly love! -liev. John B. Tabb.

A-S a concession to the presence of her son’s guest Mrs. Lawrence had permitted candles under crimson shades on her dinner table, although her inclination was for a marked simplicity that would emphasise in a seemly manner the difference between a fast day and tho great feast day that would follow. . But that was not the concession that was pricking her conscience as it had pricked it uncomfortably many times before. She had solved her little problem according to that blessed formula of the weak, ‘ of two evils choose the lesser,’ not venturing on the more heroic canon, ‘of two evils choose neither.’ The problem was, should she provide a meat dinner for her only son and idol on Fridays and fast days, and thus give herself the bliss of his company, or should she hold rigidly to fish and drive him to a hotel or his club

The larger problem as to how the scion of families immemorially Catholic, brought up by a devout mother and educated in the most renowned of Catholic schools, had descended to the point of demanding the meat, was one quite beyond her mere woman’s wit to solve. It was Christmas Eve, and Reginald Lawton, hurrying across the continent from San Francisco to New York, intent on reaching his own fireside for Christmas, had been detained by a snowdrift in Colorado and had arrived in St. Louis in the middle of the afternoon. Young Lawton was a philosopher in his way, and since he could not have what he wanted, the next best thing was to eniov what he could get. After making himself comfortable at the Southern Hotel, he telephoned the news of his presence to his old friend, Conde Lawrence, with the result that at 7 o’clock that-evening he was giving his arm to his friend’s mother, Mrs. Emily Lawrence, a charming white-haired gentlewoman, to take her in to dinner. Condo Lawrence, three-fourths French and onefourth Virginian, was a slenderly built, graceful young man of thirty, dark, with finely-cut features, deep-set eyes, and a black military moustache, who looked in evening dress not unlike the portraits of his ancestors. The type was well marked, and his mother secretly regarded it as a tribute to herself that -he resembled her side of the house rather than the Lawrences. At Conde’s right sat Louise Egan, of Philadelphia, a tall, slender girl with blue eyes and a mass of pale gold hair; his two sisters, Josephine and Marie, both older than himself, and dubbed old maids by the malicious, made up, the little circle. Marie was pious. .Josephine was accomplishedlanguages, music, and water colorsthe things marked extras in the convent catalogues. As their father had died when they were

children and left them each a fortune, they had grown up with the dread, instilled by their mother, of being married for their money. It was a disappointment to Mrs. Lawrence that they had not married at all, although it seemed nothing of the sort to themselves. They still received proposals. Louise Egan was the daughter of Mrs. Lawrence’s most intimate girlhood friend, and when she came to spend the winter in St. Louis, Mrs. Lawrence secretly hoped that the Philadelphian would remain always as Conde’s wife. Happily married to a charming and beautiful girl, Conde would give up his bachelor’s ways, including meat on Fridays, and continue the conservative traditions of his family. Whether Mrs. Egan would be equally pleased with the match was another question; probably she would, for why were charming and pious girls created if not to be the wives of well-born and rich young men who were not pious?’

It was all very puzzling, of course, but, then, men were different from women, and surely the dear Lord never meant them to say their prayers and bother over fast days when they were young! True, the catechisms did not say so, and Thomas a’Kempis was most disquieting in places, but everything would be all

right in time. For when Conde was lying at the point of death a few years back, had she not promised a marble altar if our Lady would not let him die without the Sacraments ? And not only had he received the Sacraments, but ho had actually got well, despite the verdict of six famous doctors. Truly, prayer could work miracles ! The poor mother admitted reluctantly that as health and strength advanced piety receded, until now several years had gone by since Conde Lawrence knelt at the altar railing, although he occasionally went to Mass. So at dinner on Christmas Eve meat was served to the young men and fish to the four ladies. After dinner Conde made graceful apologies to his mother for taking his guest away, murmuring something not very definite about limited time and a new play at the Century Theatre. Louise Egan received his excuses rather haughtily, and somehow made him feel that he was showing a vulgar taste in deserting the yule log, sacred for ages to family affection, for an amusement that any homeless waif with a few dollars could buy. Louise had the courage of her convictions, and Conde Lawrence was by no means the only man in her orbit of vision.

The pair threw themselves into a waiting cab, and Condo breathed relief from the silently accusing consciences left behind. As they turned a corner a church brilliantly lighted confronted them. ‘ Oh, I didn’t know that any denomination held service on Christmas Eve!’ exclaimed Lawton. ‘What kind of church is that?’

It is a Catholic church,’ answered Lawrence, ' and they are not having what you would call a service exactly. The church is lighted because the people you see passing in are going to confession. I used to go to confession here myself when I was a little chap.’ ‘ I fancy you need it now much more than you did then,’ returned Lawton. ‘Shall we go in? I’ll help you examine your conscience with the greatest pleasure. I suppose the good Father wouldn’t give absolution to a heretic like me for a hundred dollars?’ ‘ He wouldn’t give it to you for a billion—don’t talk tommy rot!’ and the cab whirled onward, crunching the white snow under its rubber-tired wheels.

At 3 o’clock on Christmas morning Conde Lawrence alighted from an ‘ owl car ’ and turned towards his home. Ho was tired and jaded, and the taste of dead sea fruit was on his lips. After the theatre he

had gone with his friend to Larry Owen’s place in the suburbs, where congenial spirits were wont to assemble and play cards for high stakes, supping luxuriously at the expense of the house. Lawrence had played recklessly, and come out somewhat the winner, but still he asked himself if the game was quite worth the candle. And pondering the question, he again approached the church. Now it was closed and dark and half-ghostly in the stillness, the Christmas moon flooding its twin steeples in a silver glory, leaving the long line of painted windows in. shadow.

r 'Christmas morning!' lie murmured, and a vision of the shepherds that had kept watch in Judea brought back memories of his boyhood. As Lawrence drew nearer to the church he was startled to see a figure reclining against one of the massive pillars of the portico. ' Some poor wretch crazy drunk and freezing to death/ he said to himself, hastening towards the silent form. But it was a boy's form, and .a boy's innocent, big blue eyes that looked up sleepily into his own. ' What are you doing here, my '-*d ? You'll freeze,'

The youth jumped to his feet, raising his cap in salute.

I am an altar boy, and I came for the 5 o’clock Mass. 1 didn’t know the time; some one had taken the alarm clock from my room, and I didn’t like to wake my mother, and io looked so bright outside I thought it must be nearly time, so I just dressed and came over to the church. Is it nearly 5 o’clock ‘lt is just 3. I live around the comer. You must come home with me.’ And, silencing the boy’s protests, Lawrence took him by the arm and marched vigorously down the silent street

‘And what is your name?’ he asked presently. ‘ Ted Ryan, sir. My brother Francis is bookkeeper in Mr. rent’s office. I have seen you there. You are Mr. Lawrence.’ ‘Yes. And so you are young Ryan’s little brother. Mr. Trent thinks very highly of your brother.’ Thank you. My brother’s a brick, I can tell you.’

' And youl suppose you are still in school?’ ‘Yes, sir. The Jesuit College.’ Ah! I was a Jesuit boy myself a good many years ago.’ Reaching the stately Lawrence mansion, the young man opened the door with a latchkey and drew the shivering lad inside the warm hall. He led the way

up the stairs to his own quarters on the third floor, and going to a cabinet poured out a glass of liquor. ‘ Here, Ted, drink this. You are all in a shiver.’ But the lad drew back horrified. ‘ I can’t break my fast, sir. lam going to Holy Communion,’ ‘I forgot!’ murmured the young man contritely. ‘ Well, then, stretch yourself on the couch. Bull that

fur rug over you and take a nap.’ 1 am airaid 1 should oversleep myself. 1 must bo at the church before 5 o’clock.’

‘ Never fear; i’ll wake you in plenty of time.’ ‘But you must be sleepy yourself,’ objected the boy. Now, not another word. Go to sleep and try to get warm. You were pretty near to spending Christinas with the angels. i shouldn’t advise you to nap in church porticos on Christmas morning as an annual practice.’

At 5 o’clock the big church was a blaze of light, its radiance reaching out into the snow-covered street’ the altars softly brilliant with hundreds of wax candles and masses of greenery and cut flowers. Throngs of worshippers filled the edifice, and as the last bell was ringing, Mrs. Lawrence trailed down the middle aisle to the family pew. It already had an occupant. Conde Lawrence was there, and on his knees. Mrs. Lawrence bowed her head and happy tears, .ears of thanksgiving, blotted out the sight of the cor of altar boys filing into the sanctuary. Later in the day when Conde asked Louise Egan to his wife the proud young beauty said that slm would —under certain conditions. ' I’ll never marry any man who hasn’t force of character enough to live up to what he believes,’ she declared.

‘Your strength shall be the strength for two, answered Lawrence.

And Ted Ryan on the day after Christmas received the most glorious present that his boy’s hearthad ever dared to wish for —a beautiful gold watch and chain, with Christmas greetings from Conde Lawrence. f h olio Advance.