The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 23 September 1915, Page 3

The Storyteller

;; ■; : THE'iMED^foP^RAeSife^fi THE MEDAL OF GRACE "Rosalie - Glayton dabbed her eyes with the webbiest excuse for a handkerchief and swallowed a convulsive sob. ‘ Of course/ she said, * I wouldn’t breathe a word • of this to Bobby, n-not that he would mind, but I wouldn’t like him to th-think—that I- thought^that^’ lie- ’ Again the handkerchief was brought . into . ; play. * . I f/gt

Margaret Finn, .although she was plain' and hopelessly unfashionable, was a comforting person. ’Her hat, it must be : admitted, would easily be detected by the critical feminine eye as three seasons I behind ; the times, yet it sat with remarkable trimness on, her neatly coiled hair. - Her clothes ■ showed unmistakable signs of recent, pressing and neat mending , and her shoes we re brushed to a degree :of respectability. " She lived on a simple income and devoted’ her life to charity.. Her schoolmates and T ; former ; associates had - long ago ‘. forgotten her, and she became only a ’ ■ caller ’ ’to a select few.: _. On© of these was ’ Rosalie Clayton; butterfly, gossipy Rosalie Clayton, frequenters of bridge clubs' - and belle Vof the fashionable ; week-ends; who was new weeping because she feared that : Bobby : Clayton, her spouse of three months, : was dissipating his inherited ; wealth at a poker .club arid drowning, his losses in wine. There was. a shade of sympathy •in Margaret’s practical •>■ eyes as she - leaned , forward’ and impulsively pressed • Rosalie’s trembling jewelled fingers/ f ' ‘ V ‘ Have you ever tried a- novena?’ she'asked.' •■■■.■,;■ v, Rosalie looked her embarrassment. --

It. was like Margaret to-ask a disagreeable question in a natural manner. Margaret, however, did not wait for her to v reply. , She opened her shabby leather bag, and fumbling for a -few seconds brought forth a little medal of the Immaculate Conception and held it up to Rosalie’s uncomprehending- eyes. ’ •; ■ 0\- v ‘ This is the Blessed Virgin’s medal. : You remember, Rosalie, we wore them at school. Pin it on Bob’s coat, and I will make a novena for the wearer.’

Rosalie kissed her effusively. * You are a perfect dear,’ she ■ exclaimed; apologetically; ‘I could make one, too, but you know I am so busy . I never Have time to think of such things.* Not that I don’t /be- 4 lieve", Margaret, but other people won’t, and they think you are such a fool !’ If I could only tell you . some of the things I hear 'and see —■ , She -drew, her words •;. out with a little gasp. She did not add, however,’ that she thought . novenas 'mediaeval, belonging to “a /; darkened age. . Her grief, sincere while it lasted, was already evaporating beneath the sunny glow of ' Margaret’s sympathy, and she turned to her mirror in an endeavor to remove the -traces of tears with a • little ' dust of powder. The Claytons were Catholics in on© sense of the word. " They had a seat in their parish church. They went dutifully to confession arid to Communion twice >a year, at Christmas and .Eastertide. They attended Mass on Sunday,, and although*. they lived only a short distance frpm the church and made • great haste, they were seldom on time. -’Nevertheless; they ’ always got in before the Epistle and left before , the last prayers. This constituted their whole duty, they thought, and they were quite satisfied that they met it in the proper spirit; But novenas ! - Rosalie took the little medal from Margaret’s hand ■ and, holding it up, laughed scornfully. ; " ‘lf some of Bobby’s friends knew that he was wearing this!’ ; , , ’ . ’ ./ -• Margaret Finn sighed and rose to r go. ... ■/;; * Never mind,’ and she patted the plump white arm. ‘ His friends won’t know it.’ Vu; : . A few minutes later she was walking briskly down: ; the avenue to her head-quarters, a day nursery in the tenement district. When /Margaret was, gone Rosalia ; fingered the little medal and turned it idly j over. -: Somehow it -lost in interest''/without’' Margaret’s enthusi-

a*tjc..presence. Nevertheless* Rosalie started towards •j Bob’s cupboard. The’bell rang. With an impatient she opened the cupboard door,- pinned the' meda| on the first coat that met her view,, and- with a guilty feeling, hastily closed it, just? as .the maid . . entered with some cards. The hairdresser .and•,mamcure followed. Soon the little i;table ; near 5 her chair j was , converted. into ~ a miniature • drug shop; •; powders, . . perfumes, cosmetics, whatnot. During the-* next hour f 4: - she submitted to the deft fingering of her masseuse and ; ir - hairdresser. ;. After; thaty she H forgot - all r? about . the -; v ‘ medal of grace.’ , . ; -.c. ‘ Tinkle,: tinkle,’ came the telephone bell, and. a / v refreshed-: Rosalie picked up the receiver. ' V . ‘lt is only me, dear,’ came a gushy throaty voice. >■ Can’t you;come over V v;" -V.: .. / , - - Rosalie, intimated that she could, - and ; the next . V instant /she had seized a rough tweed coat from the " hands of her maid, and slipped into its fleecy - depths. Soon she was priding over ; the smoothly paved avenue. / She was hastening to her friend In fashionable society, Isabelle . Lawrence. Isabelle wanted her for only two ~ things; to tell a bit of important gossip or to hear some. t ; This and . this alone would rouse her : from her bed .at 10 in the morning. Rosalie, settled comfortably in her cushioned .seat, gave way to serious thought. \ Isabelle Lawrence was not only a new friend; but ' she was a very rich one. Her wealth, her home, and > her extravagant gowns placed her several degrees higher than. Rosalie on, their narrow social plane. Rosalie.; found herself at times : unconsciously planning how - to impress Isabelle. Of course, Rosalie did not admit this, even to herself, but : she recognised in Q. Isabelle some one different from her iother, acquaintances. ’ - Isabelle, it might be remarked in passing, had the same feelings for Rosalie. At present, she '.was. . waiting "for her guest at the foot of their stairway. She had . ’phoned for Rosalie to discuss with her the prices of velvet at Maley’s emporium, and incidentally to find out if r the Harrisons, new arrivals in the neighborhood, were as rich as -reputed. Also if r it were ' true that Jack Harrison had eloped with his father’s stenographer the week before and brought her home in a taxi to his-enraged parent, who closed the door on them after- refusing in plain terms to pay the bill, thus leaving, poor Jack in a quandary. Isabelle also viewed with candid vanity a diamond solitaire on the telltale finger. Rosalie she had decided would be the first ‘to know.’ . ' , . At length the horn tooted, there came a grinding of wheels, and Rosalie was in her arms. There a ' slightly embarrassed hug as Rosalie slipped from her coat, and Isabelle, with the bulky garment in her arms, followed her chattering guest up the stairs. She admired Rosalie —her glowing face —her breezy manner. She admired the rough tweed wrap with its fuzzy lining. Somehow it suited Rosalie. Twisting it over her arm, the collar fell back, and she saw —a medal of the Im-

maculate Conception. - It is only justice to Isabelle to say that she' gasped. She gazed at the graceful figure ahead and felt a rising esteem for her -unconscious guest. Rosalie Clayton was not only a Catholic, but she wore a little medal of the Immaculate Conception and wore it daily ! Isa-belle-had been pious. , She was only twenty-three now, and piety in her circle had long been out of fashion. v It seemed to take her back to the .days, of pigtails and ankle-length skirts. This little medal threw a glamor about Rosalie. When they reached; her room, Isabelle, :: in a fit of penitence and reparation, lifted the Sacred Heart •cameo' that had always lain face downward on her dressing to a standing position. She would _ never be - ashamed to show it again never-never. /weet Rosalie Clayton had taught her a lesson., ' Near the picture was an invitation to a retreat that was to be ,held at some convent. It had lain unanswered for thrtee weeks, but now Isabelle picked it up and opened it slowly. She felt that it would be out of place to begin talking about the Harrisons. Rosalie had her hat and, perched on the arm of a chintz-covered chair, was stripping her fingers of her gloves. - . *V :-i ■- - •■/ ° ■ • . , ■' ■ • - ' . ' I__l

.|p|r Have:yah; made a; retreat lately// Rosalie?’ asked Isabelle; 1 ' p'-srU,'■ v jJ-':' ' K Rosalie flushed and stared at Isabelles in amaze.ment. Retreat? ; Her thoughts worked, rapidly. If * Isabelle Lawrence mad© retreats, then retreats must be ' the thing, ’and to be socially correct one must always do ‘the thing.’ ‘The thing ’ was the thing to do. : ; Her glance travelled from Isabelle’s inquiring face to if the Sacred -Heart Cameo ; on the dressing-table. rThere >r is always something / appealing ; in 4 a Sacred Heart picture — . meekly f bowed . head, the"tender eyes. •• So >;; -- Isabelle; was really.: pious.!. /. That was the attraction. " That was the kind of r a girl/ she was. 1 Rosalie /found - Herself with an overwhelming respect for piety. She did ; not answer •at once. - Isabelle, mistaking her manner, repeated her question more firmly. . ‘ N-not very lately,’ replied Rosalie. Have you?’ -It was Isabelle’s turn to flush,' and their eyes, met ; . for a fleet second in measured doubt. < Each fwished/. with shame, that she .had> made r a retreat, lately, each equally felt that she could never, admit that-she . . had not. ;/■■-./; "■

‘ You see, I didn’t make one last year,’ confessed Rosalie, with a little deprecatory laugh, secretly elated that she had turned the . point neatly, truthfully / and without embarrassment to herself. .

And Isabelle, bending confidentially forward, whispered with a nervous little giggle: ‘ I didn’t make on© last year, either. Isn’t it awful !. r . Of course, we will both make up for it this year.’ • /•//"/ , / ‘Of course!’ echoed Rosalie, emphatically. ; . So they began a strange conversation, these two whose religion was not rooted deeply, although the seeds • were there, sown in . early childhood. - They' chatted, spiritedly yet guardedly, on all the religious topics of the day. Rosalie inwardly blessed Margaret Finn and ; her day nursery was such an absorbing thing to talk about—and Isabelle repeated, word for word, a little story she had heard at Mass. She had listened to the story because she had • to, - silently fuming because the priest told it at Mass and with all his accustomed mannerisms and long . pauses. .. Now she strove to remember the tale and unconsciously adopted the teller’s voice and style in her endeavor to bring , out the point. They grew really enthusiastic over the retreat. Before the short half-hour was over

they had both made their plans. Then came the real news, told without blushes— for Isabelle belonged to a class where blushing was a past art—yet shyly for all that.

When Rosalie entered her car, homeward bound, she decided to buy a cameo of the Sacred Heart. ‘lt would be painted in colors and would stand upright on her dressing table. She stopped at the first store that sold religious articles and made her purchase. The store was near a church. What was more natural than to stop at the church and pay a visit to the Sacred Heart ‘ in real substance ? Gay Rosalie Clayton found to her delight that it was not so difficult to pray. An hour slipped by and still she knelt, her head bowed low — her heart with God. - She reached home full of a peace she had/ not felt for many a day. " Bobby .was home before, her. He was lying on the lounge in their sit-ting-room, his eyes blurred, his breathing heavy. Rosalie’s heart sank as she saw him, and - her peace fled. In her imagination the future spread in dark pictures: Bobby a disgraced drunkard and an outcast; she dependent. /■ These thoughts had a depressing effect, and, removing her wraps, she dropped into a low chair and wept unrestrainedly, while Bobby, now awakened, gazed at her in dismay. ~ : ' - ' After her tears came indignation and scorn. ‘ In scathing tones Rosalie assailed her erring, spouse, whose dismay fast changed to bewilderment. Rosalie’s scornful words failed to pierce Bobby’s befuddled brain. He felt a drowsiness creeping over him. He .heard two or i perhaps three /unintelligible sentences, / and, nodding his head, he slept again. In - sorrow/. Rosalie gazed at the sleeping form, and with motherly solicitude, in spite of her hurt, she covered him over with her warm - coat, and, drawing the blinds, - withdrew from the -room. And Bobby Clayton, sleeping, dreamed.

Y wviutou.l t/uo viuu, wmcn was always alluring, seemed •. unattractive. : .He stood outside i the door and, " idly twirling his cane, reflected. Perhaps the three hundred he had lost the night before in the little room ?. ;on the; third floor rear caused his depression. Yet, > thought he^lby• returning % now While his brain was clear be might get it back, and; morebut the risk: was great, : ! too great t with ;Rote-lie |tobe ‘ considered!.! He wandered W down the ; steps and to the park. It was very early in ' the -morning., . : The birds were ■ just beginning ; their ; first V: : shrill : chirps : and the sun shed ! its yellow rays - through - the trees. The busy 'city had not yet awakened. T e air was pure, and all was ,quiet; The park was, deserted, ; except for those homeless ones” who rested nightly bn' ' ; its benches until , the iceman ,gruff, voice or the sun’s T bright rays sent 1 them slouching away. Breathing ! deeply and -still undecided on : his chances of - regaining . s his lost money, Bobby continued his stroll. . O a broken f : bench, removed from , the park proper and partly hid- -• den from the road. by shrubbery ; was a man. He was ; lying face downward on .the bench, as though fallen in a; drunken stupor. His whole . appearance was repul- - sive, the position of his body so ill-covered A , the condi- - tion of his clothing so fagged, and dirty, his limp, shaggy head of hair 7 and crinkled yellow skin so indicative of his sordid life that Bobby Clayton; averted; his head. ■ Yet he turned, half-fascinated, and studied the 7 beggar. ~ Then the figure stirred, there was a shifting ; of the ragged body, a slow raising of the shaggy head, ‘ • and; Bobby Clayton with a shock of horror found him- >■ self gazing into his own face. There was no mistaking 5 it. -j It was he.' His familiar • eyes looking v from - the ■ wrinkled lids, although the clothes, the skin, the hair, and the brutish lowering, expression on the beggar’s face, cried out against it. , But there was no doubting , the- person.: It was himself. " . - y ; . .The agony of the ■ moment , woke f him. and he sat , up. He felt dazed. He was perspiring freely,'and for one stupefying instant he was glad -wonderfully glad and thankful-— that lie had been dreaming. In spite of the fleecy coat he was shivering as one with the ague. He drew the wrap close about .him and saw just be;neath the collar the little medal of the Immaculate Conception. . r®* ‘Why—Rosalie!’ he gasped, brokenly, ‘I never knew ! ’ and bending his head forward, he buried his face, with eyes that were wet, beneath the collar of a fuzzy coat. '■ ■;'vXi-;7 r > .. . The next minutes were wonderful minutes in the life of a soul:" They saw a change. They lifted the mist from the eyes of , a man who was standing on a precipice. They carried to heaven a guardian angel’s prayer of thanksgiving. . ■ Upstairs! in her room Rosalie was unwrapping a brightly colored cameo and placing it upright on her dressing-table. In another portion of the town a vain gitl was writing a letter to some old nuns that would bring joy to their motherly hearts. And in a' free day nursery : a charity worker was saying her beads and thinking of the ‘ medal of grace.’ ■ —■■ 5 »