The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 1 June 1916, Page 3

The Storyteller

BESSIE’S AUNT ‘ Come, dear child, and without delay if possible on the steamer which sails on the 29th. 1 have friends sailing on that date and they will take good care of you. I have written asking them to take you under their protection, and 1 am. sending you a cheque sufficient x think to cover your expenses until you reach me.’ Bessie just hugged the letter, and read it again and again, it meant so much to her it meant that the dream of her life was about to be realised, that a, way was actually opened for her to go to Europe ! The letter was from her Aunt Susan, who lived in Venice, and she had only just received it. It ran as follows: ‘ I am wretchedly lonely, and shall be eternally grateful if you come. "Sou will disembark at Genoa, and then come right on to me at Venice, stopping over at Milan to take a peep at its splendid cathedral if you feel so disposed. The room I have prepared for you looks out on the Grand Canal, and commands a view truly ideal and Venetian.’ Bessie read over this part in a sort of ecstasy, and it seemed long to wait until papa came in, to get his consent, and write her delighted acceptance. She was an artist, and had longed to see Italy, the dreamland. Up to the present it had been quite out of the question, for her father was a literary genius, but not a money-making one, and Bessie was the oldest of seven motherless children. Aunt Susan was the widow of his brother, Philip Langhorne, a man who had amassed an enormous fortune ; everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. A few years before, he had died quite suddenly, leaving his entire fortune to his wife, the writer of the above letter. “•

They had no children, but since her husband’s death Mrs. Langhorne had adopted conditionally a niece of her own. This latter had offended her deeply by marrying without her consent a young Italian officer who had nothing to recommend him but his good looks.

Bessie easily obtained her father’s consent, and within a week of receiving the invitation her letter of acceptance was duly despatched, and she was booked to sail.

What a busy week it was —so many visits to receive, so many calls to make, and so many long talks with her darling chum Lottie Hollis. Lottie’s brother, too, had to come back and forth a great many times with messages from his sister. Bessie had known Harry since they were children, they had always been very good friends, he was now just twenty-one and Bessie eighteen. Those last few days he had acted so oddly, that she didn’t know what to make of it; he was so constrained and unlike himself : she did not guess that he had something to say, and lacked the courage to say it.

Bessie had a grand send-off ; she herself looked sweet as usual, her travelling costume was most becom—Mrs. Langhorne had expressly stipulated for this when writing, and added a P.S., saying: ‘don’t come to me looking like a poke.’ Bessie couldn’t if she tried: her lovely laughing eyes, saucy little nose, and perfect mouth did not need the stylish monster hat so jauntily poised on her golden hair, to make her look ravishing. Saying ‘ good-bye ’ -was hard on Harry, very hard, and when the great ship moved out and he waved his hat adieu to his vanishing love, despair was in his face. Had he been able meanwhile to get a peep at Bessie’s face, he would have been comforted at sight of the tears which were there.'

* Poor Harry,’ she thought, he did seem to feel actually bad, and I never even dreamed of such a thing as his caring for me, but I see he really does.’ She never dreamed either how much she cared for him, but the fact was she really did. ■

It was strange how many things kept coming into her mind now : only about a month before she had had a long talk with Harry, in which he had said: ‘ Bessie, when I marry, you know, I shall have to begin life in a very small way, a four-roomed flat very likely.’ ‘Oh, Harry, do you think that hard,’ she had replied, ‘ what could be more ideal than Jenny Scott’s flat ? I shall never forget the fun we had unpacking her -wedding presents, with Tom helping. We had to put most of them back in the boxes again; there wasn’t a place to set them out. © Jenny didn’t care, apd said it was well to have something laid away for one’s old age ; she was so happy, that tiny home seemed to me perfection, “Love in a cottage” was nothing to it.’ ‘ Did-you really think that, Bessie?’ said Harry. * Yes, I quite agreed with Tom when he told me their happiness seemed too much; not like real life, adding in his funny way ‘and that is why we put up in a doll’s house, you know.” ’ What hop© Bessie’s words had given Harry! and yet at the time she had uttered them so unthinkingly —she had known him so long it seemed quit© natural that he should speak to her of his future hopes and prospects; that she was the principal-figure in them had not dawned upon her until now. And yet as she looked back it had indeed been all but a proposal—and then those red red roses he had brought to the steamer for herand the delightful anticipation of her European- trip paled a little as she realised that she was sailing' away from love and happinessleaving them behind her.

‘ How pensive we are,’ said Baron von Steinbelt-to our little heroine, who, rolled up in rugs, was reclining in her steamer-chair, placed in the best position on deck. This was owing to the Baron’s foresight;- she had been introduced to him by her aunt’s friends the first day out, and he had made her his special care ever since. As for them poor dames, they had simply disappeared; victims both of sea-sickness in its direst form —they had deck cabins, and they stayed in them. ‘ How pensive we are ! I wonder now what you are thinking about your triumphs in Newport last summer, doubtless?’

‘ln Newport, Baron ? I never, go to Newport !’ * Never go to Newport!’ exclaimed the Baron with unfeigned surprise, ‘ I thought everybody went to Newport.’ ‘ Oh, well, I suppose they do,’ answered Bessie, * that is, everybody who is anybody; or, in other words, everybody who is a millionaire. But everybody is not a millionaire !’

‘ On, how nice,’ said the Baron. ‘ I hate millionaires, and millionairesses still more. You are an American who is not a millionaire, and I am a nobleman - who is not for sale. Each an exception to a rule. Think how dreadful it is to have a wife who bought you ! Now, I have a young friend, a handsome fellow, too, who leads a most hen-pecked life, and when I asked him why he submits,-he replied: “ Oh, you know I can’t say anything; she bought me—and at a pretty good price, too. She is not altogether wrong in thinking I belong to her.” Now, when I have a wife I intend that she shall belong to me, and if any buying is to be done I am the one to do it, and I can afford it!’ ‘What a pity I am not for sale,’ said Bessie, laughing heartily, ‘ but I am afraid that I should come awfully high !’ - ‘ Oh, as to that,’ said the Baron, assuming a more serious tone, * I can go pretty high.’ ‘Now I begin to understand,’ said Bessie, ‘what I have so often been told, that you Europeans believe that we Americans are all either possessed of millions, or occupied in the pursuit of them. I tell you you do not know the best side, of us; you who only go to Newport. If you come to New York again I will give you a peep into its real life, and invite you to call on me when I am married and settled in a Lilliputian flat.’ v .

‘ Oh, Mademoiselle quel horreur!’ exclaimed the Baron, bursting into French. * You wouldn’t do that.’

‘ Mais pourquoi pas?' said . Bessie, eaual to the occasion. , / ■ • ■ ‘ Because Mademoiselle would grace a higher position.’ „ * Ah, I can see, Baron, the millionaires are your ideals after all.’

1 Pas du tout. Mademoiselle; you do not under-, stand ; it is not their position to which I object, it is themselves, who so rarely grace it.’ ‘Now I understand,’ said she laughingly, ‘but, dear me, we are nearing the Azores, where our steamer is to touch, and I have to get all my picture-cards ready for the mail.’ Thus abruptly their conversation ended, one of many daily renewed. Four days later Bessie was again occupied with her correspondence, this time to be mailed from Gibraltar, which they were rapidly approaching. * Dearest Lottie,’ She writes, ‘ how I wish you were with me, seeing and enjoying all that I am seeing and enjoying. To-day, only think of it, our eyes are feasting on two continents. Early this morning “darkest Africa ” came into sight. As I peeped out of my state-room window just at dawn there it was; but looking like a land of light, illumined as it was with the first golden rays of the rising sun. As soon as I had accomplished the task of dressing, always so difficult on a steamer, I rushed out on deck and there to the left lay the white coast of Portugalmy first glimpse of Europe—and to think that I had seen Africa first ! Soon loomed into view the great rock of Gibraltar, which warns me that this letter is doomed to an abrupt conclusion, for there it must be despatched. But I shall have to hold the ship if necessary until I tell you about the funny old German Baron we have- on board ; he is most devoted to me, and makes an excellent cavalier servant©. Don’t think, however, that I have lost my heart to him, for he is awfully oldforty at least ! He is very gallant and intensely amusing. I have given him some lights on American life in general, and he says that he has a better opinion of the country and its natives (that was his expression) than he. ever had before.’ The day passing the coast of Spain was even more delightful than Bessie had anticipated ; then came another day of sea and sky, on the third day land again: the beautiful Island of Sardinia; and soon after appeared Italythe charmed land toward which her longing had been directed. • Who was so foolish as to say: See Naples and die?’ she exclaimed. ‘ I want to live to see it again and again.’ > ‘ They would not have said it if they had known you, Miss Langhorne,’ said the Baron gallantly. ‘ Will you allow me to be your courier for the few hours the steamer stops over? We will have time to drive to San Martino, where you can enjoy a view unequalled in Europe; as the Italians express it: “stupendo” !’ Bessie joyfully accepted; and Susan’s friends did not join the party, they had seen Naples many times, were blase travellers, the beauties of Nature spread out before them failed to allure their wearied taste.

Bessie, on the contrary, was , undisguised in her admiration of everything, and the Baron pronounced her—charmingly naive. The trip to her was one of uninterrupted delight; the last stage of the voyage, too, from Naples to Genoa, her peep at that city, and her peep at Milan and its cathedral' enraptured her.

Here she parted from her aunt’s friends, the Baron included, they were all 'going to Switzerland. The remainder of the journey from Milan to Venice, she made alone. It did not seem long, her imagination was so busy with the new life before her—* but I am only going for a visit,’ she kept repeating to herself, * Venice and all this is very nice to see en passant, but ‘ there’s no place like home,’ and in her mind was pictured the faint outline of a little home all her own, which would be adorned with paintings and souvenirs of all the lovely places she had visited, bub which for that little home she would leave behind, oh' so gladly! - ■ Her reveries were interrupted by the cry of the x. • . - V*' :

guards: * Si cambia per Venezia The Baron, had taught hex- this much Italian, and therefore she knew that it meant that she was to get out and change at Mestre to another train, and that in half an hour she would be in Venice.

Her heart began to throb at the thought, and the half hour past, the fairy city burst on her view ! Her aunt, Mrs. Langhorne, awaited her at the station, seated in a luxuriously appointed gondola, into which our heroine stepped, hardly knowing whether she was sleeping or waking, so like a dream did it all appear.

‘ You dear darling child, how sweet of you to come to me—and how happy lam to see you. But I must tell you from the first that with me you must be very calm, and never say anything to excite me it might in short prove fatal, for the doctors say my heart is awfully weak. That wretched girl, your cousin Flora, nearly killed me by the upset she gave me in getting married; it was a shock to me merely to know that she contemplated it, for I never expected it of her—such a homely little thing as she is ! And he actually told her that she was “bella, bella, bella” ! and that won her and her fortune too, though it wasn’t a very big one. She didn’t get a cent from me you may be sure. But you, dear child, are awfully pretty, with you I am afraid there is real dangerbut you know you told me once you were wedded to your art, and that encouraged me to invite you here : think of the treasures of art which this city contains and don’t let pretty uniforms attract you.’ • Poor Bessie meanwhile was trying to take surreptitious glances at all the artistic wonders they were passing on the Grand Canal, but Aunt Susan would not let her, she exacted undivided attention, and had so many things to talk about: what impression her new protegee would make on the Countess 8., and the Princess M., and then came a discussion as to the frock Bessie was going to wear that evening at dinner, etc., etc., ,

Aunt Susan owned a palace on the Grand Canal, an old historic palace, and she entertained largely ; Bessie’s duties now were to assist her in receiving her numerous guests. The days in Venice passed all too quickly, the season soon began to wane, summer was approaching, and Mrs. Langhorne spent hours in her gondola, Bessie was her constant companion. The former did not think of such a thing as sight-seeing, but in the time of her afternoon siesta, when her services were no longer required Bessie sometimes stole out alone to wander through churches and galleries, and had many delicious hours.

One day on returning from her ramble she found Baron von Steinbelt on the balcony with her aunt, chatting quite familiarly. He had not told her that he intended going to Venice, and it was consequently a great surprise to meet him. Her aunt seemed much pleased and said that the Baron was an old friend, adding, ‘ he used to visit me long figo, but this time I think he has come to see you.’ I have just been telling him that he can make himself very useful by accompanying you in your visits to the galleries. The Baron is quite an authority in matters artisticj in his company you can realty profit by all that you see.’ And so it was arranged, and not a gallery or art collection in Venice was left unexplored. Mrs. Langhorne was much pleased to see her plan work so well; she explained to Bessie that the Baron was not a marrying man ; indeed, her arriere pensee in encouraging his visits was to keep off the younger men. The season .wore on, but they still lingered in Venice, and decided to spend the fourth of July there. On that auspicious day many yachts floated the Stars and Stripes in the soft atmosphere of the basin of St. Mark, and among the gondolas there were none so beautifully decorated as Mrs. Langhorne’s. From her palace, too, waved a magnificent flag : to see it did Bessie’s heart good, and set it bounding with patriotic throbs — oh, how delightful! on that same day arrived. a big American mail, and among her letters there was actually one from Harry Hollis, the first he had ever written to her.

It was a passionate letter, too, such as one would never expect irom such a quiet youth ,as Harry; he told her how much he loved her, but that he would never have had the courage to tell her so if she had not given him hope by expressing admiration for a life of simplicity. ‘That is all I can offer you at first, Bessie, but better days will come, for my prospects are good, and we shall not have to live all our lives .in a four-room flat. It was you, Bessie, that gave me the ray of hope on which I am building. Come home when you will, you will always find me waiting for you.’ Bessie had the letter still in,her hand when Mrs. Langhorne came into the room all in a flutter : ‘ Bessie, Bessie, oh my heart! This is awful ! But it is not your fault, deariehe says you have given him no encouragement whatever—but that he really loves you —and, Bessie, he is one of the oldest noblemen in Europe, not oldest except as to family of course, and riches too, you’ll never do better, and to think that it should devolve on me to make you such an offer; but though it will break'my ’heart, absolutely break it, to lose you, I cannot in conscience advise you to refuse. My poor heart ! But this is something very different to Flora’s affair, this is something worth while.’ ‘ But who is he aunty ? and what is the offer he makes ?’

‘ Oh, you stupid child, the Baron of course, who else could it be ? Is there any one else whom you are expecting to propose V Bessie colored just a little, and crumpled up the letter in her hand as she answered: ‘ Well, certainly I didn’t expect it of him, aunty, but you need not worry for I do not intend to accept; you can tell the Baron that although I feel greatly honored by his offer I really cannot accept.’ ‘ But,’ said aunty in a burst of generosity, ‘he has castles and chateaux, and parks, and huntinglodges; he is’ what is called “a great catch.” ’ ‘ Notwithstanding aunty, I shall never marry him.’ ‘ Oh, you darling! What devotion ! I see you don’t want to leave me,’ and she threw her arms around the young girl, and kissed her again and again. Bessie did not think it necessary to tell Mrs. Langhorne the import of the letter in her hand, nor the answer, she intended writing to it. She feared the effect on her aunt’s heart.

‘This is the fourth of July,’ said the latter, the Baron has promised to spend the evening with us in our gondola, and afterwards to eat an ice with us on our balcony. It would spoil the evening for him were I to tell him of your decision, so I will just say I have not had an opportunity to speak to you yet, and you must act as if you knew nothing.’ Bessie did not like the idea of acting a part; but then auntie’s heart had to be considered.

The evening on the Grand Canal was delicious, but its stately palaces had less charm for Bessie than the cosy little home awaiting her across the sea, on Manhattan Island; and the Star-spangled banner on the gondola waved over a true little heart in which Mammon had no throne.

All of the next day Mrs. Langhorne was very busy writing, and remained shut up in her room for several hours, not admitting even Bessie. The latter did not know what it all meant, but had she been, more used to auntie’s ways, she would have known that such action simply meant that Mrs. Langhorne was making her will. This was exactly the twenty-fifth time she had done so, but this time she really believed that she had found a worthy object on which to bestow her affections and her fortune.

The Baron still continued to be a frequent caller at the palazzo Americano, as their house was called. He had taken his refusal quite philosophically, and in speaking of it said : ‘ I like lier all the better for it; I didn’t realty think she would have accepted, but thought I’d try. I have found out there is one American woman who does no buying or selling in the matrimonial line.’ - , .

Since the failure of his courtship of Bessie, the

Baron, when he called sent up his card to Mrs. Langhorne only; she seemed to enjoy his visits immensely, and found in him a most congenial friend. Strange as it may seem, their conversation turned on matters matrimonial.

One day the question arose as to what constituted a happy marriage. ‘ Equality,’ exclaimed the Baron promptly, .‘equality is the great thing: equality in age, rank, and position. Of course there are exceptions, and the exceptions prove the rule. Now you are my superior in everything, and yet 1 think we could be happy together, don’t you?’ ‘ Oh,’ cried aunt Susan, ‘is this a proposal? Oh, my poor heart! Baron, you forget my heart! Oh, the suddenness of itbut I am honored indeed, and gladly acquiesce. Gasping, she extended her' hand to the Baron, who grasped it, but it was in death — aunt Susan’s heart had really failed, she had sounded her note of warning for the last time. None of the funeral preparations devolved on Bessie; Flora appeared immediately upon the scene, and claimed as hers the privilege of attending to everything. ‘I am aunt Susan’s heir and nearest of kin,’ she said, ‘ and it is but right that 1 should perform these last sad offices.’

Bessie was made to feel that she was altogether de trop. Still she resolved to wait until after the funeral, to pay at least that much respect to aunt Susan’s memory. Even a few days’ hotel expenses would be a serious consideration for her, and Flora had told her plainly that she could not stay in the palace, as it was to be shut up immediately after the funeral. ‘ There is a train,’ said Bessie, ‘which leaves one hour after. If I leave by that will it be soon enough ?’ ‘ Oh, but you can’t go until after the reading of the will,’ interrupted Mr. Evans (an attache of the American Legation, and one of Aunt Susan’s oldest friends). - • ‘ Why of course I shall,’ said Bessie, ‘ I don’t see why I need wait. Flora has given me to understand that my presence will be unnecessary.’ ‘ Her own might be more easily dispensed with,’ said Mr. Evans, laughing. ‘ You are heir to everything; the will is in my possession.’ And so it proved —with the exception of a small legacy to Flora, all Aunt Susan’s possessions belonged to Bessie. But she had no desire to linger; leaving her affairs in competent hands, she hastened to Genoa, thence by steamer to New York. The day on which the steamer was due Harry Hollis spent the morning on the dock, but with what different emotionsthis time he was not waving adieu to an out-going steamer, but awaiting an in-coming one. Ah, it is not only the waves of the sea that are ploughed by the paddle-wheels of our great steamers, they cause varied emotions deep down in human hearts. The first greeting over, Harry questioned; ‘ Well, Bessie, are you sure that you will be content with the little flat

‘ Dear Harry,’ she replied, ‘ I have a secret to tell you. lam not quite the same Bessie who sailed away to Europe.’ Harry looked frightened. She continued : ‘During my long solitary visits to the Italian churches I found more than the treasures of art, more than painting or sculpture; I found the spirit, the faith that inspired those glorius —Harry, I am a Catholic !’

The listener clasped his hands, and raising his eyes heavenward, exclaimed: ‘How wonderful are Thy ways, O Lord!’ Then , addressing Bessie he said: ‘ You remember my chum, Paul Kingsley. Well, he and I had many talks on the subject of religion ; he has been for . some time a Catholic, and is now in a seminary preparing for the priesthood. His arguments went far to convince me of the divine origin of the old ■Church, but his life was the most powerful of arguments, for he is a young fellow without a vice, and I only waited for your return to ask admission into the Church. And now all is bright, the clouds that obscured the horizon have passed away; in the new light which encircles us both all dread of the future is at an end, and the small affairs of every-day life can trouble us no more. —Catholic flews-