THE STORYTELLER

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 11, 25 March 1925, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER

Lily’s joy at again meeting her cousin had been singularly damped. He fell so ill after his arrival at Gohlitz, that a doctor had to be sent for, and Lily had thought it necessary to telegraph for his mother to come. The countess arrived the next morning and oh! what a painful meeting this was to her after so long a separation! The pale face, the emaciated figure, the lifeless expression of his eye, told her that the blow he had received was one of those which change a man outwardly and inwardly for life.

Perhaps she felt something like contrition during the hours she now spent at his bedside, when she .found him too tired to support even the sound of his own voice, too indifferent to inquire after his home, too cold and reserved to return her caresses, or to speak one word of confidence in her ear. It seemed as if some cold air had blown upon this young man’s heart and had turned it to ice.

But the countess was not fond of searching or discussing the past she was convinced she had fulfilled her duty, and she did not reflect that we generally, accomplish, the most punctually, those duties we have imposed upon ourselves.

His illness? Why, that was brought on by “those people,” the climate, and his own weakness. It satisfied her to think how very necessary it always was, and had been, to guide him entirelyhow mistaken the chaplain was when he advised his being left to himself, and how careful she must be in the future to keep him away from anything which might remind him of the past. No one was aware of the cause of this relapse except the chaplain, who kept silence. He believed that there were mattersand this was onewhich had better be left to time, and which it was better not to hurry on. Not so the countess.

It was September before Curt was declared to be convalescent. The autumn sun, which retained the brilliancy but had ' no longer the warmth of summer, shone upon the soft, green turf, and the bright flower-beds beneath the terrace at Gohlitz Castle; and from the drawing-room Lily inhabited in summer one could step out upon this terrace. It was. a delicious spot, quite invented for a convalescent: the large, flat stones, the protecting walls of the Castle, and the exotic plants which transformed it into one huge nosegay; in the foreground, the large lawn, with its dainty beds, rich in flowers and varied in colors, and on the horizon, mountains and woods as a background. This was all very enjoyable, and when the sun was too hot or the wind too cold, one could take refuge in the snug: and cosy room. ■ Since Curt had risen from his bed he spent many

NORA Translated from the German by Princess Liechtenstein (Published by arrangement with Burns, Oates, Washbourne, Ltd.) CHAPTER XX.

an hour there, in an apparently dreamy rest. This outward rest, however, only served to conceal the inward struggle which he was corrying on with himself ever sine© he had met Nora. The love, which had once more awakened in him, and the strength of will which sought to hurry it away for ever, went on gnawing at his heart. He felt qualms of conscience, too, and asked himself twenty times in one day whether he had been right, to condemn her unheard. And yet he was so exhausted that he hardly could think. Rest! Rest! That was what he thirsted after. He would have liked to spin a web around him, and to live therein, forgetting all and everything. But we cannot forget at will; and often the more we wish to throw a veil over the past, the more obstacles we encounter in doing so. Those who surrounded him, too, increased the difficulty of the attempt, as they had, more or less, played a part in his life. Lily was the only one who was associated with non© of that past, and with whom, therefore, he felt the most at his ease.

And, as for Lily, she only saw in him the missing one she had so often longed for, the sufferer for -whose very life she had trembled, and now the convalescent for whose recovery she blessed the Almighty with her whole heart. She was so happy at seeing him up again that her eyes danced for joy. She was so pround, too, of having' him quite under her control, of being able to take car© of him, that she seemed a transformed being, loving, .as she did, with the tenacity of her character.

Curt did not think his corner on the terrace the less pleasant because Lily was so frequently there. Her fresh complexion, her fair hair, and her good-natured eyes, showed off to better advantage in the daytime than in the evening, when she often looked tired and insignificant. The simple l morning dress suited her better than the display of an evening one, and it certainly occurred to Curt that his little cousin had improved considerably during the last years. She had grown taller, and her figure more graeful; her formerly chubby round face had thinned down into a pretty oval, though her two little dimples were still distinctly visible when she laughed. And Lily laughed often, in her quiet way, since Curt, had become her guest.

His eye rested with pleasure and kindness upon the pretty girl, whose tranquil expression was rather soothing than not, and" it amused him to watch her busily directing her household. • She was always occupied, this little woman; with her. housekeeping, or her flower-beds which were* her ~ great pride, or else giving audience with quite a matronly dignity to her agents and to her

poor. These obligations she observed very faithfully, and of late she had found it necessary to fulfil. them in the vicinity of ..the terrace perhaps, because the young % "£ bought it her bounden duty to be as%jch as possible with her sick guest. Curt .often called her away to him, and when she \ sat by him radiant with joy, it somehow did not put him out in the least that they were only commonplace remarks which fell from her rosy lips. He rather preferred it even, over-tired and over-excited as he was, having done as he thought completely with life. Hundreds of young people have thought it before him, hundreds of young people will think it after him, and it is an idea they are sensitive about so long as it lasts. All the same, however, he found it pleasant to be made so comfortable and to be thought so much of, and now and then the idea vaguely crossed his mind that it must on the whole be agreeable to have a companion , so quiet beside one —a companion upon whose shoulders one might place all the petty cares and tiresome small duties of life. As Curt gradually recovered, Gohlitz became more sociable and more animated. Countess Degenthal acted as chaperone to the young hostess, and a great many of Curt's friends rushed to Gohlitz to welcome him home. It was thus that one afternoon a small and agreeable circle com nosed of some country neighbors and a few of Curt's old friends had assembled on the terrace. The Rittmeister whom the chaplain had met at the circus was also of the parly. . There is no doubt that there are days, one hardly knows the reason why, when .everything seems more beautiful and every ..one-more charming than usual. Such a day seemed to be shining upon the little society at Gohlitz. It was probably not the bright sun which made Lily so particularly gay, and so different from her usual demure self, but she was gay and different, and her heart alone could have whispered the cause of her transformation. She looked just like a cornflower in her blue gauze dress with blue ribbons flowing about her fair hair. Happiness and love, those two magicians, had given her an expression of life and of animation she had never shown before. As mistress of Gohlitz it would not have been difficult for her anyhow to gain admirers; to-day, however,, it was not the hostess but the bright and charming girl who attracted every one to her side. The gentlemen present' all hovered about the place where she sat, looking like a little May-queen crowned by the .blooming oliander, whose rosy tints did not succeed in putting her freshness into the shade. She accepted every homage with quiet self-possession, and seemed only to have eyes for one person. It was but natural that Curt should not turn away from those friendly eyes which were always seeking his. In whatever mood a man may find himself s „it would be an extraordinary occurrence that , toe should feel so dead to all vanity as not ffijp be flattered and pleased at being the \3iosen favorite amongst so many. Curt reclined beside Lily's chair, his arm on the back of it lazily playing with the ribbons which the soft wind was blowing about,,' is if , he had more than. a cousinly right to do

so. By degrees his conversation became increased in animation, and the pretty speeches made by the others seemed to spur him on, for he felt that he was the only one who could bring a becoming blush upon Lily'* cheek. "Dare I also approach the queen of the day?" asked the chaplain jokingly, as he now appeared on the balcony. Lily looked up at him with a proud and happy .glance. "Ah, good day," said the Rittmeister loudly; "yes, here we are all of us at the feet of this young lady, but I can't allow you to be severe upon us, since I saw yon hastening to burn incense before the shrine of beauty." "How so?" asked the chaplain somewhat surprised. "Well, well," laughed the Rittmeister, "I'm afraid you have a short memory, my dear sir! You'd no time left for us, you were in a great hurry to start upon your journey, and then, after all, you sent up a card to the most renowned beauty of the day! Ah, ha! you had no idea that I was at your elbow on the morning you went to make inquiries at the hotel. I trust, however, that you did not push your holy zeal too far, and that you were not too severe upon the young lady. Where would the Circus Karsten be without the lovely Nora?" "Ah!" said the chaplain, anything but pleased with the good Rittmeister's somewhat coarse joke, "you are alluding to my visit to Miss Nora Karsten; well, yes, I d-d call upon her. I have known her from hei childhood upwards," he added quietly. Curt suddenly started, and Lily's blue ribbon was once more allowed to flutter about at liberty. Curt gave no other sign of emotion, remaining apparently indifferent in his recumbent position. Not so the countess, who was seated near the group, and who now looked up horrorstruck, as if she could hardly believe her own ears. "Yes," continued the unconscious Rittmeister, rushing headlong into destruction, "there's no denying that that girl on horseback is one of the most lovely sights a .fellow can see for his money. Really, Degenthal, you ought to see her, if, indeed, you've not come across her in your journey, the Circus Karsten has been almost everywhere." "No," said Degenthal slowly and coldly. "Then go to Vienna and have a look at her, she's really worth the while, particularly in her present character of Libussa, she is creating a great furore. Even the reverend gentleman here semed to be quite delighted with her." "I don't know about my having been delighted," answered the chaplain ; "but I know that I was filled with a deep compassion for the poor girl who was forced, much against her will, to appear in the Circus. She was educated for better things. "Curt," interrupted the countess crossly, "the air is becoming very fresh, and you should certainly not remain out any longer; do pray go in." The. young man gave her no answer, nor yet did he follow her advice, unless the fact that he put. his hat on -and drew it right

over his face, was a proof that he also was careful of his health. ■. _ ; ■'■'. The dauntless Rittmeister did not allow his train of thought to be disturbed. ' "Forced!" he said, "why forced? It seems quite natural that Karsten's daughter should have taken up that line. But I've also heard that she's very respectableno little weakness, you know," and the Rittmeister winked in a sapient manner. "People say that she's betrothed to her father's agent, that handsome, flashy-looking man, called Landolfo," said another gentleman. "I've heard that also," put in some one else. "She refused to appear during a long time, and then gave .in to please him." "You will excuse me," observed the chaplain, "if I assert that all this was gossip." "But I know I heard something about a love story," reiterated the Rittmeister. "I'm rather in a muddle about it now, but I'm sure there was something." "Those things are so often talked about without there being any truth in them. In this case, I can positively assert that Miss Nora was forced, by completely different circumstances, to take a step so intensely antipathetic to her nature, and I can only say that I entertain a deep respect and esteem for her." "Now, really, my clear Curt," said the countess in a still more sharp and impatient tone; "it is really too foolish of you to remain out. Just look what a mist is falling; how can you expect to get well if you commit such follies?" "Je n-en vois pent etre pas la nece&sitc," answered the young man, rising and going as far as the drawing-room door, against which he remained leaning, as if he could not tear himself away from the conversation. Lily now spoke : "Nora Karsten used to be a great friend of mine, and I was very fond of her. She and I were at the same school, and I refused to believe it when I heard that she was going to appear at the Circus. But I'm sure it is- as the chaplain says, and that some very urgent reason must have moved her to it. Perhaps her father suddenly lost his fortune "It doesn't look like it anyway, Countess Lily. The Circus is getting on wonderfully, and makes more money every year." "But then, what can have made her do it?" said Lily thoughtfully; "poor, poor Nora!" "Yes, indeed, she is to be pitied, if, as you say, she was educated in a convent and amongst girls of a better class," said an elderly gentleman ; "the very fact of being severed from their society must he very painful to her." "Poor 4 Nora!" repeated Lily, but at the same moment her eye fell upon the countess, whose- anxiety seemed to be growing quite feverish, and, thinking she was anxious, about her son's health, she arose, saying- "Now I think we must .force our naughty cousin to reason. Come. Curty, it's more cosy in the drawing-room." . :/ of course, followed the young hostess but, somehow the drawing-room \ was not more cosy. The general good humor seemed to have been dispelled as if by magic,

and a "wet blanket" seemed to have fallen upon every one. The countess did not contribute to the general comfort by darting anxious looks at her son and angry ones at fe the chaplain; and to crown all, Curt had ■ "fclf* eadly p ale am * * a y hack as if exhalved in an arm-chair,, without uttering a word. A general break-up ensued, the company alleging that the convalescent needed repose. As the Rittmeister arose to take' leave, Lily asked him in a whisper, "Does the Cir- . cus Karsten remain much longer in Vienna?" ||_, "As far as I can remember the last representation was announced a few days ago. But if you wish it, countess, I can send you more exact information." "No, no, thank you," said Lily hastily, seeing that the countess was approaching. "I will see. . . I now know." The Rittmeister, seeing that she did not wish to carry the subject any further, took his leave. "Now, do tell me, my dear sir, what on earth can have induced you to have alluded in so imprudent a manner to that Karsten girl, before Curt, too, so as to awake all the old reminiscences within him?" This was spoken by the countess to the chaplain in an irritable tone, when, after the departure of the guests, she found herself alone with him. "Indeed, countess, I am quite sure that he has never forgotten anything, and that his present state is only caused by the same old sorrow," answered the chaplain gravely. "Nonsense!" exclaimed the countess, "the climate made him ill, and now the one thing i , to do is never to remind him of the past tVvby any allusion to it. For my part, I. have always carefully avoided saying a word which might turn his mind to the subject. It's really too provoking," she continued in a still injured tone, "and I was so glad, too, of his being here on that very account!" "You see, countess, we poor mortals can do very little with all our precautions, Count Curt and Miss Nora have met, and that quite lately." "Good gracious!" exclaimed the countess, "you don't mean it! How is it possible? , How did it come about?" "They met by accident in a railway carriage, as Count Curt was thavelling here, and the shock of the meeting caused his relapse. You see, therefore, how far from forgetting her he is, and how powerful his . love must still be." "Alas! .alas!" cried the countess. 'And now, of all times, when I really thought that my plans were fitting so nicely into one another, and that he would be got into proposing to his cousin very soon." "Dear countess, believe me and make no plans; you will only frighten him away altogether. Leave the whole matter in the hands of God, and depend upon it He will guide , all for the best. You have nothing to hear , , feptn Miss Nora, as she has long since given (Xfi>Jp all kind of hope." If ; "Oh! if you had only not just contradicted that ' gentleman! I was so glad that jj Curt should hear the way in which she is ; |spoken of."

"It was an untruth, and as such could not be allowed to stand," said the chaplain firmly, though gently, for he rather pitied the countess than not in her grief; "I. am fully acquainted with all the sad details of the case, and it was my simple duty to speak as I did." • "Why couldn't you have let your connecttion with the family drop continued the countess peevishly, as if to vent her anger upon someone whomsoever it might be. "I was so glad to think that we had done with them once and for all!" "It was a question of looking after a soul, countess; and that, you know, is one of the duties of my vocation. I saw that the poor girl, beaten about by sorrow and bitterness, was on the point of falling into an abyss, and I endeavored to give her comfort by my words and by my presence, and to save her before it was too late. Had it not been my duty as a priest, it would have been my duty as a man, for I promised her dying

mother not to forsake her child, and, with God's help, I think I succeeded in my endeavor." "Anyhow, she has not given up riding," observed the countess sharply. "I told you from the very beginning what an unfortunate idea it was to have her educated at the Convent of Brussels, and everything has happened as I had foretold. You may say what you like about it, but what am I to do with my poor son? Would he had remained away!" "Do nothing at all," said the chaplain impressively. "Indeed, there has been already too much, done in the matter. Your son's health and Miss Nora's happiness have already been sacrificed. It's so often the case that, when we run away from one misfortune in our over-anxiety, we fall into another." But it was not an easy thing to make the countess after her opinion. (To be continued.)