THE STORYTELLER

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 17, 13 May 1925, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER

The aged man paused a , few minutes, and then continued: “I forgive him also his ignoble conduct, for, after all, he saved me once from perdition, and Ids hist odious act saved me from a perdition still more terrible than the mere temporal one. Xora, had it not happened thus, we should have been parted; and what would have become of me, my darling, .without you to watch at my side! You were right in saying that it is well it should have happened thus. Had you goije away with him, with the one who would have placed you in a completely different circle,- I should have become a total stranger to you; but now -there is nothing to divide us. You have become my comfort, my support, my salvation in a hotter sense than the one I had dreamt of. . . . Child ! your mother left you to mo.” ■ “Yes, it is well .that it- should he so,” said Nora gently and calmly,'although her heart heat rebelliously at the remembrance; but she re 1 heel her cheek fondly’ against her lathers, and holding her arm around his neck,.-she felt wondronsly calm, wondrously happy. She understood now the reason why she had been forced to make that great sacrifice, and she saw, blessing God the while, that it had borne such glorious fruit. And thus in a. 5 beautiful - intimacy did father and daughter spend ? the remaining time they enjoyed together on earth. It seemed to be once more with Karsten as it had been in the days when Ellen’s influence was creeping softly.over him, and trying in its pious love to gain his soul for heave;!. He now longed for spiritual consolations, and Nora could give them as sweetly and as fully as her mother would have done. It was also a beautiful hour that in which the restless adventurer, the man of pleasure, lay quietly in his child’s arms, and then; sank into his last repose—in the arms of that child who had so completely given herself up to him by the sacrifice of her life’s happiness. His last days were full of holy peace and of warm love, for, after all the strange windings of his life,' his better self had been rescued, , The chaplain came as soon as he received Nora’s letter, and proved himself, as usual, a true and sympathetic friend. Alfred Karsten’s last words to him were, as Ellen’s also had been, begging him to watch over his daughter, who remained once more alone av i thou t protection. Consequently, a few days after all was over, the chaplain asked Nora what her .future intentions were. She had just received a. letter which she had read with the greatest .? attention, and. as she now looked up at the chaplain, there was - a tear trembling ,on her eyelashes. 'MXfM'AU- " • “This *letter -would settle, the question very

NORA Translated from the German by Princess Liechtenstein (Published by arrangement with Burns, Oates, Washbourne, Ltd.) ' v ' CH APT KB XXlV—(Continued)

easily,” she said, “you cannot imagine how b much noble love and honest feeling it con- y tains.” “Does it come from Baron Dalmoiv.?.”-. ask*, ed the chaplain in a somewhat uneasy tone. ‘‘Yes,” she said quietly, “from Baron - Dahnow, who, having heard of my father’s last illness, offers me, in case of the sad' event which has just taken place, to protect and to love me, and to endow me with his name, without giving a thought to all the past.” ; “It is certainly a very noble offer, and .... quite in accordance with his character,” said the chaplain, “if only”—and he paused, as if discussing the point with himself, What should he advise Xora to do in her position? A marriage with such an excellent man certainly assured her a happy future. “No,” she said decidedly; “there are no its about it. But such a proposal should make it clear to me what I wish to do. All ' that for which I once longed has no more any charm for me. The tree when felled to the ground by the storm begets no new leaves; but when the roots remain, it need not rot, but may, -on the contrary, , shoot forth many a new branch.” She spoke reflectively, in a. whisper, as if to herself. - - “I don’t quite understand what you mean,” said the chaplain. “I know of some hearts who, are satisfied with giving love, without expecting it to he returned to the full; and I think that makes a woman hap-' pier than to mourn for a past love. . . . There is, however, one difficulty” “I thank God that that difficulty exists,” she interrupted. “Had it not,existed standing between us as a stern duty, I could not have done otherwise than recompense such faith and such devotion by my whole life. But, as it is, the deepest love would not suffice to fill up the chasm!” “And yet,” said the chaplain, feeling that it was his duty not to encourage her, though sorry that it should lie so, “it would have been a great comfort to see you arrive at ; last at the port.” ; She raised her beautiful bead, and looked ■ dreamily before her. “Yes, such a marriage !■ would indeed prove a quiet haven of rest; but you think it would he. for my happiness? I am my father’s daughter through and through; I must have active work; I must fight out the combat of life. I wished to do it once for earthly happiness, let mo ■ do it now for a .higher purpose.” “Oh, my child! be careful of taking such a decision in a moment of exaltation,” said the chaplain ;in an anxious tone. “When we have gone through a severe- disenchantment, we so often think it . easy to have done for ever with all that life offers us of good “■and of beautiful.” ’ ’ : A “But I don’t wish to do without it,” she

said with.something like a. smile on her lips. “On the contrary,l want to begin life again hi. right good earnest. The time is past which I would fain have buried mysetv away in quiet and repose. I. will rest no longer; I, have set myself new and great tasks. Believe me, the Lord has left me courage and strength for accomplishing many a work before I die.” She now arose and stood before him, and as he saw her in the full strength.and beauty : *""*• _ ' V;; v''? 7. V ,V;j # * of her womanhood, .her eyes sparkling with a warm enthusiasm, bo could not but admit that she seemed in no way tired of life. “And what will happen to him?” said the chaplain, glancing at the boy who was playing at i some "distance from .them. “Yes, my first.duty is towards him, and I will try to fulfil it thus. I will seek to create for him a new homo amongst my mother’s relations across'-the ocean. There he'will have protection and love, and bis career can be more easily marked out for him there. Lor me also a. wider field of action will open itself in the new world. Sicne Baron Dalmow’s description, I feel powerfully attracted towards America, where so many hands arc wanting to work for our dear Lord. But you, my kind and good friend, the first friend of my childhood, please help me in my preparations for this great journey ; help me now, as yon did once before, to take my first step upon a new road.” • The chaplain held out his hand to her. “You have set yourself many a task, and for the third time you have chosen combat instead of peace. The Lord leads you truly

ft along strange ways! Your mother had only r one idea, your salvation, and I think that I her prayer has been heard, for you seem also | to have no other aim. God be with you, my I child!” And then he alluded for the first I time to a subject they had Pot yet touched | .upon. “Your happiness was cruelly marred,” he said. “It was only one sort of happiness,” she answered mildly, “and there are other and ■better things besides a May-love”; and thus ended their conversation. A few months later, a young couple, comling from Italy, arrived at a South German town situated' in the midst of the mountains. ■: is The young wife concentrated all her attention upon a boy who, only a few months old, had been born beneath a. warm blue sky, and for whom it was considered necessary to ; spend some time in Southern Germany, in ‘order that the cold north German winds should not nip off the son and heir in the bud. , The gentleman looked, on the whole, rather bored at his wife dedicating- her sole atiemtiou to -the child, and, indeed, she seemed as if she could not think of anything else. Of course, he was a very proud and happy {father;'.but .for all that, be seized hold of .M first opportunity for leaving her to the of the baby. The mountains apVfpeared bathed in a pink dew, and the sumrmer evening was so inviting that he strode '•.out gladly] upon a large terrace facing the ‘ihotel. He soon noticed another individual seated at some distance, and turning his back upon- him. It struck mm that the

figure and the whole attitude had something familiar about them, so that he advanced a few steps, and then again stopped, hesitating. At last ho exclaimed, “Is it you ?”■ and, then; stepping forward, lie continued —“Vos, it is Dahnow; you could travel incognito now, you’ve such a wonderful figure. How delighted I am to see you, old fellow!” “Ah! Degenthal!” answered the other coldly, - and turning his face slowly towards him. “Yes, I; on my way home after three years’ absence, bringing my wife and child with me, too,’.’ lie added, laying a stress upon the last words. “A famous boy it is! But what’s the matter with you? How strange you look,” lie added, . hurt at Dabnow’s expression. “I probably look like some one who lias just been refused for the , third time,” said Dahnow bitterly, and putting a letter be Had been holding in his hand into bis pocket . 'mi refused! you, such a capital good fellow, so rich, and run. after; why, that is impossible! Who on earth can have refused you?” “Nora Karsteu,” said Dahnow, hurling the name at him with a burst of indignation. And, indeed, it was unlucky that these two men should have met at that moment, the one happy and satisfied, and the other, refused for his sake. “Nora,” he repeated; “the man to whom the pearl belonged left it lying in the dust, and no other hand is allowed to pick it up! ” . “Nora Karsten,” stammered Degenthal, stepping back, “Nora Karsten, who eloped with that man Landolfo?” . .

“Oh I it was easy to believe for him who chose to do so!” said Dahnow, turning his hack upon him. Blit Degenthal seized a convulsive hold of his shoulder : “What was easy to believe? What do yon mean What was untrue?

“I mean that it was the most abominable and barefaced lie in the world. To think only that that girl should have run away with that blackguard ! That that noble creature should have married that cur ! Whoever could have believed such a thing must have wished to believe it! If you care for the details, lot me tell you that it was her step-mother who run away with that gentleman, leaving husband and child in the lurch, as is the 1 way with ladies of that kind. In order to make matters pleasanter for themselves, and lo vent their hatred against Nora, the precious couple spread the news under Hie poor girl’s name, and it was evidently-crowned—thanks to general credulity—by an uncommon success.” “Impossible!” exclaimed Degenthal, “impossible! With my own eyes” “You probably read what I read,” said Dahnow sarcastically “and I —l who had never the bliss of approaching her as you had —I who had not tried to take possession of her heart —I who did not make her fine speeches about" her being worth all the world to me, about saving and protecting her:l did not believe it! I. esteemed her. sufficiently to see at once through such an abominable lie, and gave myself a little trouble in order to get at.' the truth.o One single : question

was sufficient to make everything clear. .1 . As -for you,” and Dahnow grew more and more’ eloquent in his ■ rising! anger, “what have you done? Did not I. warn yon at that time, when, in a manner devoid of all sense, you did all you could to win her? Did not I tell you beforehand that the. intoxication of love would cool down before stern and sad reality? That was the moment in which, weighing the matter with your conscience as a man, yon should have retired. But he who dares to take such a step after mature consideration —and yon were right, for I swear that she was worthy of —and who then seeks empty reasons for freeing himself, he*is . . . There! It makes me sick to think of it! Do you know how I found her? She was sitting at her unconscious father’s bedside, her apparently dying father, alone with the abandoned child. Her reputation blasted on your account, her situation hopeless, and no one there to help her, no one .to pour out for her one drop of comfort! I tried to help her as far as it lay in my power, and 1 did all that a mail can do for the woman lie prizes the most in the world; but I could not gain one thought for myself, one thought which would have made her faithless to you ! I have seen bow her love for you, forsooth! robbed her of every joy, of every happiness. Strong and courageous as she was in everything else, she still mourned for her past love. And, let me tell it yon, to your face, I despise with all my heart the man who could thus' destroy a woman’s happiness, who could thus mar her whole life!” And shaking off Degenthal’s hand from his shoulder in no gentle manner, be strode into the hotel.

Degcnthal remained alone. He had not interrupted Dahnow, no, not even by a word or an exclamation, but lie felt an icy coldness creeping about his heart, as once ,of yore; and be pressed his hand upon it, as if seized by a sudden bodily pain. During three years he had lived in comparative repose and happiness, three years during which he had tried to put away every thought of Nora, and to suppress every doubt which, nolens nolens , would sometimes arise in him. When lie had found it more difficult than usual to put away old memories, he had worked himself into a proper state of anger and of indignation, and told himself that he had a lucky escape, and now!

His wife's voice sounded at this moment upon the terrace, calling him somewhat impatiently, “Curt, Curl; 1 beseech of you, what can make you stand such a long time staring at those old mountains, instead of looking at our darling who is so lovely just now? Only think, be notices that he is in a. strange place, and refuses to sleep unless we change the arrangement of the room. Isn’t it clever of him? Come in, you must help us”; and thus speaking, the wife took a somewhat despotic hold of her huband’s arm and drew'him in. Curt followed as in a dream — in a dream also, he allowed the boy to be placed into his arms, admired his beauty and praised his cleverness, as much as could be desired by the wife and the nurse. It certainly was as dear a little child as possible at ten months old. Curt i shoved about the bed, until at

length, ho easy task, the wife tho nurse s, ■ land the baby’s contradictory wishes had been fulfilled. But there was something so absent j n d so strange in his whole manner, that TL*ily noticed it at last. • V" “Send naughty papa away, my darling; he t hardly looks at you a. bit, and will only be happy when he is out again with his cigar and his mountains. You men are so heartless,” she added pouting. Curt’s only protest against this accusation was to deposit a. kiss upon his hoy’s red , lips, and then he was glad, to go, for ho : felt as if be could hardly breathe in that room. At a momentsuch as the one he : : was now going throughin which an old passion flames up afresh in us, even our first child’s smile does not suffice to calm us. The fresh and pure mountain air, and the quiet peace of a summer evening, did not seem to do him good either. From time to time a sentence, sounding more like a. cry of anguish than a string of words, broke from his lips: •“It was easy for him to believe it, who chose to do so.” * Was it really true, and had he wished to believe it? The moon was standing high above the mountain tops, and Curt remained in the same place, until at last be felt a band laid upon bis shoulder. It was Dahnow who stood before him, and it was not only the moonlight which made those two men look as pale as two ghosts. “Degenthal,” he said gravely, “1 have come to say good-bye, and, before we part, let me he assured that , all anger ray words may have called forth is at an end. It was i, wrong of me to disturb your happiness and i j your peace; but there are hours in which a V? "devil awakes in ns. No, we will say no more about it. No amount of words could do any good; it was evidently intended that things should happen thus, and you did not wish to act dishonestly. She was not meant for either of ns, perhaps she is right also not to wish to marry a man of another faith; and yet I am sure I would not have opposed her in anything. She was, however, lived enough in difficult and crooked circumstances —perhaps it is better so!” “Where is she?” asked Degenthal, and the words had only a sound about them. 4 “Karsten is dead, and she is going to her mother’s home,” said Dahnow shortly. “But now, let all that ho buried; I would not part from you in anger, and I am off to-night. Farewell, Curt, may you he happy in the .blessings God has conferred upon yon!” “Where do you go?” asked Degenthal, grasping Dahnow’s extended hand. m “Where?” repeated Dahnow. “Why, you ; see, to the man who can create himself no homely hearth, the whole world is open— but at the end tho bird returns willingly to its first roosting-place, and the time may come when my northern home will appear the best place for me to roost in.” £ 7 “What will become of you?” asked Dcmisunderstanding the sense of his words, for he heard them only as in a dream. A A, 7 y< y “What will become of me?” said Dahnow, v starting at the strange question. “Probably a great puzzle to all those who may still wish to turn mo to use, and later on a pleasant look out for my nephews,”

With this little joke—for he could not resist a joke even then—Clemens Dahnow turned away. It was only a joke, yet it was a graphic description of Dalmow’s future life. After travelling about during a few years, ho returned home, and settling down in the capital, he continued, surrounded by his family, to pursue his scientific studies, in which he soon made himself conspicuous. His house was, as ever, a model of refined comfort and taste, and he gladly surrounded himself by pleasant and merry people. He was right ; it soon became a difficult problem for the world to solve how a man gifted with so warm a heart, and so fond of his home, should not wish to take unto himself a wife; but he steadily refused to follow his friends’ advice, and was as a tower of fortitude against every daring plan made by his family to succeed in marrying him. Tho pleasant prospect for his nephews became every year pleasanter, but all of a sudden it was threatened by tho appearance of an American, an agreeable and pleasing young man, bearing an old French name, and whom Dahnow took completely under his protection. He wished to travel ; n Germany, hut for the present he seemed to look upon the baron’s house perfectly as his own and spent weeks, nay months, as his guest. Ho was so declared a favorite of the master of the house, that a. dread surprise took hold

of certain relations, who assembled in family council, and asked each other “ What could bo the meaning of this?” However, a general; calm succeeded on learning that the young American was a rich proprietor in tho new!; world, and that there need be no fear of his placing himself on tho list with Dahnow s heirs. - - Relieved from their fears, Dahnow’s elation now gave themselves up to the great pleasure of trying to guess in what relation- . ship this young man stood towards him. The latter was silent and smiled. As for the young man, ho put himself completely at his ease, turned the quiet house topsy- . turvy, showed but small interest for his protector’s scientific researches; but, on the other band, enjoyed his horses and his dogs, without being in the least able to explain to himself why lie should stand so high in his host’s favor. Perhaps the secret Jay in the letter of introduction he, had brought the baron, or in the name of her vhom h© mentioned sjo often, and who, having watched over his childhood as a mother would have done, had at last left him the greater part of her fortune ; or, perhaps, there was something in the finely-chiselled profile which reminded Baron Dahnow of the only features he had ever loved, and which had had the power to trouble his quiet destiny. (To he concluded.)