The Storyteller.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVII, Issue 7905, 22 August 1905, Page 4

The Storyteller.

A Sentinel of Mb. Th-re is a mystic story with <* moral in the October number ol Har-» per's Magazine by Robert W. Chambcrs. a. successful sculptor, Philip Helmet) sick nearly to death, has struggled into his evening clothes

and leapt his e©gets«nfut at a fashionab'.e dinnet party. While the men are over their wine he vainly inter- ; rogates his host as to the name et the girl in black who had eat opposite him at the table —" the girl in „ black, flufly gown, with arms and shoulders of ivory and the eyes oi Aphrodite.'' Neither from host nor' bostesa. ner (ram the man lie belie >OS to ha<|jfcat ne.it to the girl, can Helnier elflß anything save puz- ■ *led wonder, ana ha roams the drawing rooms in search of the elusive ■ l.eautv. A Circle ol gue9ts besets thp wulptor with requests to explain the meaning of a much-taked-of group of statuary he has recently coiupMed. It represents a vaquero dying iu the desert, and beside him an t'.\qi£site winged figure, whom he is regarding with intends curiosity. " There is no logic In the idea," ftanj Hdmer uneasily, addres&sg his questicoers—" nothing t» attract your attention. 1 have only laid a ghost—" Ha stopped short. The girl ia black stood there- amongst the others, ' intently watching him. When tbt caught kra eye she nodded with the friendliest little smile ; and aa be started to rise she shook her head and stepped back with a gesture for him to continue.

They looked steadily at one another for a moment.

"The idea that has always attracted me," he began, slowljt is purely instinctive and emotional, not logical. It is tit's: As long as I ca» remember 1 have takai it for granted that a person who is doomed to die never dies utterly alone. We who die in our beds—or expect to—die surrounded by the living. So fall soldiers on the firing line ; so end the great majority—never absolutely' alone. Even in a murder, the murderer at least must be present. If not. something else is there. "Hut how is it with these solitary souls isolated in tie world—the lom herder who is found lifeless some vast waterless desert, the pioneer whoso bones are stumbled over by the tardy pickets of civilisation—and twit those nearer us—here in our city—who are found in silent houses. In desented streets, in the solitude of salt meadows, in the miterable desolation of vacant lands beyond the suburbs ? "

The girl in black stood motionless, watching him intently.

" I like to believe," he went on. * that no living creature dies absolutely and utterly alone. L' have thought that, perhaps in the desert for 'instance, when a man is doomed, and there is no chance that he qould liv« to relate the miracle, some wtngod sentinel from the uppermost outpost of Eternity, putting off tho armour of invisibility, drops through •pace to watch beside him so that he may not die alone." There was absolute quiet in th<' circle around him. Looking always at the girl in black, be said : " Perhaps those doomftl on dark mountains or in solitary or the lastsuvivor at sea, drifting t* qertain destruction atter the wrteV has foundered, finds death no terror being guided to it by those Invisible to all save the surely doomed. That is really all that suggested the mari>k—quite illogical, you see."

In the stillness somebody drew a long, deep breath ; the easy reaction followed; people moved, spoke to gcther in low voices ; a laugh rippled out of the darkness. Ilut Hflintt had gone, making his way througn

the half-li<?ht foliage toward a that moved beyond tHrough the deeper shadows o'f the foliag»—moved slowly and more slowly. Once she looked boct. and be followed, pushing forward and parting the heavy fronda of fern and palm and masses of moist blossoms. Suddenly h< came upon her, standing there a? though waiting for him.

"There is not a Soul in this hoti»' charitable enough to present me," he began.

" Then," she answered laughingly, " charity should begin at home. Tnko prty oo yourself—and on ui*. 1 have waited for you." Then, raising her head : " You do not know me, do you ? " " Know you ?" he faltered.

" How could I know you ? Do you think for a moment that I could have forgotten you ? " "Ah, you have not forgotten me,"' she said stilt with hef wide smiling eyeu on his ; " you have not forgotten. There is a trace of me in the winged figure you cut In marblenot the features, not the masked hair nor the rounded neck and limbs —but in tho eyes. Who living, save yourself, can read those eyes?-"-"Are you laughing at me ? "

" Answer mc; who alone in the world can read the message in those sculptured eyes ? " " Can you ? " he asked, curiously troubled.

" Yes ;I, and the dying man in the marble." ■' What do you read there ? " Pardon for guilt. You have foreshadowed it unconsciously—the resurrection of the soul. That is what you have left in marble f or the merciless just to ponder on, that alone « the moaning of your work." Through the throbbing Silence he stood thinking, searching his clouded mind.

" Hie eyes of the dying man are roin- own," she said. "Is It n o t true ? "

Anil still he stooid there, groping, proving through dim and forgotten corridors of thought toward a faint memory scarcely perceptible in the wavering mirage of the past. " Let us talk of your career," she said. leaning back against the thick foHatre—" your success, and aJI that ft means to you." sho addod, g a ilv. He stood staring at the darknei You have set the phantoms of forgotten things stirring and whimpering somewhere within me. Xow tell mc more: tell me the truth." " You are slowly reading it in my eyes," she aaid, laughing sweetly. Head and remember."

The fever in him seared his a 6 l*> stood there, his confused eaiv on hers.

" Is it the threat of hell you read hi the marWc ? " he asked. "No: nothing of destruction, nnlv resurrection and hope in Paradise. Look at me closely." Who are you ? " he whispered, closing his eyes fo steady his swimming senses. "When have we met?" "You were very .young," she said under her breafh, " and you wenyounger, and tho. rains had swollen tf*) Canadian river so that it boiled amber at the fords ; and I could not croast—alas ! "

A moment of stunning silence : then her vqico again : J said noth . inpr. not a word even of thanks when .vou offered art. . . I-was too av J m your amis, and tho ford was soon passed. That was vm L 0"^ 0 " Celling him from shadowy-. sweet eyes, sho said': „ II) L° r , R toy you knew the lanJSrt my ™ uth »t.d my arms '?!!' " ™ ,b( ' » Ntc F " n - Klare of the nvw. Kor every kj-s pv™ "*<*«>■ given and forp n. nemust. account • for men- <""\ -ven to the last. for us' ho til S " ( :l C f' P ;" a^" n P til" rcsurj-ec- ' Lov » »>ch a litdav °" rS n v. hol., ' ' *■ "° , v "i' remember' Yet l " Vert " that U.'* et ' me - ° n,y th " She leaned nearer.

*4 .T? 1 me ' * Vou wh o have protJnirn- « tte resurrection of ticad fouls fl ?> you afraid to die? " Her low voice cens.il: K c hts l- ; ; okrwoui Sh?"' J h ' ou * b 'h f - fo.'iape WoujrJ them; Uw great glass duws

of the ball-room were opening : the | illuminated fountain flashed, a falliag shower of silver. Through the outrush of music and laughter swel-■ Uag round them ft clear, iur \6'C( ooUrd " Francois ! " Again, close by, the voice ranc faintly : " Francois ! Francois 1 She slowly turned, staring into the brilliant (fare beyond. TVfeo called ? " he asked hoarsely. " My mother.'' she aild, .istemna intently- " Will you wait for me ? " His ashen face glowed again like a duli ember. She bent nearer, nn4 caught his fingers in hers. " By the memory of our last kir«, wait foe me," she pleaded, her little hand tightening on his. ■' When- ? " he ask Oft, with dry lips. "We cannot talk here ! —we eann >1 «.i.v here the things that must lie Said."

" In your studio,'* she whispered. " Wait for me." " Do you know the way ? " " 1 tell you I will come ; truly 1 wiR ' (inly a moment with my mother—then I will lie there ! Their hands clung together for nti instant, then she dipped away into the ciowd'ed rooms: and after a moment Helmor followed, head bent, blinded by the glare. *' You are ill, Philip." said host, as he took his leave-. " our face i* as ghastly as that dying vaquero* Tly Hea*e«, man, you look like him ! •' Did you find the prirt in the black dress"? " asked his hostess, cuiiously.

" Yes. - ' he said : " good-night." The air was bitter as he stepped out—bitter as death. Scores ol carriage lamps twinkled as he descended the snowy steps, and a faint gush of music swept outiof the darkness, silenced as the heavy doors closed toehind him.

Where two Wind alleys cut the shabby Mock, wormrng their way inward from the avenue and from the Tenth street, he stopped again, his hands working at his coat. " Tt is fever, fever ! " he muttered. " She was not there."

THere was no light in the street save for the nil fire-lamp burning o" the corner and a glimmer from the ltd (! rape vine Tavern across thway. Yet all around him the darkness was illuminated with pale unsteady flainesy lighting him as he sjroped through the shadows of the street to the Wind alley. Dark old 4ilent houses peered across the pavpd lane at (heir aged counterparts, waiting for him. And at last he found a door that vielded, and he stumbled (into the Mank passage-way, always lighted on by the unsteady pallid flames which seemed to burn in infinite 'lopths of night.

" She was not thorp—she was never there." he gaspul. bolting' 'he loor and sinking down upon the floor. And, as bis mind wandered, he raisM his eyes and saw the great bare room growing whiter and whiter under tuneasy flames.

" II will burn as T burn," he said aloud —for the phantom flames had crept into his body. Suddenly ho laugh«fl, anh the vast studo rang again.

" Hark ! " be whisperrd. listening ♦ntortly. " Who knocked ? " Ther* was someone at the door : he mana«<a to raise himsieH and 'I rag track the. bolt. " Tou 1 " far as she entered hastily, her hair disordered

her black skirts powdered with snow.

"Who but 1 she whispered, brratWcw. " Listen, do you hoar my mother calling me? It is too ,!at*>: but sho was with me to the end" Tbroiwh the silence, from an in>jfinite distance came a desolate cry of grief—" Francois ! "

I He had fallvn hack into his chnir [again, and the little busy flames ,envelo|>«i hiin so that the room I again began to whiten into a rest- | less glare Through it he watched her. The hour struck, passed, struck nrol passed again. Other hours crew, lengthening into Tlißht. She sat Inside lim with never a word or sigh or whisper of bneatling; and dream after drcain swept hini. like burning winds. Then sleep immersed liini so that he lay senseless. sightless eyes still fixed on her. Hour after hour—and the white glare died nut. fading to a glimmer. In densest darkness, he starred, awoke, his i.lin'l quite clear ; ami spoke her name in a low voice.

" I am here." she answd.c.i gentlyi

" Is it doath? " ho asked, closing his eyes.

" Yes. Look- at me, Philip." His eyes unclosed ; into his altered face there crept an intense curiosity. For he beheld a glimmering shape, wido-winjed and deep-eyes, kneeling beside bim, and looking him through and through.