THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 61, 26 October 1907, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

THE SURRENDER. I knew by the look in the Boy's eyes as he raised them to mine, that I bad hurt him keenly. Yet' to show that I knew it meant to twist the dagger in the wound, tor he was trying with all the m , g ht of his sensitive little pride «nd loyalty to hide it from me. So I waited diplomatically for him to speak but the moments dropped one by one' into the sea ot silence and were drowned, and I could not coununance any r Blau « llter of the innocents, well! I said interrogatively "It's all right, father." He tried to •ay it heartily, but I, listening with the ears of lore, detected a pretence, a note m the heartiness that did not rin- quite true. " ' "It will make no. difference between you and me lad," I „aid bastilv, defensively, as though he had condemned toe. Again that 3wift, hurt look and I knew my words fell on unbelieving ears. "N'o, sir, of course it won't."' Iksaid this gallantly, hue his eves carefully avoided mine. His glance ! strayed along the sloping "hillside to an ' old rail fence where a curious chipmunk i had paused to investigate us. I washed hl« face breathlessly-my heart stopped, beating, and then throbbed on ■ again with a dull ache a* the Huff of ' brown for brought no answering light ' to his troubled eyes. I r.-eliscd poig- | Btntly, then, that the hurt was deeper I than even I suspected and that he had! drawn farther than ever liefore away J from mc into that holy of holies of his inner Self where 1 could not follow him. "It will distress me very greatly not to have you approve if it," I said, going cautiously, lor I would not let him see that I had looked into his sacred sanctuary. "Of course, it"s all right," he repeated sturdily, "an* I'm awful glad if you are happier." But still that fake note in Ida brave little voice that tugged at the strings of my parent heart. "See here, son " the name sounded ftrange on my unaccustomed lips. To Be he had always been just "Hoy," but ■emehow he had grown amazingly in the hut half-hour. I put my hand on his shoulder, man to man, not daring to caddie him as usual. "She is going to strengthen the love between OS, not take from it," I said. "She is rery sweet, and shell give you what Sm're needed all your life—a mother's ve and care." "But I haven't needed anybody but yon, father," he broke in hastily, resentfully, and I fancied his throat contract- ' ed on a sob and killed it, though never a ghost of it appeared in his valiant - yoke. i

1 have always tried to be mother and father to you, both," I went on. Teaching desperately for Hs confidence aa I felt him slipping farther and farther away from me. "You were such a little, wee thing when youjr mother died—a man can't grow very big in twenty-four hours —and I felt so helpless when I looked at the tiny bundle of dothes which was you. Somehow I hare never gotten over that helplessness, and there are times when you Bake me feel that I have been all 'wrong m my ideas of bringing you up. Sfon remember—we've talked it over to often—that unless you tell me all the thoughts that trouble you when yon are a little boy, I can't help you to grow into the honest, strong-hearted man I should like you to be.'' "But I do, father," he said reproachfully, and the dark eyes he raised to mine were grieved and wounded; "you know I do. When the bad part of me Stakes me do things you don't want me to do, you know I always tell you so you can punish me. I don't h:de the naughty things from you." I sighed. How was Ito make him tmderstand the spiritual side of perfect confidence t How could I induce him to let me into the sanctuary where he had retreated and barred me out? "It's not the things you tell me—the wrongdoings you hurt me most. Those we can straighten out, because we both know and understand. It's the things you don't tell me that leave me feeling so helpless. That's where you need a mother. The spiritual Kit of you that you'd give to motherod you shut out from me, and leave me just the fatherhood that can only rap the actualities of life, not any of goer feeling and intuitions." I had forgotten that he was still a eluTd until his puzzled eyes compelled me. I caught him to my heart. •There!" I laughed, "what does anything matter except when I live you and you love me?" Here at last was something be could understand. He drew down my face and kissed it on the day-old Rubble. The act was eloquent. I took the ki«s as a aig n of forgiveness and surrender and said blytbely: . "You go with me to see her to-night, won't you! She asked me to bring yon after I told you the secret. T know you are too much your fathers ion not to love her when you know ker" Was it fancy, or did he draw awav .ftrMly-ever so slightly-from >ny ending anna! I looked into his brave Bttlef»ce and read it truer than he "If voull excuse me, father. I won't go to-night. I-Vm not feelin' very well. But 111 go some other timefcraeat and truly I will," he added, hastfly as he saw my hurt look. "Very well," I »»id w' ta an a" 0 "" 1 and dignified indifference that belied the pain and disappointment. 'Whenaver you feel well enough 111 beg lad to have vou go. But a» she is expertise you, will you send her a message. Gentlemen always send some wrtof ■xcuae when they Sisappoint a lady. I danced furtively at the serious little faceTofthe serious little person on the loe beside me, ijid I wondered if he had ISf, idea how far I was trying him in my effort U> understand, and draw him Sck where we walked side by side in open and perfect confidence. may tell her, pleasc"-he worded tfce message quaintly so suit his ideas Sits grown-up nceds-"youmay tdl her bow sorry 1 am if aheVi disappointed, and that I'm glad she is going to make you happy." "And nothing about your love! "Well, 1 don't know her, you see. it tot quite right to send you love to a lady you dont know.' I was dumb before his wordly wisdom. Yet I saw the naked truth this 2oak of conventional worldliness coverSl He did not want to divide his tort', treasure with this woman woo W stolen me from him. How could I _« helpless man-make this man-child, SSogb/he was bone of my bone and gZhof my flesh, understood that m> taw for her took not one jot or Uttle KsVtow for him! to a way I SZrehended his feelings and pitied £f He had never loved anyone but «T There were just we two in the wnole wide world-never a near blood 35m to draw any of our love away from each other-aad he could not un demand how live could be divided and someone else meant to jtoVtake from his share and grve ,o Mother and it was nearly breaking jis Mttteheart though he tried to keep me E2m kaVwta it Such nobleness was gTfckSSer whose brief dream-lore £S SLMd my youthful days. I*okEffSitom the Height of mature; Santo tne green and verdant val le>» JhTheraeath had storm-swept and aid . the less Sat'Ob deeper and diviner£-«£f i£ rthe dW. £t why should not tte whol«ome sunlight enter the other Xmbers and keep them •"*»»* Sn and habitable! Surely, 'to Gods -Ss provision to keep the House of the Heart from being given over entirely to the cobwebs of despair. When I turned away from his littli White bed that night with his kiss still moist on my lips, he called me back. "Father, do you love me! he wistfully. "Of course I do, laddie mine. 1 l<ne you 'as much as around the world an 1 back again '" , ui , n( j twice as many times more! he chanted, finishing out our nonsent-e "Yes, indeed. Arent you glad wo love each other so much! Why, I wouldn't take all the fortunes in the world for just your tiniest, weenicst little finger!" He smiled appreciatively. "Do you love me better 'n anything in the world!" he persisted, with a tr.i«ic note in bis voice. P "Ye7dear" I said truthfully, and I meant no disloyalty to Her. for at tint moment with his eager fingers clutch}ng mine, I did love him better than anything in the world. "Yon didn't quite b'lieve me when I aaid I was sick!" he said presently, B shame burning in his little face. "AfayV I just 'ractly sick, but it was W f»l » 9,«tCT fedin' hew—-" be put Ms

hand on his cheat—"like somethin' was swelled up jusia,; of me aft' kui'tin' my breath."

I knew the forlorn, homesick ache that was troubling him and clasped his hands tnc tighter. And not until the eyelids closed and the eager face settled into a contented repose, did I stir. Then I gently loosed the clinging fingers, kissed the sleeping li ps and cheek and bro*-, and though the hour was late went away to Her—a tardy messenger with the boy's regrets for not accepting the invitation.

a , Motherhood is one of the least underi- standable of fiod's mysteries. That it Y lies dormant in every woman is proven by the way it quickens to every childish need, even though she has never had a a child. I told Her about the hoy, and e . relieved, placed the problem of him into e ( the slim white hands reached out genii crously to help mc. I knew she was answering the mother call and that the i mother instinct would nut let her err - She did not tell me how she would go about winning him. I think she I hardly k"hew herself, but with a wo- ! {"w'V'.'V" 1 Wief in "«"><*. le» H to that fickle goddess. That Chance, in ■ the shape of the boy himself, placed in- . ■ to her hands most eunninglv, I learned ! j three days later when I returned from i a business trip to another town. : The hoy's joy „t sccino- me was - pathetic. Ho seemed to have felt the II separation keener thin ever before. I j There was room for naught else but his f , gladness until we sat together in the t | vio|..t-colored, .sweet-scented twilight. - | The katydid, were rasping their vespers, ■ j ami somewhere a di-tant frog was artd--1 ing hi? bass to the evening chorus. Mv pipe was half smoked out when I looked • down and eau.ght the bov's adoring eyes. ' " "Glad to have me hack?" I questions, reaching for his hand. The way his : fingers dosed over mine was more eloquent than words. "What did you do while father was away!" "I went to see Her," he said solemnMy heart leaped—l knew the hov would not fail me! But I gave no sign of how great was my pride and joy in him. "That was nice of you," I said approvingly. "How did you like Her?" He parried my question. "We played Babes in the Wood with the kittens," he said, as if that were -,f supremer importance. And then—"lf I must have a mother—if j-ou think I really need one—l'd rather have her than anybody." That was all he would say. The true story of the visit I learned later. ;n the middle of the afternoon before—a hot, late June afternoon when the world was listless under the blazing sun—Her doorbell rang. The maid found a stti/dy little fellow on the threshold, standing with his legs wide apart, as if he had planted them so as to keep them from running away from him. lie asked for Her, but would not enter until she came and drew him into the cool, wide hallway with tender welcome. The bare feet and soiled little blouse that almost concealed the short puffs '. called trousers, by courtesy, showed that this was no premeditated visit. He had come and no one knew. The mother instinct divined in a moment that he was ' homesick for me, and according to a 3 logic of his own, had reasoned that there was a tie between Her and the father ' he worshipped, and so he had sought her out as a means of comfort. Jfot ' by word or look did she hurt his sensitive pride by letting him see she j knew the real motive for his coming, ' but with the soft, sweet, wonderful way a woman has, she strove to make him ' forget liis sorrow. A stealthy telephone message to the woman who should ' have been more watchful of him, left ' the rest of that golden afternoon to them—just they two alone in a world of ' fine fabling where an errant father wis * forgotten. When the sun went down and the time come for the fables to end, T she put her soft cheeks and tempting d lips near, enticing him to kiss her of his own volition. She would ncith'r ' ask for, nor take, what she felt would a mean so much to her of his own free '

: ". On the threshold, as he was leaving he paused with a quaint little air of grownupness.

'tt've had an awfully good time," he Said, and then, bravely gulping down something in his throat, he touched the magic question for the first time during his visit. "I don't really want a mother," he said, "but if I've "got to hare one I'm glad it's going to be yovt and not Katiet"

I confess my masculine mind could not grasp the promising subtleties she seemed to find in his preference for her above the Irish woman who cared for his physical needs. But after all it was the embryo of the boy himself, that brought about his complete surrender. "You talk to him too much," she had counselled me. with a wisdom that sat oddly on her pretty youngness. "You have never let him be a child. Ynu have made too much of a comrade of him, and taken him too far into your world of fancy. And he, being in reality a child, cannot discriminate between the dream things you show him and the real things of life. Give him back his own—the right to be a child. I#t him have the wholesome companionship of other little children. Send him to school."

And I, bowing to her superior wisdom, gave up the dear task of teaching him, and when the time came for him to start to school, I turned with a strangely forlorn and aching heart into the world of fancy of where I dwelt.

His glowing eyes and eager, (lushed little face when he came home in the afternoon was like a stab in my heart. It hurt to know that I was no longer the only human that peopled his world. Vie babbled of the strange and wonderful lnppenings of the .day, but I listened with ears that heard not, and jealous eyes that saw only that something in which I did not figure, had brought him happiness. It was wormwood and gall. and somehow my truant mind kept straying back to the day we took that memorable walk and I told him (he happy secret of Her. Xow, at lust I understood, for was I not tasting the same bitter cup I had held to his childish lips!

The third to* he was at the head of his class in spelling, and I saw how the pride to excel was lighting the alter fics of ambition. This measuring of 'i'is powers with others of his years, was n new and wonderful game to him, and he entered into it with all the might i f his ardent little soul. And then die next day he calmly announced that he was foot! I marvelled.

"I just went," he s.'.id with naive frankness. "Maidie was there. She can't spoil a single word an' never gets to turn anyliody down. So I just missed and mis-cd'until I got next to her, an' then I mi-sed again, hut I whispered to her how to spell the word, and she went al»ve me. She was awful proud of it." Oh, Childhood, how strange thy code of honor! But in that ITrief explanation I learnexl volumes. Did he realise, I wonder, that it was the eternal woman call that was his undoing; that the face of a wotnanchild had driven him from bis .herished place of honor to ignominy? Did he know that it was the Hcht in her eyes that blinded him to the dfsgraco of it? Many a oener than he has perished thus, and m 1 looked at my sturdy man-child my feelings were beyond expression.

"Father." I knew it was something of s'ipreme importance, or he would not have interrupted just when the fairies were endowing the beautiful princess with all the graces no mortal could be guilty of amMive. I closed the book on my forefinger and waited. "What do men say when they ask people to marry them!" The blow left me limp and breathless. II understood now why sleep would not come to his wakeful eyes and why he had tosjr-d until I though to soothe him with fairy lore. Fairies, forsooth, when though so small in stature, he had Brown so far above them! How* littlehow infinitely little I knew! "What do vou say. father, he persjitcd "I'd'rather say whatever you

d ° ; Who are you going to say this to!" I questioned: forgetting my grammar in mv consternation. -YVhv Maidie." His eyes met mme in frank surprise as though he was astonished I could ever have thought •- anyone else. '-She's head of the class now. an' I'm next. I've told here every single word, ar,' she's very fond of me. The otlwrs have made a song al>out Maidie being mad an' they're glad, an' tbev know what'll please her; a bottle of wine to make her shine an' me to squeeze her. She didn't like it at fir-t. but when she found how pleased T was she changed her mind Don't you admire it!' "Very much." I -aid dazedly. ''lt's a

beautiful -ong." "I've been wanting to a-k li<r to marry me for three days-'-aud he kid known her five!—'-lint I di.ln t know just •zactly what to say. You toll me, father." , I "It's a problem every man must workout for himself, my son." I said. '1 'think if I were vou I would ju-d tell her I loved her with all the might of my

I heart aud bruin and life, and that I wanted her above everything else in tho world. I'd say it simply and bravely ami honestly, so she couldn't make a mistake, and I'd make her feel that the strength of my love and the warmth of my arms were worth all the sweetness and youth and womanliness she could give in return. I'd shut her in so completely with my love that she'd never want anything beyond it, and I'd bring it to her so fresh and fragrant every day that she would never grow tired of it.

And I fell to dreaming sweet day dreams wherein a woman's charming face answered my heart-cry, and blessed me. His little puzzled voice recalled me. "I don't b'live I could 'member all that," he said, "but I could say, 'Maidic, [ love you, an' when we both get groded up an' I make ever an' ever so many millions, I'm going to marry vou.' Don't you think that will do?" "That is just what I meant, llov, only I said it with so many foolish 'words. Maidic will understand. The woman always docs if you are sincere, and the manner of saying it doesn't matter if she loves you." He sighed contcntedlv and turned re!fully on the pillow.' I studied (he small peaceful face above the little white ni-Jitic, and marvelled how soon the man in him had responded to the woman rail. Mow precious he was. I thought hun asleep, but he roused presently to "Father, I'm glad you love Her. I fell awful at first, 'cause I thought If you loved her you couldn't love me so well. But now 1 know better, for I love Maidic, an' loving her only makes [ me love you more, an' 'cause I love yon both I love her. I want Her to lie my mother." So at last he had learned (he sweet oM truth that love multiplies in the giving. With a sudden impulse of tlnnkfulness I bent over and laid my head, faintly streaked with grey, on the pillow beside his yellow fluff. Once more we were in perfect harmonv with each other. (Outside, although 'it was dark. Israel burst into a glory of song—or was it some wandering night brother with a voice wonderfully like his?) The boy stirred, and putting out a drowsy, groping dianrl rested it on my cheek. My hand closed over it quickly,' and held H there. "I—love—everybody," he murmured sleepily, and T knew then it was t complete surrender—X. K. Williams.