The Storgteller.

Waikato Argus, Volume III, Issue 224, 18 December 1897, Page 1 (Supplement)

The Storgteller.

A MICHAELMAS GOOSE —» By Alfred I\roosK. " Keutish ?" "Aye ; West Kent, I've heard tell." —Tiro Old Men. Mrs Banks kissed her daughter warmly, looking proudly upon her while. " Bless you, Susie," she said, " bless you ! I alw.tys knew you would marry better than either of your Aunt Jane's girls, for all their flounces and their feathers and their French. Men aren't all of them fools, and a sensible man knows that dress and parkz-vous don't make a happy home. And I always did say that Harry Wilson had common sense, and plenty of it/' and the good woman kissed her daughter again. Then she went on. " Why, when we've been talking about things in general and nothing in particular, as you may say, I've often said to your father—aye, a dozen times, I do believe—if ever young Wilson marries, you may mark my words if it isn't something such a girl as our (Susie. And now to think it should bo you yourself ! Not but what you're his equal, as I consider, though bis mother does think so much of her family. And ," but here a vioce from the farm kitchen bawled lustily for " Missuss " and with an exclamation of "There's old .Sam," again; I wonder whatever he wants now," Mrs Banks disappeared. Left alone, Susie stood meditating. And her face was a study, so varied were the expressions which passed ever it. They were mostly pleasant, but some were slightly anxious, worried and uneasy. Presently she drew a letter from the pocket of her gown touching it tenderly, while a far-away look was in her eyes. Her mother had not returned, so, being alone, she kissed the wrinkled paper, after looking shyly and furtively around. It was not hard to guess from whom the letter had coino !

Then, for the fourth or fifth timo that day, she sat down to road it.

" Darling," it began, " after what psssed between us on Sunday it is plainly my duty to write to you. That a man's word should be as good as his bond is true enough, but in a matter like that between us two I don't want there to be any mistakes or misunderstandings. We understand well enough, Susie darling, I hope, but I want your father and mother to understand too. And therefore I put it in writing that my intention is to marry you within the next year or so, if you will have me ; and on Sunday you told me very plainly that you loved me. So there is no need for any secrecy, in fact I wish people to know we are engaged, and I've begun to publish the good news by telling my mother. And as I promised that you should know everything you must not mind when I tell you she was most terribly put out ; I don't think I ever saw her so angry before. But she doesn't know you, girlie, or she would think quite differently. Wo must just try to live it all down ; it is nothing but her wretched pride, though she's my own mother. At any rate it will not make any diflference to us; I am quite old enough to Know my own mind my own choice, and I'm determined to have Susie Banks—- ' so there,' as my sister's self-willed youngster pretty often says. And my * so there ' is positive, as I very plainly told my mother."

There is no need for us to read further, since the remainder of the letter (and it was a long one !) was just like most other missives of the name description ; " Ego te amo, tu me amas ; amemus," being the burden of its song. We have read enough to see that in Susie Banks' case, as in many and many another, "the course of true love" did not run quite smoothly. Tliere was a disturbing element, a rift in the lute. And it consisted in the mother of her sweetheart. For Mrs Wilson was averse—bitterly averse— to the match. The Banks' were her social inferiors, and for her son to engage himself to the daughter of i small farmer, hardworking ami none too well off, was a positive degradation. And it was the consciousness of this which caused the shadows to pass across Susie's face as she stood thinking. By birth Mrs Wilson was of an old Kentish family, one well known for centuries in the annals of the shire. Her husband had been a professional man, but for several years she had been a widow, her heart centered in her boy. She had other children—daughters—but her son Henry was her pride. And now a " wretched girl " had come between them. And her son had actually gone and engaged himself to a mere nobody ! It was hard to bear. Harder, I suppose, because it was but a " home-made trouble " after all.

For though she did not know Susie personally, ghe did know enough of her and about her to feel that she would make a good wife. She tacitly admitted that fact, anyhow, although sorely against her will. But for Henry to think of taking "for better for worse" a young woman who made her own dresses and looked after the fowls outdoors and the cooking in, was preposterous. And who —worst indictment of all —was a more " nobody " so far as her family went.

Thus, looked at form every standpoint, Harry Wilson's engagement was, to his mother, a bitter pill to swallow. And there was no sugarcoating or silver-covering to it, since, as before hinted, the Banks' were poor. Still, spite of malicious remarks and

" Words ef withering scorn " and many a little effort of the mother to put a bad spoke in her son's wheel, young Wilson seemed determined to have the young girl of his choice.

It was a sunny September afternoon when Harry Wilson had proposed and been accepted. The bells for afternoon service were cheerfully chiming from the fine old tosver of Susie's parish church down there in the Weald, and they had sounded like an omen of happiness. Yet sometimes, alas, a fancied omen proves but a " lying prophet," after all !

A year had now passed away since that Sunday afternoon, and, so far, things had gone happily between the lovers themselves, although between the mother and her son there ha I been many a sharp passage of arms. It pained Harry enough, he had always been a " mother's boy," but his mind was made up. And the more he saw of his betrothed (he more cause had he to feel satisfied with his choice.

A year had gone, I say, and it had not been a prosperous one for Farmer Banks. Agricultural depression had hit him sorely many a day, andatlasthe wasleavingtheland upon which he and his father before him had so long toiled. He could only pay his way, and that hardly. Certainly nothing more. And when he had done that his funds would be well-nigh exhausted, report said. And, for once, report spoke true. Mrs Wilson managed to keep herself pretty well posted up in knowledge of the Banks' affairs. How she did so was a marvel, but she did it nevertheless. And her acquaintance with the state of the exchequer was an additional grain of wormwood in the already bitter pill. The more especially so since Harry was now to be married in a few weeks.

By hook or by crook, by fair means or by foul, the impending marriage must be prevented. And so the worthy woman set to work ! Another sunny September afternoon—no, stay, it must have been October, since a brace of fine pheasants lay upon the table in the farmkitchen, their brave plump breasts upturned and ready for Susie's skilful basting—and the engaged couple were together, he looking proud and pleased she somewhat shy though more than happy. They were just ending a long and very confidential chat, " And so that's settled Susie ?" he said questioningly in a low voice. "Yes," was her answer, so quietly spoken as to be almost inaudible, But he heard it, and noting the tone of deep contentment in the simple monosyllable, made, lover-liljje, his response by kisses. They had been arranging about their wedding-day, Some twenty four hours later Susie Banks received one of those mean and mischief-making missives, an anonymous letter. And, being foolish, she read it. Had she been more worldly-wise she would have committed it unread to the proper Tartarus of such correspondence, the kitchen fire.

It was short but spiteful. " Miss Banks," it ran, "the writer of this is your friend, although very likely you will think otherwise. But you ought to know what everybody is saying and how people can see your game. Even your ' Harry ' knowa it and would draw back gladly enough were it not that he feels he cannot, the poor fool. Your father and mother are in low water, and there are your two young sisters. And you've hooked your fish that he may feed the family. Young Wilson's got good talents and he may use it for ihe lot of you. That's what everybody says, and ho himself admits it when they chad' him at the club. But he's a gentleman and will not go back from his word because of the ' family pride.' of which ho brags so loudly, Only you should hear him sneer about your ' motives ' sometimes. You arc the laughing stock of the neighbourhood, Miss Banks, and as a sincere friend I can tell you that everybody sees your deep game. I wonder any girl will so lower herself in order to get her pauper relatives a home !'' Susie was in tears before she had read the letter through. Hot tears of anger even more than of grief, since, humbly born though she might be, she had her full share of proper pride and self-respect. And the accusation in the letter stung her to the quick. Worse than that, she believed what it said about Harry Wilson's feelings towards her. Worst of all —unreasoningly and from impulse —without hesitation she acted upon it.

Within another twenty-four hours or thereabouts Susie Banks was many a mile away. She was gone to an aunt in Yorkshire. And her mother, angry beyond belief, approved of her line of conduct, and faithfully promised to conceal her whereabouts, especially from " Mr." Wilson with a bitter intonation on the handle to his name. If ever there was a lying letter that anonymous communication was one. And it worked its evil purpose only too well ! The next time Harry Wilson, ignorant alike of her suddon depar-

ture and its cause, went to visit his betrothed, he met with a warm reception from her mother. And Mrs Banks would neither listen to reason nor tell him the why and wherefore of the suddenly altered state of affair. 0 .

The anonymous letter was not mentioned to him for Mrs Banks would give no particulars. " Your meanness and deceit are found out," she said '• and that's quite enough for you." And the door was shut sharply in his face. Vexed into bitterness by the utter strangeness of the whole affair, and deeming himself slighted, played with and deceived, ho vowed hastily that ho would forget his old love for ever. And to commit himself beyond possibility of recall, he went then and there —on that same Michaelmas evening—and, in a moment of pique, engaged himself to a cousin who had long had tender feeling 3 towards him, but for whom he himself had little more than a mere passing regard. He forgot the truism that " All things come round to him who only waits.''

and a loveless marriage was the ultimate result of his impetuosity. When, now, he thinks of " that" evening he often calls himself ugly names one of which is " A Michaelmas Goose." And when he thinks of Susie Banks, and how upon such slender proof she jumped to belief in her lover's disloyalty, he mutters angrily to himself " And, dash it, she was another!" For he knows now about that anonymous letter. But he does not know 'twas his own proud mother who concocted .the false and mis-chief-making epistle. Were he conscious of that fact I am afraid that, " mother " though she is, Henry Wilson would call her by some epithet uglier even than " Michaelmas Goose," And—with all charity—she deserves it. And so God send that all we who read this Wealden sketch do nothing to liken ourselves to the proverbial "Goose of St Michael" this Michaelniastide !