The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXX, Issue 21, 12 June 1902, Page 23

The Storyteller

THE ONLY SON.

The vonng liusl)and hummed the words of a quaint old ballad and bent to kiss his wife s pale cheek. Outside, the shadows ot the great oak ttees, beneath whose overhanging boughs so many generations ot Sweynsons had placed, since the ancestor of thu family, Swen of the Ked Beard, had come from Jienmark in Cnnute's train and settled on the lands of some conquered Saxon thane flecked with darker patches the dazzling green of the lawn. The cattle rested in the sunny meadows further of! , the deer peeped from the forest glades, the birds sang, and thensong found an echo in Sir Eric Swc\vnson's heart, for it seemed to him ns if they, too, were rejoicing with him over the coming "of the wished-for heir He had been so earnestly desired, so ferveulK piaved for, so long waited for—six whole \ ears— and now that he had come, the ancestral trees and the sunshine! and even the gray old walls of the stately home that was to be his, seemed to bid a welcome to the unconscious little stranger from far away, who la\ m his sdk-lmed cot by his mother's bed, and knew as \ et nothing of the destiny to which he had been born 'Well, dear, wh.it is it to be "> ' What is what to be "> I do not understand ' 'Listen,' and Sir Eric lopeated again the couplet 'Jn plain Engish ; don't you want to know what 7 have biought you ft <nn town ° ' From town 1 ? 1 never thought of jour hi uiging me an.v thing — except yourself ' 1 Well, you see that I am generous Besides my worthless self. J have; In ought you tin 1 - ' and he drew fi om his pocket a velvet-covered case, opened it and displavid a coronet of diamonds, which sparkled m the light Lady Cert i tide gave a cv\ of girlish delight — she was bul 21 — and taking out the coiom-t, held it up to allow the sunshine to play on the sparkling stones ' See how well it will look m your hair- You must wear it often ' not leave it shut up m a hank like those sills old family lewils o| <hiis, of " I'U h I lie\ei cv II feel tll.lt thi \ |.elong to us at all Win, what is the mattei , dear > Aie you not well"' ' For the brightness had faded out of his wife's face and a look of distiess had succeeded it Eric dr>ar, dim t 1 h mk me ungrateful, but I had rather not take the coronet , ' she sa id ' Not take it ' Why not "> Don't you like it "> ' ' Because — don ( be vexed IYonnso me that \ou won't be \i\ed ' I won t, indeed As if I could b< ■^cxed with \on little woman Tell me v our reason ' Well, it would <-(>.. ]ii — lemembei that ,v on have piomised not to be vexed — it would seem to me almost — a little bit — as if I were selling my boy ' ' Selling hun ' What an absuid what a fantastic idea to come into \otir head ' How on eaith '- — ■ ' Well, don't be vexed f know that it is \eiv Mllv, but I enn t help it , and, indeed I had lather not take the coionet — at least, not now When I am well again, peihaps 1 could go with you to lown myself and select something else Tho last w oil's vvei c utteted hastily, and Su laic although mine annoyed at the ' silly fancy than he cared to show fi It that m his w ifi , weak state it would be useless and even cruel to aigue with her further, so ho replaced the coronet in the case and fhe latter in his pocket and turned the comet sat ion by some inquiries tegaiding the baby

Often in the months tli.it followed did Sir Eric pres' Jus wiie to lul/il her half-gi\eii iiiomiM' and to come with him to hclccl o; naiaent instead of the reiected coronet, but smc alwa.v.s iii.nli an cxc u< c for dolay, and ho soon saw that the mention of the matter really distressed her, so he alluded to it no more, and gradually all recollection of iL faded from his mind Meanwhile little Gabriel— he had been born on St. Gabriel's Feast, and his mother, with gentle insistanco, opposed Sir Eric's wish to name him after one of his fierce viking ancestors, and had, after the manner of women, got Ikt own way m the end — gt ew and flourished. Fi on an infant., lvmg m Ins nurse's arms and ga/ing with solemn stare at the great new world, he developed into a blue-e,\ ed toddling laddie, endearing- himself daily more and more to his parents by his lisping baby accents and his caresses, ,and then into a little Knickerbocker boy, who asked sttange puzzling questions and struggled to lift down fi om the library shehes the big dusty folios and quartos. <>\ei winch he would pore for hours, spelling out talcs of adventure, and of heroism from their panes A. quiet, thoughtful child he was, not robust m appeal ance, though nevei ill, cuing not much for outdoor games and spoits Amiable and friendly with other bo\ s of his own age when hi ought nit') contact with them but not caring for their society At home he had no voting companions, for no second child had been born to Sir Fi ie and Lady Geitrude lmt with his paients he Was always content and happy Tlis eail\ lessons lie learned from his mothei, <\\\d it was she, too, who t (ink him with hei t o 1 he I it I Ie 01 a loi v and told him tali s ol i he UK ssed \ irgm a nd ol t he sa nit s, pai t iculailv of his own p.ition St Gabiiel, who, clad m da/z-hng white robes, looked down on him fi om t ho stained gl.i'-s window which i .idv Gertiude had Caused to be placed over the altar shortly aftei lier son s bnth Gabiiel lovid tln si t ili.s bet'tei e\en than those of Olaf and Swevn Forkbcaid and FJ . ium v s and jni.iiis marauding expeditious and vi.it t\ i doins, dei cc old liea tlk ii w ntn t 101 s and Christian viigins <iowned with lilies of ]in re whit(> loses, mingled stiangely in his half-waking thoughts, as the'v did afierwaids m his (beams r,\-.md-li\ the tune foi moie i ei> ulai instructions c ,inie and a good old priest, who had taught his father liefoi c him caiue to h\e m the castle and be his lutoi Gabriel learned to decline nieiwa ' and to c onmgate ' ,11110, and that the angles at the base of ,\n equilateral tiianglo at c equa 1, and ma u\ ot hi r things whuh llltli- hoys ale (\pecled to acuuii c 'I'liev did not gi\ c Gain lei mvi h 1 i ouhle he leained quicK.lv a\\<\ i eiuembei ed will In ot hei matters, too he pioved liimsilf a docile pupil, ,md the old iin oi mkih gn-w veiv fond of him, ami told his mother Ih.it he was a sainth child which s,i\ ing 1 ,ul\ ( :< iti mli' k. pi | o lici - sell not feelmg guile sine Iliad her husb.ind would lie pliasid „i sue h iiidgment passed on Ins son Like too iii.uiv oilier men he was apt to ii'gard piety as a qualit\ suitable only m women Indied Su Pi ie some limes wished that his In ii had been in one or two lispects somewhat dillerent' fi om what he was — moie boyish, as he told himself Gabriel's gentleness, his diead of inflicting pain on even animals stnuk his fat I'M as bordering on elleniin.K v (mm , he t ook Ihe lad w 1 1 h i) nil wlk ii he went mg bul. he in \i i repeated tlif e\pi>i iinr-nt' ' 1 thought

ho would have fainted,' he told his wife afterwards. 'It was really absurd Why, at his age I was quite a good shot.' On another- occasion Gabriel interrupted one of the Viking stories with the remark, ' But it was very wrong of tho Norsemen to kill these poor Saxons ' They were their enemies — it was in war.' his father explained. Still, it w.ib wiuug and ciuel.' But a soldier must kill his enemies , it 1-, hi-, dutj. .' ' Then I should not like to be a soldier L would rather cure people than kill them ' Do you want to become a doctor, hey '> ' Sir Eric spoke in jest, but there was a note of real annoyance in his voice ' A doctor ? I do not know about that . lam not sure.' You are a silly child, and do not understand what you are saying.* With this remark Sir Eric put the boy down off his knee and went himself out of the room. It was some consolation to the father to find, as he did a little later, that Gabriel, in spite of his gentleness, was anything but a cow--ard For hunting he did not care, but he would ride his fiery little pony at the biggest jump that his father ww T ould allow him to attempt, and as he grew older the groom often declared that for 'schooling' a young horse there was not the equal of Master Gabriel in the whole country. Once, when he saw a savage dog worrying a new-born lamb, he rushed, to defend the helpless animal, and not having even a stick in his hand, he could think of no way of making the dog relinquish his prey except that of catching him by the throat. Of course he was terribly bitten, but the lamb was rescued. To his mother's tearful reproaches, tho boy, scarcely ten years old at the time, only answered : ' I could not let him kill the poor lamb, you know.' When Gabriel had entered on hia thirteenth year his father considered that it was time to send him to college There were family traditions on such matters, and this was the age at which the young Sweynsons for many generations had usually entered the great Jesuit College of Saxonhurst So the time passed on and Gabriel was now eighteen and in the top class of the college His father began to think of his entrance into Sandhurst, and afterwards into the army That, too, was a Sweynson tradition , the oldest son always went into the army, at least for a few years The Easter vacation was nearly over, and Gabriel was to return to College for his last term. He was in the library, collecting some books which he wished to take back with him, when his father entered. ' Well, my boy,' ho said, ' this is the ending of your school life. You have made good use of your time, I must say Your masters seem all to be pleased with you ; but everything must end When you come home in summer we must think of getting a grinder to prepare you for Sandhmst You should enter there in September or October ' Gabriel paused with a great bundle* of books m his arms , then ho came slowly forward to the library table, and, lading them down, faced his father, his face pale and his lips trembling . 'Fathei, T don't want to go to Sandhurst,' he said. You don't want to go to Sandhurst ' Why not 9 ' ' I don't want to enter the army.' ' That is nonsense, Gabriel. Your old dislike of killing, T suppose ; but such consideratrons should not prevent a man from doing his duty to his country. Besides, there is no war now, nor any sign of one. Probably you will not be called upon to sheel any one's- blood during your few years of service. T don't want you to be a soUner all your life. When you are 22 or 24 you must settle

down near me and get married, that I may see my grandsons around me before I get too old and stiff to play with them.' Gabriel grew paler than before, but he pressed his lips together, and when he spoke his voice was firm enough. ' Father, I am sorry, so sorry to disappoint you, but— l want to be a priest.' ' A priest ! ' Anger, amazement, incredulity strove to find utterance in that one woid. ' Gabriel, arc you mad? You, the last of our race, the only Sweynson left in the male line ; the only heir of the family ! You cannot speak senouslv — you are only jesting ! ' ' Jesting on such a subject ! No, The way seems clear before mo ; I feel that 1 am called to a religious life. Father, do not fook at me so sternly. I sometimes wish, although 1/ kr^ow it to be a sin, that God had not chosen mo for this high office — that I could serve Him in the world. But it cannot be , I must follow Him in the way that He has appointed.' ' Have your masters ? ' ' No, never — quite the contrary. The rector spoke to me last year. He put everything before mo ; my* duty to you, my position as only son ; the hardships of a priest's life, the ignorance, coarseness, and \ ice which he has to encounter. He told me to reflect well, and to pray for guidance , not to mention the matter to anyone for twelve months, that perhaps during that time my ideas would alter Now, however, he recognises the reality of my ■vocation, and he said that 1 must speak at onco to you and to mv mother. That was before 1 came home this time, and all the vacation I have been trying to get courage to tell you, but i could not ' ' It would have been better if ,\ ou never had told me — if you had never troubled me by alludiut> to this msano project ' He put his hands on his son's shoulders and turned him towards the window. ' Look at these old trees, these woods, these meadows, these lands stretching far as your eyes can see , before Norman William set foot in England your ancestors hunted in these woods, were lords of this wide domain Will you wish all this to pass to strangers'? Will jou give up this fair inheritance ? ' ' Heaven is a fairer inheritance, father.' ' Heaven ? And cannot you win it by doing your duty here as your ancestors have done before \ou? In hea\en only for priests 7is the taking of religious \ows the only way to gain admission to it ° ' ' The only way for me, father There are many pathways, but the choice does not rest with us God has shown me the manner m which I must follow him.' ' This is follymadness ' 1 will not hear any more of it You are my son and you shall obey me 1 wish you to enter Sandhuist. Will \ou do as I desire you ? ' ' I cannotj' You cannot ' But I tell you that you can and shall ' If you do not, if you care to disobey, my curse ' As the youth sprang forwaul with an imploring cry, the door of the. library opened and Lady Gertiudo entered. At a glance she understood what had happened. ' You have told your father, Gabriel ? ' she said. ' You knew it, then "> You were aware of his mad scheme and you concealed it from me '? ' ' No, Eric, he only told me of it yesterday evening. I said that he must speak to jkii at once ' It would have been better if you had advised him not to trouble me with his insane folly, but to forget it. You knew that I should never consent, that 1 would not listen for an instant to such a plan ' I knew that you would not bu pleased.'

' Would not be pleased ! Is that all you say ? Is it possible that you do not understand what this means ? It would be the extinction of my race, the end of the Sweynsons. My God ! I cannot think of it with patience. I shall cry to forget it>, to fancy that it was a dieum. You, Gabriel, you shall go to Sandhurst, and as soon as possible. You shall not return to college. You have no right to dispose of yourself — you belong to me, to our family. I shall disown you, cast you off, load you — before God i swear it — With my hea\iest curse. Have I not a right to dispose of the life which I gave ? Are you not mine ? 'No ; not yours alone and altogether, Eric,' said Lady Gertrude, coming forward and putting her arms' round her son. ' You remember that' when Gabriel was born I would not accept the diamond coronet which you offered me, because it seemed to mo as if I should be selling some part of my rights over my child. Gabriel is my boy — mine more than e\er now— my life, my darling, and I will give him to God.' Sir Eric paused. He looked at his wife and son standing before him, the sunset light shining through the window behind them, and making a halo, like that which surrounded the fair locks of his angelic patron's pictured image m the oratory, round the v, outh h head. • Father,' said Gabriel. ' will you not consent '> Will jou not join with my mother in her gift 9 ' Sir Erie did not reply Out beyond these two lie gazed The sun sank below the hoi izon and a cold grey mist seemed to gather o\er the lawn and the. tiees, and to envelop them, so that the color and subsubstance died out oi them and they looked like the mere ghost s of dead far-ofT things. He turned his eves upwards towards the sky, and it was flecked with islands of purple and gold, swimming in an azuie sea. " lle.ucu is fairer than earth,' the young neophv to had said. Sir Ei ie stretched out Ins hand and silently laid it' on his son's bowed head. Then, sinking on his knees hy the lihraiy table, he bui ied his face in Ins hands —The 'Catholic Fireside.'