WHICH SHALL IT BE?

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 43, 27 October 1904, Page 23

WHICH SHALL IT BE?

I. Robert Merton threw aside his pen, leaned back in his easy-chair and gave a sigh of relief. Iliad his mood been a gayer one, he would probably have smikd , uuL in the last few months lie had had so little reason to smile that he couid express his satisfaction only by a deep sigh. Perha/ps the lines ?,-round his mouth a/id tihe furrows between his brows were rather less sharply defined than usual. Poor Roboit ! he had met witii many disappointments of late. The desk at which he was sitting was strewn with the sheets of a manuscript, the last page of which was not yet dry. The eye of the writer lested upon it with an exjwessio'n of mingled pxide and pleasure. After a moment's pause he once mlo>re took u<p his pen and wrote under „ the last line: '1 he End. Robert Merton. ' Then, glancing at an almanac that hung upon the wall, he exclaimed alouhl : 'It is finished, thank God, and a week before the time ' ' "He next took up a letter wliuh was lying among the sheets of paper, amd read it thtougjh for the second time. It ran thus : Dear Sir,— l am m,uch pleased with the first chapters of your novel, as aKo with the plot. It appears to be quite superior to any mamu script vvhilh you have submitted hitherto. But there is no time for delay The whole of your work must be m my hands by the 3Uth inst., so that, provided the remaining portion corresponds to the oipcning chapters', I inav give orders to begin printing it at once. May I therefore request you to bje punctual v It will not be difficult to come to an understanding as to terms. Yours faithfully, James 1 1 ay ward. ' Tonday is only the 23rU,' he said in a tone of triumph, regarding the closely-written pages .with a look which was almost aflectionate. He carefully arranged them in order, a/cording to tjhe number on each sheet, and wrapped up. the whole in brown paper. Then he once moie leaned back in his chair,, while his ga/e .wandered idly ovei the dull and dreary street until it icsted on the chimneys of the opposite houses'. He coulcl not repress a feclitng of onde at having been able to write as he had done, in spite of sMth mean ami depicssing surroundings. How easy it miusti be to give full play to the imagination in a comfortable home, amidst beautiful scerr'iy ' A slight sound m one corner of tihe small room arrested his train of thought. The expression of h.s features changed and hardened as, without tu.-Timg his head, ho said in a tone of cold severity : ' Leonard, come licre for a minute. I want you.' A boy of about eight or nine years ston filed slowly Oiiit of the corner and timidly approached his father, doing so with evident reluctance. ' Dada ' ' ho whisipeicd in a voice that might have belonged to a child of two. An impatient gesture of the parent, on "whose nerves the shrill accents of his little son evidently had a rasping effect, checked all further utterance He ca7Cd in silence at the boy — at the round, sta/nng eyes., in which expression was to<tallv Jacking , at the half-open mouth, and the thin hair which hung slparscly about his prominent forehead. Such was the 1 appearance of his "-on. What indeed was he but a hopeless idiot "' And there were persons who firmly believed in the doctrine of heredity ' The doo-, of the room was opened qu'ckly • the rustle of feminine skirts causod the expression of Robert's features to change as if by magic 1 Dear Helen,' he said in a tone of affei tiotaale reproach, ' how long you have been aww ' ' ' So you have really mussed me? ' renliewl his wife. She nad a large basket on her arm, and her dress was anythin"- but fashionable or smart. ' clammy, mammy ' ' exclaimed the boy in a plainlive voice, awkwardly stretobintr out his arms to his mouueir and clasping her rourd the knees. Sho soothed and kissed the child— oh, fo tmderlv ' 'Be quiet, darling ' ' phe said. ' See, mother has comrt hornp to Leonard. Be quiet, darling ' ' ' Only think, Helen, I have finished my hoo<V ' Ji has been accepted,' Robert announced, with 'Inning eyvs. " She hastened up to him and assurod him that she had alwav.s 1 known him to bo possessed of no ordmarv talents— to be, in fact, a real though undiscovered genius.

Eincouraged by the success" some short articles of his had met with in periodicals, RoT>ert Mertoa had been foolu-'ili enough to relinquish an appointment whi,dh although the salary was small, aftorded the family the means of livelihood, in o<sder to devote himself to writing, which ho deemed to (be his vocation. For the past ten ninths, however, their sole source of income had been the modest allowance made to Hielen by hex father. It would have been much more liberal had he not disaopiovui of her union with Robert, on the score of the latter 's inability to suppoxt a -wife. As a matter ot course, their ciicumstanccs had become exceedingly straitened of late ; yet their mutual affection had not been diminished by i-ae struggle they ha,d found themselves compelled to wage with poverty. An only child, Helen had quitted a homo in which s|io had enjoyed every comfort and many luxuries in order to marry the man of her choice. The suitors for her hand had been numerous ; for, althoti'gli her featuros were not regular enough for beauty, their expression was charming, and she was altogether a very attractno person. Moreover, her father was known, to possess a large private fortune. She had from tihe first endeavored to nvake herself acquainted with everything that the wife of a poor man ought to know ; and, since Uiey now had only her allowance to depend upon, who courageously dispensed with their cue m&i'd-servant, doing all l lie work, with the exception of the roughest, with her own hannls. On the piesei.t occasion she had just retiurnflid from a shopping expedition, and she proceeded to unpack the capacious basket she had brought with her into the room. La.stl of all she took out a brown paper paired, sayincj as she did so : ' Look, Robert, I have bought a packet of manu-s.:-ri|pt paper foe you, as I thought you must be wanting <-onie moie.' lAn excellent idea ! ' he rejoined. ' I have only a few sheets left. Now that the tide of our fortunes has turn Hi at last, we must set about finding a more suitable place of abode. You must not resign yewr post as minister of finance, for it is only your clever little head t,hat has kept the wolf from out door. Sit down and let me read yo»i the concluding portion of my novel I want to know if you tfnnk it ends 1 well.' Robert spoke witli almost boyksh eagerness. ' How innpaticnt you are ! ' she gaily retorted. 'If you forget that it is tea time, Leonard certainly does not ' ihe poor little fellow had been watching hie mother's movements with fixed attention. She stroked his head and forthwith disappeared into the adjoining apartment, which drd duty as kitchen. Ere long the clatter of cups and saucers announced that the preparations for their simple meal were going forward ; and wihc.n the table was spread in the sitting-room, Leonard hast'enod, to seat himself at it. The brighter mood of his parents had a sensible effect on him, thou\gh his clouded intellect could not have understood tihe causes of the change. He was extraordinarily sensitive as to the altitude of those about him in regard to himself ; ami wa.s perfectly aw&re that hiu father disliked him, in spite, of all that his mother could do to conceal the fact— which indeed was only too apparent. The want of toleration evinced by her husband concerning the deficiencies of their only child often caused her the deepest pain, notwithstanding her constant and persovenna; eflorts to find excuses for it— endeavors which were, however, generally unsuccessful, and more often Ihan not only served to irritate her husband. On this particular evening her mother's heart went out more than ever to her boy, arid her eyes were dimmed with tears while she undressed him (for he was as l^lplp^s aM a very vovna; child) arcl laid him down in his Mule bed in the. attic whore he slept. ' A Ins • ' she thought to herself, as she closed the tin cm: behind her, alter imprinting a tender kiss on his cheek and commending him to the rate of his g,ua"dian bjitrpl, ' wot ild thaiti I could 'do more for my toy ' Would that I could teach him to say his prayers, to loive and servo Ciod ! Is there no hope that Hhe dormant intelligence will one day awaken— that the reason, the soul, will Assert itself.'.' 0 Mo'tiher of Mercy, look i?i pitty o-i my poor boy, for the love of tihy Divine Son ! ' Lcrnard' -was not iv.holly an idiot. He was obedient and docile ; and his fond mother fancied his features assumed an expression of reverence when she madp (him cross himself or kneel beside her while sfte uttered a s/hoil: prayer on his behalf. She had also- taught him tio articulate a few words, but hevond this her efforts wore fruitless In the impossibility of ?Jiy religious training she met wieh no sympathy from the child's father. He had always called him.self a liberal C'atholi|! ;, and since his marriage, to Helen's great distress, 'he had gradually abandoned the practice of his religion.

IT. In spite of the fortunate t,urn that afiairs seemed to have taken, a \ag,ue sense of dread, an apprehension of something terrible about to happen, weighed upon Helen's mind as she descended line steep and narrow staircase which led from the attic to tine floor beneath occupied by the Mertons She had so lcng schooled her)self to appear cheerful in her husband's presence th^t he could detect no tiace of the depression she felt when she opened the door of the parlor wheic b. 2 was impatiently awaiting her. 1 WJut ! two candles, }ou cwlicuag-dnt man ' ' bhc exclaimed, playfully threatening him w n-li her foiehnger. 1 Wall, well ! ' ho said. 'On the fUengtili of my success you must be somewhat more indulgent now. Besides, 1 really cannot see to load my manuscript by such a poor light.' He had unwraippeti the manuscript and now began reading the concluding portion of it , while Helen, seatejd opposite to him, industriously phed her needle. Now and then her hands dropped into her lap as some passagp of thrilling interest arrested her attention. She was always a lenient critic, and not a very able one, it niiirst be confessed ; for her guts were those of the heart rather than of the head. When he had got U) tihe end he once more wrapped up the closely-written pages, sealing them with elaborate care. An hojur or two later stillness reigned in tic house, the lower part of which was inhabited by the landlady and her son. Mrs. Perkins kept a grocer's shop on the ground floor. Robert was still iai his first sleep when he was suddenly aroused by a sense of breathlessnesb, a feeling of suffocation. A co-nlusod murmur of voices fell upon his ear ; a few moments more and he distinctly heard the cry, ' Fire ' fire ! ' — a sound which strikes terror into the stoutest heart. Through the smoke which filled the apartment he discerned the motionless form of his wife, wlho was already half suffocated by the fumes. ' Helen, Helen ! ' he cried. There) was no am,swer>. Hastily throwing on his clothes,- he snatched her from the bed, wnapped a co\erlet round her, and bore his unconscious b/urq-en safely into the street ; for the staircase had not as yet been touched, by the flamevS Friendly neighbors took charge of her, and no sooner did he I /now her to be safe than an aIU-engroseiing thought took possession of his mind : '' My novel — my manuscript will be destroyed ' ' Tins one lWea excluded every other. Instantly he turned to re-enter the burning h'ouhe, though restraining hands strove to prevent him from rushing as it seemed to certain destruction. With almost superhuman strength ho wrested himself free from those who sought to detain him. Before he had reached the top of the stairs another thought struck him : ' The child, the child ' My novel, my novel ' ' he repeated, this time aloud. ' How can I save them both ? Which sili all it be '' ' It has been well said that when confronted with an unlooked-for emergency we are what we have made ourselves, since it is repeated action which prepares us for a sudden resolve. Neglect of religion had blunted Robert's moral sense ; it could scarcely be expected that ho would have a \ovy strict sense of duty. And now some demon seemed to whisper in his ear • ' It is impossible to rescue both : surely yo"u will save your manuscript, upon which your future and that of your wife depends, rather than a helpless, useless beine;, who is a mere encumbrance, and who has rendered your struggle for the meagis of subsistence all the more difhoult.' Robert had so often yielded to the suggestions of the evil one that he was unable to resist them now now. With frenzied force he hurled himself agiainst the sitting-room door, which at once gave way. The heat was well-nie;h intolerable ; for the oil and other inflammable materials which were stored behind the shop ha,d fed the fire, and short tongues of flame were beginning to appear here and there between the boarding of the floor. Half blinded by the smoke, he groped about the room, until after several futile attempts he ma^e his way to the &ide table where he remembered to have placed the brown paper parcel. Eagerly his hand closed on it Now how should he return 7 In passing the window, the panes of which were already shattered by the heat, he paused a moment to draw breath ; and a shout arose from the crowd assembled beneath as they caught a gilimpse of him amid the volumes of smoke rising from the doomed building. 'He has gone to s<ave his child ! He is risking his life for the half-witted boy ! Poor Leonard ! ' 'He has gone to save his child ' ' These words seemed to pierce him like a stab from some invisible dagger. He miade for the door of the attic where Leonard slept 1 , but before he could readh it a butst of

flame rendered further effort out of the question. With the instinct of self-preservation, he turned to leave the house. Where the staircase had been, now yawned a iiery, abyss. He felt that he was lost-lost together wiui the precious parcel in order to save which ho had sa>Tiliced his fhikl. He felt himself lifted up by strong arm* and borne, as it seemed to him, through the air. Then he altogether lost consciousness, and was not aware that, he 7' I>ein^ earned out of the burning house into that 01 vie same kind neighbor under whose roof his wife had ahead}- found shellei.

in. It was late on the following morning when Robert Morton a^okc At first his memory seemed to be a Wank a ,'id he could not remember anything that had happened. Wearily he raised his hand to his aching head, and found that both it and his hand were bandaged. He sat up on the bed and saw nis wife seated by the dressing-table, her whole frame shaken by. sobs, which she vainly strove to repress. 'In an instant a flash as it wore of lightning revealed the whole situation to him, He lived o\*r again the agonising moments he had passed in the burning house ; he recalled the aw hit alternative he had been obliged to face— the monsitrous nature of the act he had connmitited in aba,nidoninig his own oirts.pring for the sia-ke of gaining possession of a manuscript. The grief of the bereaved miotaier overwhelmed him with remorse and self-roproach. ' Helen, 0 Helen ! ' he groaned in a faint voice. In a moment she was kneed ing at the side of the bed, while tears chased one another down heir cheeks. ' Robert, my dearest husband, with all my heart I thank (Jod that you at least are left to me ! ' This was too nui'h for the conscience-stricken man. 110 could more easily ha\e home reproaches, even taiunts, than fhe sight of this overpowering sorrow, the sound of these woi,ds of tenderness. ' ().ur child, our Leonaid "" ho gasped. ' Oh, o-ur darling boy '' she sobbed. ' But, Robert, you ha\e the comfort of knowing that you did all in you,r power to save him ; and he is far happier now Man we could ever have made him.' She could say no more, but burieti her face on the coverlet. ll all distraught, her rmshand gazed at her. Should he tell her everything everything,? No, 1 hat he could nevei do , he. could not shatter her idol,— he could not rob her of her idol. For he was aware that she loved him almost before she knew whaX love reially* wasi ; that her 1 g,uiisih imagination had made him into a hero ; and Hhati a hero he had remained in her eyes in spite of fret Fulness and discontent which had made him no very pleasant companion He looked round the familiar apartment which he miust soon quit, though where to find a refuge he did not k,now The realities of life forced themselves nnon his attention, putting an end to his gloomy meditations*, 110 evoied an object which he fancied he recognised , he hekd his hire aft h. and looked again,— yes, he was not mistaken : there lay the precious parcel ! 'My manuscript !' he cried joyously, forgetful of what, ho had beejn guilty. ' It is q-'utc safe, dearest '' said Helen, making an effort to control herself, and delighted to see ihat Robert's thoughts had taken a more cheerful turn. ' My novel !' he repeated, stretching out a trembling hand She ro^e from her knees and gave him the parcel. ' Yoiu had hidden it under your coat,' she said, as phe watched him tenckrly stroke the soiled, smokesi aine/d packet before attempting to unfasten the spring. Hi 5 ? hand shook so violently that he was obliged to abandon his task. ' Let me undo it for you, dear : you are very weak.' He leaned back on the pillow a,nd closed his eyes. 110 heard Helen go 1o the window, draw back' the curtains, and remove the wrapper, from the manusfcript. For a few minutes there was absolute silence. 'Is it legible ?) he queried at length. ' Read me a paragraph i£ you can decipher the writing.' She hesitated to reply and he grew uneasy. ' Do please tell mo to what extent it is damaged,' he entreated, sitting up on the bed She stood opposite to him with tihet packet in her hand, the expression of hcr"^eatures being so sad that his eyes were riveted upon hex face. ' O poor Robert,— my poor, poor Robert !' ' What is it,— what is it, Helen ?' he demanded, springing; from the bed and staggering to her side. With one hand she endeavored to keen him off, wilh the other to conceal the parcel behind he<r foacik. With a rapid movement he snatched it from her. One brief

glance he cast upon the pages—then there broke from his lips so terrible a cry of rage and despair that she shrank away from him and held her ears. "What he had saved was blank paper ; his manuscript had perished in the flames ! After the first oufb/urst of disappointment and despair,, Robert appeared to grow calm. Without uttering a word, he drew a chair to the table and sat .^down. Plopping his head upon his hands, he stared •\acantly at the sheets of blank paper before him. r I hey seemed to mock his misery. Helen, ahuincd at the impression of gloom and despon,deucy which his features assumed, endeavoied to console him. JShe rose and stood by him. ! ' Come, Robert,' s-It said, ' take courage. God, Who hab allowed this misfortune to befall us, will help us out of it. As she spoke she laid her hand caressingly on his Shoulder. lie pfoook it off angrily. IGo away ! 'he cric-d, ' Leave me alone ! ' 'Do not send me away,' she replied. ' Take this curx of coffee that the landlady has brought you.' ' You are to go away. I want nothing.. I told you to! leave me ' ' he repeated, raising his hand with a gesture of command. Finding Helen did not quit his side, Robert suddenly Sip rang, up and, taking her by the arm, put her out at the door. She heaid the key turn in the lock ; and though sne knocked a-nd begged to be readmitted, no answer was given. Hearing her name called at tha,t miomemt from below, she descended the stairs, in the hope of finding a kindly neighbor to whom sTie could communicate her apprehension— the tenor she felt lest her husband should commit some ra^h act ; "what that might be she dared not flunk. Robert, left alone, stared wildly around the room. It was an apartment in a hoi.se near their former lodgings. Tnc occupant happening to be away, it had been placed at the disposal of the Mcrtons on the night, of the fire. Rage, self-reprotuh, despair filled the mind' of the unhappy man ; the evil spirit, to whom he had too often listened, now whispered in his ear: 'Whvnot putt, an end to this miserable life Yaur newly-found hopes a^e all blasted ; nothing but wretchedness, beggary, is before you. Why not take an easy way of escape ? ' He looked lound for some means of self-destruction. Hi^s eyes rested on a crucifix hanging on the wall. The pathetic expression of the sacred countenance arrested his attention and diverted him from his thoughts of suicide. 1 Sec,' iti seemed to say, ' "what I, tihv Lord and God, siufiered for tihee ; and thou dost rebel against the suffering thou hast deserved. Thou hast neglected, foisaken Me, yet I have not forsaken thee In mercy I spared thv'hfc last night, to give thee time for repentance. Behold Me now, tiny compassionate Saviour, ready to pardon thee. Wilt thou eomrel Me to condemn thee, by hastening unsummoned into the presence ot tny Judge ? ' Then Robert's letter self awoke ' I am a coward,' he muttced— ' a selfish, godless fool. What would have "become of me if I had perished in tho fire last night, like the poor child I cruelly abandoned to his fate f A worse fire— the names of hellwould have been my portion. I desene the p'uKishment that has overtaken me ' At that moment iuirricd stops were heard outside. ' Robert, open the door ! Let me in, for heaven's sake. 1-I*l W]M*TS It was 1 his wife's voice that spoke ; b»it other persons were with her, a,nd Robert, in his ncwly-awaikemed shame and contrition, shrank from admitting strangers. But Helen repeated her anxious entieatics , and when a stronger hand than hers threatened to force an entry, ho -unlocked viUe door without further hesitation. Helen threw herself into her husband's arms, hysterical laughter mingling with her tears He felt as if in a dream, and could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses ; tor behind his wife towered the tail torm of old Mrs. Perkins, the landlady, who was liokhng Leonard by the hand ' Hastily releasing himself from Helen's embrace, Robert darted toward his little son ; he hugged him close, he kissed and fondled him as ho had never done befo-e. 'At first the boy was utterly bewildered ; then an unmistakable look of pleas<uie overspread hte usually inexpressive countenance— a look such as all his mother's tender, wiles had never been able to crnmre up. She stood by in silence meanwhile, contemplating the unwonted spectacle. Ever prone to reproach herself, ever anxious to acquit her husband of blame, she was' secretly Saying to herself : ' Alas, bow unjust I <ftavo been to him ! How blind T was not to discover his affection for our child ! ' She proceeded to relate to Robert an account of. Leonard's rescue.

loung Perkins, A lad about sixteen years of ace was really fond of vhe Half-witted child. He" pitied him, and often protected him from the attacks of boys in the street, who delighted to tease him and make him the butt of their rough and merciless jokes He had seen Robert carry his wife out of the burning hmise and, thinking he would not have time to save the dhiui also, he had dashed up the stairs, guided by the terrified scream*, which proceeded from the attiD, and was ]ust ablo to snatch Leonard from his bed, carrying him acroo^ the little gardou. at the back of the toouse and out into a side street, where he confided his helpless chai.ge to a woman who was a friend o£ bis iriothet William was s-panng of his words, but always ready -to act when occasion required. Like most people who pertorm heroic deeds, he was quite tine on scions of having done anything remarkable on the night of the lire and appeared somewhat ashamed when Helen lavished on him thanks and praise. ' AH our sorrow is now at an end, since God has preserved our child to us in so marvellous a raanner ' she said, as she finished the tale, a »d repeatedly kissed her restored treasure. Robert listened without interrupting her Then after a short pause, he said, in a voice " which trembled a nule in spite of his ottorts to steady it : ""'' ' ' My dear wile, you have always been my good angel hitherto : bo my good angel still, and teaxh> mfe^o#ta return v 0v 0 (»od, who has been so merciful to'fis -M' Whom I have forsaken so long. - ' .f. f ■ Her heart was too full for speech ; she strove in vain to imci words ; a motion of the head was the only sign of assent she cCuld give, while happy tears glisten od m her eyes. b We must now return to more prosy matters ' Robert resumed. ' There is still a week before the day when I havo t 0 send in my manuscript. If you will see that I am not interrupted, and if my memory dopsnot play, me false, I will write my novel over again ' With feelings of pride, Helen watched her Husband as he took his seat at the table and drew a sheet of paper, toward him. With his right hand, which the flames had spared, he inscribed upon it in clear, firm characters the words : ' Chapter the First '— ' Aye Maria.'