II.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 44, 3 November 1904, Page 23

11.

All too soon, according to Misis Sarah, the ' 'day arrived that was to introduce itll'O the Brys,on mansion the \isitor whose expected coming was, she said, enough to make her Puritan ancestors ' turn in their graves.' But ha,d the lady known what the miorning would bring, oven she would not have worried oiver So small' a matter as an unwelcome dinner guest. Mr. Bryson awoke sio listless that he did not rise ; and the physician, being hastily summoned, warned the family that Ithe illness from which the patient suffered had made alarming headway during ihe last Jew weeks. 'Howover, with rest a.nd quiet, he may be better again,' said the doctor, hopefully. George Bryson had long been a widower. He had loved his wife as a man of his strong, reserved nature loves ; and now his affection was centred in their only chiLd, Frank, who, grown to maahood, was at present thiß actmg| manager of the mills.

When Miss Sarah was not travelling abroad she looked after t\he ways of the household. In her absence Margaret, a faithful servant, apparently did as well in keeping tihe domestic machinery running ymoothly ; but Mr. Bryson, considerately, never let MiS-s-Sar-ih imagine that he thought sio. While she deplored her brother's indisposition, Mi t s Sarajh also felt that the untoward circumstance had aaved the name and Same of her people 'Providence has cancelled the dinner engagement,' she soliloquist , and her air said as triumphantly ihat Provitfeace was always on the side of line Bryaans. Jbad any other guest been bidden, she would ha.c told Frank that hospitality forbade him to retract the invlt-'aCtion to\a simple iamily meal.. But even her ciuu-osit^'-iji regard to her choice bit of faience riid not counted balance her dread of. Roinanisirh J and she sent a noto to the priest, informing him of her brother's illness anti consequent inability to receive him. The first impulse of gentle, kindly Father Glern -was to pay a short call of sympathy upon the man whose sterling qualities had evoked his adnujjation. After second thought, however, ho contented himself with writing a. lew lines l\o Mr. Bryson, expressing rcgrot fox his 11 In ass ajnd the hope tihat his convalescence would be rapid: -And then he forgot all about Miss Sarah's to 0 apparent antagonism,. For, unlike the young minister of the yellow meeting-house, the pastor of St. Pat-ricks-eared not at. all what the women of Bryson township ihought of him, so long as he knew he was doing his duty. His tenure of office did not depend upon uheic '\vhini.> and fancies. Bfcfaro the end of ,the month it became evident that Gerqrge Bryson's useful life was drawing to its close. Ho had, always loved the prospect of the valley that l.is house commanded, and, accordingly, his couch was p-laceQ near a window of his sleep in g-roomi, which c< nnected with the study. One night as he lay restless his mind ran upon many things. What a strange awakening it must b-e to find the intellect and spirit as strong as ever and the body neanng the point of dissolution ' Uo we need other proof of the immortal it^ of the soul ? Frank, the active, clever business man of thirty, sat on the divan at the foot of. the bed, his face buried in lii^ hands. The Jelc-rtric hgilrt was shut ofT, hurt the rrr,oorebeams shone uito the rcvom. George Bryson, turning on his pillow, looked out upon t^e calm autumnal sky, the distant hills- that wcieas dark clouds at the horr/on, the indistinct masses of tho trees,, the spire whose, cross now seemed merged Into the sky. 1 Frank,' he said at length, ' all the village lies m fi/had,ow, but in that church down there a h&hh is burning,' Frank rose and ga'od out of the window. 1 1 see no light, sir,' he replied. A .£r.. ;JfyEysprv smiled to himself. ' JS&tfier do I,' he admitted'; ' but I know it is tihere.'' La~st winter, boy, when you weie away on that business trip, and before I was stricken down, I oflen went into Boston to the theatre. It was when I was coming home, frequently at (midnight, that I notucd the lraht. 'lhe first time that I saw tihe faint glow like an incipient flame I thought the clvureh was on fire anJ was on Hie point of ringing the doior bell of the priest's house to arous-e him. But not a puff of smoke cam6ffrom tfte church. I walked around, it and fopnd all secure ; yet I was not satisfied. The windows arc not high above the grouttd, and several are still iilled with plain glass. 1 stood on the stone coping beneath one- of them, drew myself up, to the saslh, and looked in. What r thought to be^the bfgjnning. of a condagration was a steady hght, ftke" a star poised in mid an. As I let myself 'down to the ground again I remembered Ao have seen the same thing abroad— a golden lamp suspended from the r o of ol the chancel and kept burning by day also. Why is it kept burning ? ' 1 1 do not know, sit,' replied Frank, indifferently ; 1 unless it! may <be a yotive taper like the^ hundreds one sees before any legendary shrine of Italy ' ' No • this is a single lamp, a<nd it hangs tefonrelnc main altar. Who can tell me about it ? Ah, yes, Margaret ! What a woman she is for going to chunn^ Wlßtec or summer, ram or shine, she is oft to ' Mass, as she *ays, before seven o'clock every Sunday morntncf I'll ask her about the light to-morrow.' The next day, before Frank departed for the mills, Maxearet was summoned. [ • I would rather talk to her while you are here,' George Bryson Said to hrs son. ' The very mention of tho Roman Church, '/ rilos " Sacah, so to speak.' Margaret) came, prepared to render some domestic .ißSlptwpc. Mr. BrysQji had always been considerate of his "servants, if in a somewhat lordly way ; and now in hisiast days she wotild willingly, as s>he said in her warm-hearted fashion, serve him witto franti and foot ?j)d oil bended knee, if necessary.'

lindeed, it was on her knees that, perhaps, slbe served him best. That the family, so solicitous in all el^e,, were, s.o callous in regard to the spiritual welfare of the beloved o«e so fast slipping away from them 1 , inexpressibly shocked her simple faith ; and daily, in her plain lit t Jo attic loom of the luxurious house," with airdont Irish piety did she pour forth her prayer that (iod would deal gently with the master, ' because, poor man, ho 1 nows no better t ' Now, when the invalid put to her , the. query tiiat bad long haunted his thoughts, she was ready enough wnu her answer. 'It is the sanctuary lamp, 3ou mane, sir,' sihe said, in her rich brogue. ' Sure it is kept burning before the altar to know that the Blessed Sacrament is there, do you sco" Ihe light represents the devotion of the faithful. Since we must go. about our worik, or to rest at night, it is put there that its flame may be as the prayer of our hearts, a perpetual act of adoration, sir.' 'A beautiful custom, Margaret,' acknowledged George Bryson. ' But what is the Blessed Sacrament ? ' ' 'lhe Lord HimseJl, sir, waituig tiiere for us to go to Him with our troubles or our joys, or willing to come to us if we be sick or helpless.' Frank, walking up and down the floor, tried to make a digression by wlhichw I hich the woman might be dismissed. But George Bryson wan tad to hear more. Uneducated in s<pceoh, and just able to read alrtd write her name, Margaret, neAcrt'heless", was not ig,norant of her reiigjion, and her explanations were clea,r aftd s'ifijplc. ' Do you really believe tnis ? ' asked, the mill-owner when she had finished. 1 Faith am' I do,' the answered, fervently. ' Does Father Glenn roally believe it ? ' 1 'Deed if he didn't he 'might as well be out of St. Patrick's I ,' was her energetic reply. ' But more nor the likes of mo and him, the great Doctors of the Church, thim that spinels their lives in the study of the Scriptures an' all l«(no,wled|ge — they believe like the little children you see going to the altar for the first time. \ow ha\c seen the children yoXirself, sir, maybe' the boys wearing a wihitc badge over their hearts, and the gtrls all in white. like little guttering doves ? ' 1 Thank you, Margaret ; you may go,' said Mr. Bryson, closing his eyes. And Marg.aret, aftpr straightening the counterpane and giving one or two ordeily touches to the vroom, stolo away with disappointment in her heart. ' Suit talking so to the likes o' thim is Worse nor casting peai ls before swine,' she muttered to herself as she hurried back to the kitchen ' Well, we are all in Gio'd's hands ; and as the master has hot tben hard on others, may lie be good to him ' ' 1 Fiank,' remarked Mr. Bryson diiritig t|he following night (for his son watched with him dainng tihe hours when the world sleeps)— 1 Frank, what Margaret said was \ery condoling, , don't you tfiink so ? ' All tihe prejudices of the younger m»an were aroused by the question. Bitter, wordsi of unbelief rose to Jlis h]>s, but he suddenly checked them. His failher was) tt o ill to discuss this matter, therefore he answered evasively ' It scorned to me quite mediaeval, sir.' 1 Vet, if it is not true, then these Catholics tihink of God as being more merciful, more compassionate, moic perfect than He is, and that would be impossible , whereas, if it is true, how different life, death, everything becomes when viewed from this standpoint ! It is true ' Frank, at daylight I want ycAi to send for Father Glenn.' ' But, sir—' George Bryson raised himself in bed with an effort. 1 My son, 1 shall presently yield utp to you, absolutely, tix mills, my fortune, this house even,' he se.»d in a clear voice, l but to my last breath 1 shall cling to that possession to retain which oiur ancestors cropped fhe seas— liberty of conscience. If you interfere with my freedom to do as I will, may the Brys-om wealth and the honor of the Bryson name shrink in your har.ds until they amount to nothing ! ' Ho threw himself back exhausted. ; and the startled son, falling' upon his knees beside the bed, sob|b(d as he strove to soothe tho excitement he had unwittingly caused. ' Father, father, forgive me. Your every wiah shall bo obeyed.' A few days later the Brys<o*i Mills shut down for 36 hanrs, though the operatives were informed they would be paw* as usttal ; tho.belks of the- meetin-g-h^yse tolled at irecjuent intervals ;• ■JRje.flaß.'On .£«©, libra^ floated at half-mast ; and, unknown' to the village, -e£*ly that morning Father Glenn had offered the Holy Sacrifice for a soul newly summoned to give an account „ of its stewardship. For George Bryson, the wealthy manufacturer^ tne public benefactor, was no more. The light