The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXII, Issue 45, 10 November 1904, Page 23

The Storyteller

AN ATLANTIC EPISODE

It was die in st ocean \oyage of mother and daughter and Miss Waldion, aged twenty-five, found it no win I harder to restrain her excitement than Mrs. Waldion, seventeen yeais iiei senior. 11ns trip to Europe na«J been the dream of botli their lives, and the expends thereof had been saved by many sacrifices. Indeed, uiey had not dared to let their dream come true too soon, but tor a friend with influence in high places, who assured the Wald'ons that Matilda would, without doubt, secure a speedy promotion from grammar school to high school teacher it, in addition to certain special courses which she had been taking during the past few ysars, she would spend her summer vacation in studious' visits to European educational centres. As Matilda would not go without her mother, Papa Waldron had magnanimously offered to close the little house in the Highlands and boaid in town with Aunt Maria during the ten weeks' absence of his wife and daughter. So, with his urgency, and all scruples dissipated by the prospect of speedily bettered fortunes, mother and daughter fared forth like two children on a holiday. As a family the Waldions \\tne singularly unworldly, with kindly hearts to every creature, and unexpectant of any measure save that winch they would mete. The intending tra\ellers had talked their trip over many tunes, and prepared themselves for the pleasant things which might happen. They had resolved to be so ' natural ' that the mo»t penetrating would not suspect how awfully new and strange were the b* oad ocean and the luxuries of a fust-class passage. But after papa had left them, with a lottle of champagne discreetly covered with fieth fruit in the bottom of a basket, as a preservative against seasickness, and they had sent back to him a loving letter from Minot's Light, they saon began to icahse that their actual or possible experiences were of no moment to the gay and stylish family groups and paLties of lriends who crowded the decks ot the ' Columbia.' Two slight, simply dressed and timid women whose straitened circumstances and unfanuliarity with the ways of the world ' stood out all over them,' as a ricli and slangy girl who vouchsafed them a passing glance, phrased it, were more than likely to be left se\erely to themselves , though Matilda would iesign with unnculty some dreams too young for her yeais, oi pleasant friendships made on shipboaid, and a more interesting logbook for her father than the record of mere 'ounds of meals and dot k piomcnades, the occasional sighting of a steamer, and the enteriamment for the Sailors' Orphans' Home, on the second last evening out '1 hey were lingering in the delight of a glorious sunset, after most of their fellow-passengers had cone down to dinner, when Matilda noticed an elderly and infirm-look-ing man sitting quite alone, a few yards away tiom them, and gating absently out to sea She attracted her mother's attention. 'Poor old gentleman ' lie seems to be of as little account as ourselves among all these rich people,' she said softly, ' and he certainly does not look fit to travel alone.' The mother echoed her daughter's compassionate sigh. ' But he might rese-nt our sympathy,' she said, with characteristic difhdenee. So, for delicacy, they went by on the other side. But the following morning, as they were taking a turn on deck before breakfast, they saw him again, in the same place, and in the same dejected attitude They lingered this time with sympathetic eyes on the old man, who seemed oblivious to all about him. ' You speak to him, Matilda,' urged Mrs. Waldron. ' Oh", mother, you know best what to say.' 1 There, like a" good girl ' Young poople can do anything.' And thus adjured, Matilda crossed the deck. ' Good morning, sir,' she said, gently. 'If you are alone, as we ft.te,~ perhaps we might* all go down to breakfast together.' He turned quickly. Were there tears in his dim and deep-sunken eyes ? ' I will be v bad company ; 1 am rather hard of hearing,' he answered/ ' and none too well , but— if I don't bore you—' ' Nonsense ' ' exclaimed the young woman, cheerfully. 'We also are strange v s in this crowd, and we'll be delighted to have you with us. 1 Then, ' let me present my mother, Mrs. Waldron.' His bow was perfect in its old-fas<hiondd courtesy. ' Mr. Maloney,' he responded to the unspoken auestion. In the saloon, the head waiter assigned these three obscure people who wished henceforth to sit together to the end of a iar table ; and between her kindly attentions to the lgnely old invalid, and the satisfaction of

her own healthy appetite, Miss Waldron enjoyed the distant glimpses of elog,ant people at tables adorned with me costly floral offerings of the friends who had seen them off. On the se'vcn succeeding days she devoted herself wliole-hcariedly to the entertainment o& their infirm fellow-traveller, giving him her stiong young arm as he slowly paced the deck, with her, reading, betimes, to bun and tier mother iiom some amusing book, and anon, diverting his nuriU with stories of her Hebrew and Italian school children, now in the most interesting phase of tiieu nidMii-!, into Auiqi leans. Sometimes, too, because he was so sympathetic, she would talk to him of the puiposc ot iiei nip, and lieu hope soon to make hlc easier for her lather. He told the Waldrons he would leave them at Quoenstown No one would meet him there. He meant to take his relatives by surprise, he added. A sad sur-piu-e, thought the kindly woman, to those who had known him in happy days. '1 hey weie on deck at six o'clock to bid him farewell an I enjoy their first sight of the 'beautiful Irish shoies. His eyes were misty as he pressed the hands of mother and daughter at parting. ' \ od'll never lack the friend in need, my child,' he said to Matilda ; and she reverently bent her graceful head at his feivent ' God bless you ! ' When the tug was beyond their farewell signals 1 , she reached for tin* card he had slipped into her mother's hands. ' Air Michael Maloney,' she read, adding : ' Just a poor loncl old Irishman going home to die.' ' 1 k gu(sse.d that from, the first,' rejoined 4he mother, 1 but he must have been a long time in America ; for lie has no accent, and seems laminar with c\e:y part of the count iv His time is short, I fear, but you can have the satisfaction of knowing that you brightened a lonely week for him.' In the subsequent excitement of travel and study, the conscientious client to make e\ery moment and every penny yield their utmost to the ambitious young teacher, the sad old returning exile was forgotten. September saw the travellers at home again, with note-books and memories crammed and strength renewed. Bui, alas ' clouds are wont, to follow fast on life's gleams of sunshine, and they found the husband and lather scnously ill, of a disease which for many months demanded uni emitting care and expensive medical treatment The piomise of the influential fuend failed them, and the coveted promotion went to a "young lady who boasted among her intimates that she had no need to woik tor her living, her school meant just pocket money ! Oh, for the ease with which good fortune is bettered ! Oltcn dining the hard and anxious winter following, Matilda and her mother sighed tor the 500 dollars so recklessly lost, as it now seemed, in that too confidently ventured trip to Europe. 'i he balmy June days had come before Mr. Waldron's danger was past , but the physicians protested against his resuming work without a few months' change of air. 1 Poor papa never had a vacation m bus life,' sighed Matilda, ' and to think of his toiling in the city all last summer long while we were oti on that unlucky tun.' 'Iheir small savings had long ago been exhausted. The younir teacher's salary was always spent before it was earned, anl there were debts— a trouble unknown befoie. The convalescent was and listless He was ten yeais older than his wite, and nearly thirty years of monotonous and poorly paid clerical work had told on him Agonist his unselfish will, he craved the change whi'h it would be hard to bring about. ' We might raise something on the houw,' suggested Mis Waldrcn, in a conference on ways and means with her daughter We must get enough to pay off our i^'Ae debts and make your father comfortable at Crescent Beach for Ihe summer.' The tinkle of the bell broke on their planning and Matilda rose to answer it. Her parents, sitting in the long twilight, wondered at her delay. The front door closed at last on the departing caller and Matilda returned to the dining-room and lit the lamp. ' Head it,' she snd, extending a paper to her mother. Her ey r es shone but her voice trembled. It was an excerpt from the will of the late Michael Maloney, of Cork, Ireland, bequeathing to Miss Matilda Wald-on, of Poston. 200 shares of stock in the C.V. Railroad, a total of 20,000 dollars at fi per cent. ' in remembrance of her kindness to an old and uninteresting stranger, and to help her carry out her plans for the comfort ot her father in his declining years.' ' The gentleman who just called, and who will return to meet you both to-morrow, is the lawyer in

charge of certain of Mr. Maloney's interests in America. He tells me tnat the old gentleman was immensely rich, and has left large bequests to religion and charity both in New England and m his native land, besides doing well by his relatives. Rut why should nc have thought of me ? ' continued Matilda. ' Anyone would have done as much as 1 did for him. Of course, as his lawyer said, he vas rather ecccntnc, as well as generous. We saw the eccentricity of the dear old man for ourselves.' ' There s only onf explanation, ' said ihe mutlLi Oorl put. it into the man's heart to be tie Luni m need which he pronu-ed you at parting.' And ' Cod rc^t his ni'ndly soul,' oft pravrd thelili'e household, as health ,came back wilh prosperity to it*, beloved head. — ' The Holy Family .'