The Storyteller MARGARET DREW

New Zealand Tablet, 6 September 1906, Page 3

The Storyteller MARGARET DREW

The - village-^! ,Kilbeg stands on a sloping eminence clfted streets fS^Lt*? l0ng " Streets > or 'may be the road^onti^w *° f a more a PP r oP"ate name, for a^?i tlactor 1S a person unknown in this disings^r windows have been robbed of thei? flnelv S s ape S aSS eS ar e S °ii?L a \ w ° Ca T^ trace lou-ndang this grim ruin stand scattered - tombstones Jent'amiS 5 snH^/ 10^' and disfigured ; F&t&FS&JS d r em |S tiffi disclose- the- fact of recent. burial, and here and there a marWy wreatJi, hideous .in its stiff : parody of na ! ture, still bespeaks remembrance *' of the mouklerfne flolVSlv^in S^ ° f thistleS andXnSSf S- ifini?nn %~ li * u ™ mer aFr > and sinks sloiwly WAeie it ,will to propagate its species. There is no nroSSKSSf" *°- Sa f e bteds ot **** from the desecration of animals,, and where our feet reverently stay t?nn r +1 te ?y V:e "T, the J^mexks of the £72 ' lowed spot ' c a unwitUn S l y trespassed' on'ttas 'barThe two streets, pr double lines -of houses wbich constitute the yiUage'.ot Kilbeg, stand a^ih™gJes to each -other, the old ruin forming their point of junction, and from this point we may survey the un- - 1 !, +v S ands . Ca P c rich in pastoral" beauty. Close beside the churchyard and separated from the poorer dwellings by a rough stone wall, Mauds an old ho-use, 'tall and strong, covered with ivy and showing in the'tioli- - shod -brasses of its front door and its shining windows , traces of a care that comes from ancient gentility and natural -refinement. There is a quaint air' about the place, the very -knocker, of the door being a relic of -the^ taste of former generations, as is the dainty pat- ■ tern wrought in the brass- enclosure of -the old bell handle. It is a ~very_ large house, much too •■ lares for its present occupant, old Margaret Drew, -or ' JMiss -Margaret,' as she is familiarly called by the villagers some o$ whom remember her as a -young girl - the -youngest pf a long family. The memory of her fath- _ er, Dr. Djrcw, is still cherished lovingly h)y these old people, as that of a staunch . friend and liberalminded man. Miss Margaret lives here alone' with one servant, who isjcept'busy answering the door to many callers, for many are they who need Miss Margaret's help,, whether it be in substantial form or as> advice She as a truly spiritual being-, her face bearing the reflex of a mind that dwells on higher things than might be suggested by her sordid surroundings. And yet these very surroundings help her, too. She sees in the poor, the bjeloved of Christ ;"• the animal creation and the little feathered tribe of which she is so fond are to her the gifts of God, -to .be treated kindly for the-ir- use and for the pleasure 'they afford. Many a poor, starving cat, driven away, from other -habitations, finds here a refuge and a meal. Birds build * their nests in her large garden, and rear their little ones 'in security and peace. As fp_r the poof, it is said that •Margaret spoils them, and. Bridget, her capable servant, is obliged to lock away her -daintier stores so that -the .mistress may not - bestow them where simpler fare may suffice. _ But Bridget . shares her mistress's kind heart, and willingly undertakes the making of soups and tempting* viands for the sick, and above all, that panacea for every ill according to the rustic mindblack currant jam. - Its reputation is famous as a cure for coM and sore throat, but the variqfus other ills it has, cured •in this village is perfectly marvellous. All the little Michaels and Paddies and Marys, who have placed themselves within the range of Miss Margaret's vision and 'been told to 'Go round, my dear, and Bridget will give* you a pot of black-currant jam '— can testify to this fact. . ....

I could dwell long on Margaret Drew's kindness, for I have experienced -it many<-a time, tout, l must hasten on to tell the stoiy which I heaud from her, and which will show how deep was the confidence reposed in her^ not only by her .poorer neighbors, but by those of her own class who also loved her. IL ~ ■; About two miles from the village "of Kilbeg stands - a fine old manor , house, within, a large demesne, that contains much grass land, amply furnished with splendid timber. As we stand beside the old ruin on the top qf the hill, we can see only the far extending!, woods that completely Jtiide the dwelling of their 1 owner, which we can tocate merely by. the thin curls '.of , smoke- that form so Ttnany spirals in the air, telling of the warmth * and comfort' withdn. In truth, it is a noble house, and one of which Sir Joseph Arton may be justly proud. His family "have dwelt <foer-e for," .generations,' .. and until recent years it was the happiest homestead in the country. But some .five years ' beforemy story opens, Sir Joseph had lost his wife by one of thqse swift strokes of Providence that leaves, the smitten heart stunned and dazed, - till time .gently raises the heavy burden, and draws aside the darkening "veil, showing- us the world /as it wasv. and painting, to the .daily duties so long neglected. ' Thus it was with Joseph Artom. ;He must- rouse himself for the sake of his lonely boy, a 'bright intelli)g)wnt lad 'of fourteen l wbo moped about the place, desolate and keenly sensitive to his loss. -He had no heart to ride his pony, and but for the mute appeal in his dogs' eyes, would have stayed altogether in-doors. . His father seemed to be forgetful of "his presence, but Margaret - Drew, then many years younger, pitied ,the_;.boy -in his cheerless ■ home, -and 'would -tramp the two miles , from Kilbeg on many an afternoon to coax him back with her an various- pre- ' tences. - , .... • The hen-coop is ,broken, Harry dear, 'and. Bridget is not clever at hammering nails '—or ' The clematis is loose from the wall, and we are afraid to mount the ladder. Do, come, like a dear boy, and help its,' she would say. And Harry, shrewd enough to know that these were mere excu?«s on the part of his kind friend, would" 1 nevertheless yield to her entreaties. "He would, icome back cheered and consoled,' and if he cried himself to sleep that- night -his tears were all the less bitter for the sweet love of Margaret Drew. One early autumn day, Sir Joseph awoke from his longf trance of despairing lethargy, and 'climbed the hill to 'take counsel with., his old friend. /Margaret .watched him from her "window, and went to' open the front 'door herself. He came ,in with outstretched hands, saying : ' Margaret, how selfish I have Keen ! Forgetful of you and everyone else, even my own boy And', how goad you have been to him ! ' •' I loved her,' Margaret said simjply. . ' And -why should I not love you two, whom she loved ? ' That was all, but he, understood. Sitting in her ,q,uiet presence, inhaling _ the fragrance of late roses and bunches of sweet lavender care--fully tied with ribbons about her room, Joseph Arton ~ v felt tihe influence of her contented nature, afttt his hefort opened in response ~ to the sympathy of - her kind eyes. - • ■ ' Joseph,' she said after a while, 'you -must do ' -something for Harry. You must send him to school. ' A 'boy of his age requires oompamonship, and how- ' ever hard ' the separation will be for yourself, you will not shrink from your duty, I know.' " -- •' It u will be' ,hard, Margaret, but I shall do as you - . say. Strangely enough, though, I came to tell you another, piece of news which rather bears upon the question. You remember my poor brother, Tom ? Well, I have received news this - morning of his N widow's death, leaving aft'oy of about Harry's age. I must gooff by . .the, night mail to attend the funeral, and I suppose I had better bring the boy back with -me. He will be a companion for Harry, and then perhaps* I might cet a • tutor for them.' ; ' -' Whatever you think best/ Joseph, but I advise school for both boys— far better discipline. However, let Harry come and stay with me till your return. 1 promise not to lead him into mischief,' said Margaret, with a -sly smile: Sir Joseph- departed for London that night; and while he is. away let us take another glance from the top of our hill, turning a little further south to where; nestling among trees and low flowering shrubs there lies. partly hidden a long,- low cottage, itself almost smothered in creepers that are only prevented by wide, -. overhanging eaves climbing up on to the roof. Tihere is the co>toneas,ter, with its bright " -berries in" autumn, -the clematis montana, a sheet of showy white - in spring;, followed by its elder sister, the jackmani, in

brilliant purple later on, and in full summer the crim- - son rambler rosesr-an unvarying >bteautiful procession of , nature s sweetest adornments to add fresh charm to this v,cosy spot. It is the smallest of the three dwellings .with which this' story-i s- connected; and yet it contains the largesOamily. 'There is -Mrs. 'Martyn, her five healthy, wholesome, noisy, true-hearted boys, and the flower of -■ the. flock, little golden-haired,, 'blue-eyed, pretty Clare Martyn, who at, the time of which T speak was twelve years of age, If, like Wordsworth's little -;girl, we arc -to count Hhe jiead amiong'vbhe living, there is a railed-in g.rave close beside us on the hni where sleeps the- father of this family ,beneath his canopy of ' flowers. Between the -inmates 'of ' this cottage and those of the .manor house there has always existed a close friendship, and 'here, too,* we may ' find an almost reverent love for Margaret Drew. She and'-Mrs Martyn were school girls together, and since those old happy days there has been no decline in "- v their mutual trust and affection. The children have been taught to call her/ Aunt Margaret,' and Aunt Afor-gajret is -indeed a name to conjure with among them. Little Clare is her special pet, and perhaps her influence is in some degree accountable for the fact that Clare is not altogether a torn-boy-, as she might well be among so many brothers. . .. ■ ' - , ■ ■ 111. Sir Joseph arrived home, bringing with him-a pale, " fragile-looking boy, who from the first -made friends with Harry, and in. due time, was inducted --into the inner circle at the cottage. Mrs. 'Martyn confided to Margaret Drew that she -would have -been fcetter pleased had the new companion been a girl, especially as-sh'e noticed that Clare had taken -a- great liking to Roger Arton. - 6 ' Of course they are thrown together a good deal ' she saM, ' because Roger is rio.t strong, enough for the boys" rough play, so Clare jreads with ,liim, and he takes a igreatj interest in her little Ig-arden." I believe Harry is "a -b^t jealous,' she continued laughing. ' ■ 1 Well,, -they will -all . be off to school soon, Mary, and it won't be very long before they are grown up. I hope there will' bje no complications then. Clarepromises to be a pretty girl,, and even in this, lonely spot may- break some hearts.' . * ;; - ' Oh, I hope not,' said Mrs. Martyri, as she bade goo-dMb'ye to her friend at the little gate: " Time sped on all too fast for the yduwg^people and • one early spring day six months later, - Harry burst in on .Clare in his eager way to have one last- talk, as next morning would see- him * and -Roger on their ' way to a far distant school. He two large cages wrapped up in heavy coverings,' for the day was cold, and laid them down on the schoolroom table. The birds begam to chirp with /delight,' but ~ there was a- .wistful look in Harry's eyes, as uncovering the cages he..drew his hand "sof tly s along the wires and ■ allowed the - little beaks to' peck his fingers for the last time. Then,jas*if fearing too ignominious a break down, he turned almost rougjaly and said, with his hands on the child's shc\ulders : : ' Now,. Clare, you know we are not coming back for three years. It's horrid, but Father says -we must spend the holidays in France, among the parlez-vous. I'm giving "you ;the birds, and "old Grant will ■ bring ' down my rabbits in the morning, and JL'ir just keep Vixie. wd-$r me for to-night '—pointing to a small foxterrier at his feet—' but . you are to have him while I am away.; .pussie, wouldn't come, I'm afradid.' He dropped his hands from her shoulders and put them in his pockets instead, walking about and making a .brave " show. Clare remained sclent, struggling' with fast-coming tears. ," c I say,' said Harry, after a pause, ■•' -it will be funny, but we'll, '--be, grown up, when we come back. That is, you. won't, but Roger and I will. And" that beastly young Tom Wilson will, too ;: and he.'ll be here for all the holidays! Clare,' with" -vehemence, * -if he gets inside me, Ill-settle him. Don't you forget - that you've got to marryVme, and don't think you're going to get out of .it- for all the /Tommies in the world. There ! — I say, don't cry. I'll write and write "to you if I never do an exercise. Good-bye, " Clare— 'dear little ~Cl.are,' and with' a big, long, , passionate, hugj be tore off with Vixie at his heels, slowing down- when far clear of the cottage to take' one' Jast tearful, 'look back at it. - Later an Roger came ..to say, good-bye, and kissed -MrsT Martyn aiid Clare as they stood at the" gate, together, he and Clare with clasped bands. ""V \ I'm going" to n work hard, Mrs. Martyn, and to try and h-aive a nice little- house 4ike Ithis . for Claire some day. 7NO one will make any difference. She's the only girl I'll ever And he,' too, strode off, making . a' brave show. So the heart-breaking process - had already begun,, as Mrs. Martyn afterwards related to Margaret Drew.

Three years passed away, and the swo boys came home aJgJam,, Harry, to make only a brief stay, he was going into the army, ami -must begin at Sandhurst -goon. But Roger was not very strong, and Sir uoseua thought. an open-air life best for him, v so he was to -go to the agricultural college about four' miles distant," i and would come home at -frequent intervals. Both boys had developed into tall, good-looking) youths, and Margiaret' declared that her favorite Harry would be as- handsome as his -lather some .day. He was xharnukiigfa-ri "manner ;' gay, unsellish, aavd chivalrously fond of his cousin Roger, who, he said, was too 'good for this world. "And Roger, in his turn, fairly adored his more robust, stronger cousin, and was' never tired of sounding his praises. No one was like him at school. He was first in everything, best at cricket and • football, > rowed a strong oar, and steered a straight course in whatsoever he -undertook. . ' The two months that followed their .arrival were _ very happy. It seemed as if childhood had been pro- -_ longed to enable them to enjoy. ali their former inn*)-" cent pursuits, and -no one noticed how quickly^ the time- 1 passed, nor how these young people gradually, (level- ' oped and' matured into responsible beings whose life lay before them, to «make of it what they woluld. Qn-ly--Margaret Drew saw that Roger ' required care, &nd that -. his frail ajpp.earauice seemed - accentuated when brought ? into comparison with Harry's robjust physique. -.- Clare" had fsprung , up like a reed, -erect and slim, pleasing to look at and likely tti turn many heads. She showed her little birds -lo 4 Har"r) r one day with all the pride fchjafc attends successful care, arid. laughingly' isaiul that she thought Vixie had grown too fond' of her *toreturn to his master. 1 Small wonder at that, 1 said Harry. ' I commend your stewardship, but I hope you have not forgotten " my chief injunction ? ' Then, to spare her quick blushes, he added: 'Well, I- won't tease you now .about it, but remember, that's not the last word on the sub- " ' ject.' . IV.In due time Mail'y joined his regiment, and so lost actual touch with ail these" scenes of his boyhood, and passed, from out of the family circle at the cottage. His name was frequently on their lips", aM his letters "_ to Clare were eagerly looked- for ; hut letters ate poor substitutes fot haofe familiar intercourse'/ and very often * lack that touch of personality, which makes the ehjuim of such intercourse.- In truth, Hafl'^ was but a poor letter-writer, and few on reading his ptfodttetioniß' could divine /the strong} determined character which WaS 80 evident in every feature of his face awd whole. befai'itWg. - Clare tooiught of him as a very jdiear hnrother of whom she was extremely ptoudj yet Sdmewhat afraid ; for tender as he -was towards hel 1 , - she nevertheless instinctively felt him to be a man of strofig purpose and determi'ilia/ti'on. She Was more at home with Rcgfr,. and it was hot very lohg before her mother and Margaret Dffcw bfegan .to e^chalngte knowings giances" and nod theii" Hea.ds. signififcahtly in anticipation" of what*- was coming. Even Sir Joseph >a^ net taken toy surprise when ' Roger one day "informed* him that Clar§ hjad promised' to become his wife, and asked his consent to ! their marriage. Sir Joseph dearly loved the girl whom he had known from infancy, and* if he was secretly a little disappoin- V ted at the turn things had taken, he kept .his owm {' counsel, an-d bore a smiling facet towards the yefcing couple; but advised a little delay until Roger was more in a position to set up that little home to which he was so fond of alluding. - " IVTaDgaret Drew was also not q,uite satisfied! 'I dqro't want to see .that dear, child in widow's weeds-,'" she' -- would say to herself. ' And I- wonder how poor 'Harry will take it ? ' - -, Hurry was expected home on short leave during the following week, so no one thought it necessary to write, or perhaps . everyone shrank from undertaking such a task. He was not * due till late in - the evening, and when he arrived earlier in the day he-" found his father _ absent and not likely to be home for some time, -so -beset out cheerfully ' through the well known fields and jumped the low wall opposite the cottage in great spirits. '„..-- The roses _clim!hied over the sunny jporch, framing a . picture that brought acold chill to his heart, awd 'held him motionless. Roger was bending down to his parting kiss< saying : l I shall -hurry -away, sweetheart; for Tmusb drive to the station to meet Harry, and be the first to tell him our good news. How pleased he -will be ! ' • ' , " ' „- Then these two, who had been so happy but a mo- , ment rbefore, caught sight of Harry's white face and troubled eyes, and in that one glance they "knew all. , Stra'rtgfejy enough, Harry was the first to recover himself, and true gentleman as he was he held out a hand " to each in loving- greeting. TJie nervous tension swiftly

passed, and Clare's young -brothers caused a diversion by racing out in noisy merriment to capture their toig friend and drag him off to their own special haunts. Nevertheless, .it was with- great relief tjfiat Harry saw Margaret Drew walking up the 'avenue some time later aivd went to meet her. ... - \ Perhaps- no one in the world understood Harry so well as old Margaret, and though years had passed since his childhood, she- now adopted the old method . of enticing him away from - painful scenes, that ~she might administer consolation to his lonely heart. *My dear boy, I am just in time, and my-patiencc ' - will positively not keep till to-morrow morning. ,Yoir i- must come up with me now, "and, see .my new green- ! house. I have been so anxious to have it finished - be- • fore you came. And think of all the years I have been saving up my threepenny- bits to build it ! Come along at once. 1 came "down tor Clare, but now everyone else must wait till to-morrow/ ' - .Clare and ' Roger laughingly made a pretence of -accompanying them, but Margaret insisted on carrying off - her favorite alone. • She leaned- on Harry's arm goa<rog< j up the hill, :b<ut once .in^doors she took his. two lia'aids j -in hers, and kissed him. I'm afraid the greenttiouse was almost forgotten, for Harry knew that she had read his heart and that it was useless to attempt to deceive -her, And indeed: nef had no wish to do so, for Margaret had known all iiis "secrets from a boy. He derived fresh- strength. from her "loving sympathy, and a few words from her filled 1 liinv with new courage to face the inevitable. " _-' ' • That? night, -taking -one last turn upon the lawn befdre. godng to bed, he placed ? His. hand' on Roger's shoulder,, saydng •: 'I need_nq,t wish you -happiness, pld fellow, f6r you are sure to have 4t-.^Taki. care" of her, and take cars of yourself^toto^-I Zqii't Jike that - cough of yours.^ Coiiie^inside^a't' once:' 1 " " : .. Wheni they stood under. the^JfiaH -lamp, Roger Idoked at Harry so keenly »Urat he responded as if to the question in his eyes. - --',-'- ■ ,■; ' Hang it, man ! Don't look at me like that.' Can't 1 wish you joy, and feel it, too? Do- you '•.think- I'm such a churlish dog as to grudge you your happiness?' Next day Margaret had two visitors. The first was ! Harry, and it seemed that he did !no*t come to spe*ik of - himself. ' „ . . !_ ' Aunt Margaret, I don't" like that cough of Roger's. ' How long has he' Had it ? ' "I think he has always 1 had it, dear boy.' 1 Oh, but he must see a "doctor. I shall speak to , my father about it.' i The second visitor was Roger. i " '- Aunt Margaret, ' he said, 'do you think I " have I done Hatty' a wrong ? Have I stolen a march" on him ? You know what I mean. And yel; if Clare had loved him, she would not have aeceptied me. Still, I cannot bear, to think that he should suppose I took "an unfair ' advantage of him.' "" - 'He does not" think so, Roger. No one, knowing yotti, could, think such a thing. Harry's affection for you is unchanged, and he will find his happiness some day:' Sir Joseph Arton was indeed very uneasy about Roger's health, and according to the doctor's advice " s&nt him away to a- warm climate for the winter. - : (To be concluded next week.)