THE WAY OF THE WORLD

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 5, 31 January 1907, Page 3

THE WAY OF THE WORLD

4 Still poring over those wretched, wretched papers -? I wondei at you, child.' Whenever Mrs. Weston was in a^eensonous mood she invariably called her niece 4 child.' Lucy Bingharri Sifted a pair of -innocent blue eyes -filled with merriment. '■ • 4 Why,- auntie, I haven't been such a very long time. It's "not yet noon.' T - , r "Oh, I am. losing patience with you, Lucy. You know 1 am perfectly reasonable. Ido not object to a person having some hobby or other, but riding that hobby to death is an entirely different matter.' " Mrs. Weston folded her ' arms v»4th majestic .deliberation paused for a few moments as if she expected to hear her wisdom arraigned. Receiving no reply, she went on': - ' " * ", . , . 4 When you first began to take an interest- in cnaritable work I encouraged rather than checked -the idea, for I hadn't a notion that the pursuit of a fad,-harm- " less in itself/ would lead you to abandon society and make a • semi-recluse of yourself.! .

'Oh ! if you really knew, auntie, what dreadful" suffering there is. in the world ! ' ' If 1 only- knew ! . Well;- of course, I could -not possibly have- that profound knowledge-of life which the girl of the -period claims, but i have sufficient experience to know that what an- individual may hope to ac- , comiplish in the way of alleviating human misery is so . . insignificant thaf lc.may be regarded as what the scientific gentlemen call a "negligible -quantity.' „ , ' And what shall we do, Auntie ? Shall ,we shut our ears to. the cry of distress V Is there not an impulse, which tjids us fun to the succoirof the weak? ' • ' ' ■ '{^'Precisely so,' and like 'all impulses it must be ■ guided and restrained that it does not hurry us into futile extravagances. One's first duty is tb oneself. 1 . Th£ two women formed a striking contrast,- the elder one elaborately gowned and jewelled v and . comfortably cynical of aspect ; the younger, in her simple attire of white, recalling the freshness and fairness . of a budding lily. -. ' What is one to think,' continued Mrs. Wesfbn, as if addressing an imaginary jury, 4of a young lady of goad birth, of ample - means, of varied accomplishments, of— ah — personal attractiveness derived froni the •best of families — ! ' - ■' 4 And in charge of the most distinguished' of chape- . rons,' interposed Lucy, mischievously. " ■ 4 Who actually prefers the society of paupers to "that of her peers, and finds the atmosphere of a drawing-, room- quite uncongenial when compared with that .of some dingy tenement-house ? ' * ' ' - 4 I am afraid you put the case rather too strongly, Aunt.' 4 Not a Uit, my dear. It often surprises -me* that you do not don some hideous uniform like that 'of the Salvation Army,' and go to live in some dreadful place on the east side.' - \ The young girl burst into hearty laughter at the picture thus conjured up. _ 4 Yes, you laugh at all my remonstrances. \ That -^ seems the only reward I get for my interest hfyouf welfare,' . ' Please don't say that, Auntie, dear.. I know I' am awfully headstrong and selfish, but I never mean to be in the least cruel or ungrateful.' As, Mrs. Wcston's eyes spftened momentarily, Lucy took up a sheaf of letters from her desk. ■ Now, here are some of the cases of distress which have come under my notice as secretary of the Ladies' Slumming Association.' " ' ' Mrs. Weston adjusted her gold-rimmed glasses and received the letters as if they were documents of a highly suspicious character. . ' Mercy ! ' she cried "after a while, with a little scream, ( what does that mean ? ' and as she held' out a letter at arm's length her face expressed the utmost horror and alarm. 'Oh ! that one marked " for personal attendance," ' said Lucy. ' Let- me explain, Aunt. That relates to a young widow, a most worthy and deserv--dng woman, who has striven very nobly to do her duty by her two children." A few days ago the eldest child fell ill of typhoid fever, so that the unhappy woman is in need of every assistance and encouragement. 1 1 But you do not intend to see her personally— to visit a house of infection ! For the sake of your icp.utation for sanity, tell me that- you do not entertain such a "preposterous notion as that.' ' ' That was my intention, Auntie.' _ . • For several moments Mrs; , Weston • sat helplessly in her chair as if overcome by the enormity of,, the disclosure. When she recovered her self-possession she spoke in a voice* •of desperate calmness- : 4 Lucy, I trust lhat now at the eleventh hour you ' * will not refuse to open your eyes -to the folly— l had ■, almost said wickedness— of - the course you are pursuing. You have jio longer any excuse for" remaining blind to the responsibilities of your position.' 1 What would you have ~me do, Aunt — turn and flee in a moment of danger?' 4 Oh ! don't address that sentimental cant to me. You seem to be animated by the purest, madness arid . Quixotism.'' . •■■ s - 4lt would need a great deal of Quixotism,'" retorted Lucy, ' to combat the selfish materialism which seems such a fashionable creed nowadays.' " ' """ _ Mrs. Weston uttered a sigh of despair. Very well; child,' she said, 'pay no attention to my remon- • strances if you will, but the-e is another way. of regarding the" matter. There is Mr. Lee "to" be' v consi- ~ . dered.' . . : r. Lucy's eyes sought the floor in some, confusion. 1 ' 'In spite of your eccentricities,', said, the good lady— and a toss of her head- seemed to add, 'thanks

' in great measure to my , skilful generalship— you ' have won the affectiqy 01. one of the .best young men in New York society. Only three months remain until —your marriage. : iNow, ao , you thinK- Mr.- Lee would t*ive any measure - 1 of approval lo the proceeding: you contemplate 'i ' . - ..... , •-„,;-- " With .these 'words she' played her trump card. ' She • was regarding ' the-eiiibarrassed girl-, with a\ smile of anticipated victory,. when the door. suddenly opened and /•UVIr. George Lee was .announced. . - _, •_.-,,, '.What a coincidence*!'' said Mrs. Weston, ~ greet- •< ing -him ■ warmly. 'Lucy and I were jusir'speaking of ' you.' " •' '_*-,-- ' - " ■-.... 'Yes, indeed,' he responded with, a smile, 'my visits are so rare and my personality" is so interesting that I do not think it a very remarkable coincidettce.' ■ • - . • Mrs. Weston laughed diplomatically. ' Your good humor is njever failing, George. I notice you are looking aather pale. - Too much attention to business, I suppose ? ' ' You have ; framed a most judidous answer for me, Mrs. Weston, and I cordially adopt it.' 'I really believe that you and Lucy are inclined to be martyrs, to what' yoir conceive your duty. Now,- I will tell you what I would do if I had my way after the marriage ceremony has been performed "Mrs: Weston shook her finger playfully at - -the young ' couple. 'I. would banish the pay: of, you from New York for ;not less than -twelve months. '- ' - 4 What, a dreadful tyrant -she is, Lucy ! ' said Mr. Lee. ' Jusf fancy the. sufferings of New .York and its inhabitants in our absence ! ' Mrs. Weston 'soon found occasion- to" leave v the room, and the -lovers engaged for ''some time- in that style of conversation which, -however , intrinsically in- N teresting, history generally , eschews. - . ' 4 I want, to ask you a question, George ' said Lucy at last. "■ . ' -- - , ... . 4 Fifty, if y<m lSke.' - , • .- - . . ■ ._ 4 Take care, : perhaps one may prove more than sufficient. ' : - - • , - _ . . - _ 4 Let . us Jiave it, then. I hope it is - hot a conundrum!' . ; 4 Please tys serious. Now, as you are aware,' I take somewhat of an interest in charitable work.' ' Yes, I knojv that in that as weil as every other respect you are- an angel.' Lucy ignored the remark and went on in a voice of intense • "seriousness : 4 You know that it' is impossible to look a]fter the needy- and distressed without encountering some inconvenience and occasionally danger. Now, would you counsel me to draw back-on that" account ? ' - ' 4 Let us understand each other, Lucy. I presume you- .mean the ;risk of contagion or something of that sort ?'"."•' ~ , 4 Precisely" so.' ' . - * ; For some moments he looked with a troubled ex- . pression, into the "pure depths of the girl's yearning eyes. - <, " 4 Well, you see,' he- said, ' since ,we became engaged, Lucy, • you .aiid I, so far- as we are mutually concerned, are ho' longer free -agents. You belong, .to, me and I belong to you. When you run a risk of the kind you' mention you jeopardise all that is dearest to - me in. the world. 1 ■- - - -But then, George, if you should be called on to fight for.' your country I would haver you go • even • though.- my -heart Would break.',4 And .1- would go,' he' murmured, enthusiastically, ' for then~ 1\ ■ should be Answering a call" which only the basest refuse', to hear— the call of my country.' - , -> Is- there, no higher' call ? Is there riot the cry of suffering humanity— the call of the crucified Redeemer?' Lucy's ringing words brought embarrassment to the' young man's; good-natured face. George Lee was highly cultured, broad-minded, and as the . phrase run, 4 a -thoroughly good fellow,' but his interest in religious matters was of a purely academical description.. 4 I am afraid, Lucy,' he said, c that the spirit of self-sacrifice is too strong within you. Promise for my sake that- you will not endanger yourself.' He ■ held her hands and pleaded with her earnestly, but she would only say : 'Whatever I may dQ» ■ George, I hope will be best for you and me^! and with " this enigmatical consolation he took his departure. • . Liicy Bingham's life had been such as to foster sel^sacrifice* and independence of thought. Her father, who v idolized her and whom she loved with correspon1 ding- davotioji^ htyl died when she was quite a little girl and left her without a. natural protector ; for- her mother, a butterfly of fash-ion, ever on " the wing of

pleasure, knew maternal responsibilities only to evade them. Abandoned to the care ot ever-changing govern--es>ses and . whirled about- from capital to capital in the train ot her frivolous pamit, she found herself in a world of which she' did not form a part and where her tender and loving, aspirations met with no response Or- enqouragejnent. it was a happy hour when her mother, atl tue "suggestion of a friend, decided to-place her in- a school conducted by the Presentation Sisters in the outskirts of Paris. There she spent the throe happies;t years of her life. The convent's grey walls enclosed to her eyes a paradise of peace and rest, and the gentle nuns carried with them an atmosphere of tranqjuil holiness and purity which seemed of another world.~ Her favorite haunt at the time used .to be the little .chapel. -The -beautiful cereinoaAes'of the Church, the singing, . the various devotions, at once -so simiple and su'biiine, were to her an unceasing source 'of de^lignt. strangely enough, however, she never expressed any desire to become a catholic. Loyalty to her father's memory was her master passion. He .was an Episcopalian, and to that creed she would consequently cling. Sometimes it grieved and puzzled her"* to fthinK that good people, should find it necessary to worship at diilerent altars, and she sighed for the day when there would be only one ' Church, as' there was only one God and Father -of all. Her mother's death shortly after an ill-fated second marriage left her an orphan -at the age of sevienteen. It was arranged by her guardian, Mrs-. Weston, that she should return to America and complete her education in college. .Never had the little convent seen such a touching faiewell scene, and Lucy thought the - bunshine was d)**ng out of her life as she tore herself from the embrace of her teachers and companions'. The next few years passed uneventfully enough, and then under the wing of Mrs. Weston she essayed her first flight in the exhilarating but perilous atmosphere of society. Unlike most girls, however, she was very little impressed by her almost instantaneous success. - The franK worldliness of her aunt at first amused and then frightened her, and she cast about for some anchorage which would give her a securer hold^on life, which would bring her into closgx contact with" the awful, though beautiful realities of religion. Gradually she began to absent herself " from those social functions which to a certain class seem the only -end - and aim of existence, and to devote herself to the care of the poor and sick. Mrs. Weston at first was by no means alarmed, for she fancied she saw only the symptoms of a passing erase, but when Lucy's, seif-seclu-bion began to attract the attention of her friends she '. endeavored to wean her from her purpose by every means in her power. And so a struggle went on between mature cynicism and youthful unworldliness till it reached the climax of which we have just read. In her doubt and perplexity Lucy thought- it would be advisable to seek counsel from somebody "who could appreciate the delicacy of the position in which she found herself. The Key. Mr. Grimes— or, as he loved , to hear himself called, Father Grimes— was an elderly clergyman of ritualistic tendencies who presided at the church she usually attended. His evident piety and sincerity as well as an air of venerable wisdom which he constantly exhaled, had made such an impression upon her that she now determined to lose, no time in consulting him. The good man listened to ' "her story with all attention and sympathy. 'My dear child,'- ie said at~ its conclusion, •it is the old story of the conflict between" spirit and matter. How the trammels of Vthe flesh, drag us and bind us to earth when we would^fain soar into the empyrean.' 'And " ' the saddest phase of ihe struggle' is seen' when the forces of good ans evil are so woven and intermingled that we find it almost impossible to separate them. Such is the difficulty which now confronts you. There is only- one remedy, and ' that is prayer. - Pray, my child, pray earnestly for ...enlightenment, and I will pray with you.' . ~ „ - - , -- It was excellent advice in. its way,' but .rather-, inconclusive, and Lucy went home disappointed. " That night before she went Jo sleep she spent several hours' tossing about- Sn a vain care and counsel, of. the. Oafcholic problem : Should she obey her aunt and her betrothed husib'and or the sacred impulses of her heart ? A thought came to her once which, reddened- her cheeks ' in Ivor solitude. Were her motives pure and disinterested ? Did any thought of self inspire her mission" to whitoh she had devoted .< herself ?, Her peculiar principles 'had won her a measure of not unflattering notor- w iety in her own circle, and to the general "public -she •, had- become known as ihe * noble, unselfish,- arid devote Miss Bin'gham.' Were her charities vitiated 'to any extent by an almost unconscious craving for the approval of others ?

The sunrise brought with it,--, as it "often 'does, reneweu siren-gin ot mind anu clearness or vision. All . doubts ami hesitancy had vanished, she thought of the lonely wkiow b^ooaing over" i<be cot of- "her, perhaps, dying, child and sne could -"see " notiAng but criminal . cowardice in remaining away irom'her -side. After making an.uifassmning ' toilet she hurried through breakfast and passed out uuohaiienged, Jot her aunt was-a very late riser. "-'."' A Third Avenue car soon placed her in: the vichAty of her ' destination. .Passing through a number of crowded streets, where fastidiousness unqualified *by human " sympathy would have : received a deadly ' stab atevery step, she found herself in the gloomy _ hallway ■of a tenement house overlooking the East river. As '.sfoe entered she" noticed &ha-o two ladies -in the garb" ■of Sisters of Lharity had just- preceded her, and not being quite sure if she had come to the right house, she asKed a question to Uiat effect. One of the nuns turned toward' the light and in doing so revealed a placidly beautiful "face which to Lucy seemed', startling- ; ly familiar. v • 1 Pardon me, ' she said ;in an agitated voice, ' but I thank'— l am sure i have met you before. It is very stupid of' me to forget — ' ' Yes, indeed we. have met,' said the , nun with a smile. 'I remember you very "well. Miss Bingham— -or, shall I say- Lucy ? ' ' ' Why, it's Kate Fenton !"* * . ' The next moment the warm-hearted was cling1 ing to the Sister's neck and Che two ""were, mangling tears of joy. 'Ah ! those happy days at old St. Genevieve's ! How. well I remember them! How- soften have I thought of you, Lucy, and how gladly have I heard the beautiful, unselfish life you are leading ! Be~ assured that God has great blessings in store for you.' •_ - - - %"?- Lucy.. plied her with jz. flood of questions, which Sister Frances— for' that was- her name in religion."— : "suddenly interrupted : " Excuse me, Lucy, but Sister Catherine and ~ I have an urgent .case on hand. There is a poor widow here, . Mrs. Hall, whose child is rvery ill—' . , • ' l -" - . Lucy's face showed - extreme disappointment. ' The very person 1 have come to see '. ; ' and then Lucy breathlessly poured her story into -her school-fel-low's* sympathetic ears. . ... •Well, Lucy,' said Sister Frances, •! don't like to ta"ke the responsibility of advising you, but I really .think, you should be guided by-jbhef wishes of,, your aunt and your .future husband.* — ' '-"" 4 You _ see/ she went on, -in tones of -gentle sincerity-, which gradually carried conviction to the girl's heart; ,-/, while we- are in the world we must constantly be "directed and swayed by the demands of our relatives andf of society unless those demands are actually siri^ ful. 'Believe me, Lucy, you will be doing best by giving up this idea of risking infection. There are .countless other ways in which you can-do -good.' For some _ time Lucy . could not reply for her sobs.^Then she said in a broken' "voice : 'Yes, I feel" you are right, Kate. I am afraid all .my actions are dictated by some selfish whim. But . hO|W noble you are ! This morning when I- set> forth , ,1 felt in spite of myself as if I were doing something martyr-like, something heroic, and here I find you on " the same errand quifce unconscious of the sublime courage which animates you.. Tell me,.J£ate — I mean Sister Frances— what is the secret of such courage ? ' --", A. rapt -expression came over thejginJs face. . - ' TherV is only one .answer, LiicyT l As * God'imiparts His strength -to the Catholic Church so the Church imparts if- to -"us. Without s the --never-ceasing : care : and icfrunsel oif the Ctfthodic Church hqfar ' vain- would ■ou.r poor efforts be,!.! ' N ' " " . As Lucy walked homeward she felt as _if a -revolution had beeri"Vo"ked in her soul. ..The feverish elation of the morning had gone and in * its place -had come a calmness peiisive and beautiful, "as of twilight The mists, of; error* t were-"dropping behind -the horizon, "and she^saw shinjfnig. before^ her the -golden pathway- which leads to ".the 'only haven of rest the wor-ld affords— the -Catholic Church— • Rosary Magan"ne.' ' .'

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