TWO STUDENTS

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXVII, Issue 12, 25 March 1909, Page 443

TWO STUDENTS

The. college, still Tspbfcen. of in half-whispered , utterances ,- by the neighboring. Protestants, . stood apart from thes village/ a great ruddy pile;" surrounded "by green pastures lands and Avell-kept. athletic grounds. - Travellers in tliei . -daytime" on their way to the great "city of Glenbridge,[jiwhich lay beyond the village, stopped to admire i its architecture aiid to wonder at the" black soutanes of the students ; but at" night, .when, seefa from- the 1 - road, the* college was but a black framework, shimmering with many lights, they - wondered still more and strained their ears for some sound that, would betoken the young life within its walls. To-night, if they had known where to look, they might have' seen two of the students walking under the shadows j>s . the great trees which fringed the lawru -They wore the - |dress common to the theological sLudetsts of the Catholic Church'; bub it dv& not conceal the well-built forms which activity at the college .games had brought them. Phil Austin and Jdck Grey had been classmates when the Latin grammar lay open before them, but the boyisli acquaintance had deepened as the years glided past, . and now, as the first session of their theological course •via.s closing upon them, a friendship had, to all appearance, been formed for In tliose intervening years their characters had developed differently; Austin's .restless ac- - f tivity, curbed by a dominant ,will, and forced into tho proper channels, was now rapidly and surely adorning him with the qualifications of a true priest. Grey, on the other hand, endowed with no less activity, but with greater ye*- . satility of mind^ had never such tenacity of purpose. .At the end of his earlier studies his powers had begun to feel themselves cramped. He had persevered, but, the longing for greater freedom had not ceased. - -Within the last - months the thought had grown into "a resolution^- and now he had taken his friend aside , and told him that Bo could not become a priest., ., Many other things he told — how his resolution had been i^made; what his plans were for the future; hut the words did - not fall on listening ears. - Poor Phil's heart was throbbing with love and fear for his -friend ; his mind was working rapidly at the new problem given, it, - and, he was praying with his whole soul for light to say the riglit thing. He had found words at last. ' 'Do not speak of . this as a resolution,' lie"" was saying. - ' Think of it as a doubt to be dispelled" by^ wiser minds than, ours.' _ ' The 'time for that has- passed,' replied Grey. 'My mind is made up,' he added. Phil was silent; his lips were tightly pressed, as was his wont in deep thought, but~they uttered no sound, aaid Grey spoke again. This time his calmness had disappeared. His long pent-up- emotions which had never known words " found expression. He laid a nervous hand on Austin's ' arm and pointed to the lurid atmosphere that hung over the city of Glenbridge, spoke to him of the - human struggles aud triumphs beneath it; told him of the ambitions which prompted that ceaseless industry, ?ai\d asked could he refuse to enter the contest for fame and power. " The lmm of the toiling city was borne to them by the alight wind and gave additional strength to the fervent, words. The appeal drew an aftswer from ' Austin, solemn, and reluctant, as if he were -^unwilling to share with another the thoughts that guided ' his life : • 'The great world does call me, fills me with longing ,to begin the fight, but it is the . fight against the sin and misery which stain and_sadclen~so'.fnany. I 'lives.'*' a '■ * And will that satisfy you?' said Grey in an impatient tone. _ ' ' It seems to me the only ambition worth realising," replied Austin , still more "earnestly. 'The only one worth realising?' echoed .Grey slowly. ' Think, Phil ; slmnried by the world, . distrusted- by many and sometimes -cruelly misjudged by yqur own people, for whom you have to" die. That, is .your -life. The prospect cannot fill one with hope.' Phil felt liis own nature shrink as these words were spoken. The thoughts had come to himself in his moments of solitude, but they had been overcome by his high ideals of duty and life. Now, when he heard them from another "they "seemed to. be his own thoughts returning with new . strength. He had felt those emotions which now filled JTa'ik Grey's mind, and pitied him -from his heart. But what could be said? No reasoning would calm ;_the troubled spirit by his side, .and he turned to him with what he felt to be the last' appeal. • ' Jack,' he said gently.. .' These thoughts have not to be shirked, but we' have' not '.to magnify their importance. Our first "duty is to save souls. If we win hearts "our work

will be easier, but it will only .be begun. t Prayer wilJ lessen the difficulties, or bring us strength.' * Grey shook his head. The last appeal had failed. Phil, you are>made'-of good metal. I am of a weaker mould, and now let us speak no more of it. -You- will remember me when - yoii_ are doing your duty .like the- hero you are, and — and — God bless you.' / v " ' It was as he. said. The long "and silent handshake •which was .given when the darkness hid ' the' tears that trembled on their cheeks was the last for many years. . Jack made his ..intention public some days, afterwards, the necessary formalities were gone through,- and the college knew him no-more. ' - • - " r< Ten years have passed. Father Austin has fulfilled the . promise of his youth, and is now wearing -his life and - energies away in the struggle with sin, cheering and helping all within his influence. Good fortune had followed Jack Grey/ He had gone out to his new world with' no false ideas. His studies in the classics had broadened and refined his" sympathies'. t " Philosophy had sharpened his rtiind, but the other qualifications for his new life" were yet to come. He faced the struggle unflinchingly, and bent to his work, and in .a few, years he had obtained a good footing in the ranks of -journalists. The struggle had shaken his feelings in many ways. His early friendships were now only memories., his faith in religion had weakened and the free thought of the day, " to which he opened his mind, met no antagonistic loyalty and zeal, but found a favorable answer from his pride. For a long time he scarcely acknowledged the change, even • to himself; but the world was soon to know. His lectures which had followed his success were criticised by some as biased by his religion. To remove the charge, he openly stated his disconnection with the Church, and proclaimed his adherence to what he called ' unfettered Christianity. 1 The statement was in every paper next morning, and Father Austin knew his friend had fallen. A few daysafterwards Grey arrived to deliver a lecture in the town where he was stationed, and Phil met him again. In a spirit of angry defiance he had bought the Catholic papers ' and read over the comments upon his action. His conse- " quent irritation was at its height when Phil came upon - him in his room at the hotel. Unaware of this, Father *" Austin approached with outstretched hand to greet him. The clouds partially cleared from his brow, but his reading had left its effects, and after ansAvering the greeting . he said playfully, but with a touch of bitterness: ' You have not come, 1 hope, to reproach your " heretical friend " ?' '-I have come to see him aften ten years' absence,' Father Austin replied gently. ' And to talk with him of the old days,' Grey added eagerly, his genial nature asserting itself. He pulled a chair forward for Father Austin, and the thoughts of both wandered back to their early >years — Phil boyishly happy in the memories ; Grey very pleased and smiling, though somewhat restrained. They thus avoided for some time the subject which lay. uppermost in their thoughts; but a chance remark of Grey's outwitted them. He was speaking of his' old professors, and remarked : ' How hard Father Morris used to work for us in theology.' Father Austin winced at the scarcely concealed pitj r in his tones, and replied: ' He gave us an example of a duty thoroughly done.' Grey paused. His eyes shifted uneasily and fell upon the papers by his side. ' 'Twas a pity to waste such mind and energy! upon, time-worn and musty dogmas,' he replied. This time "the pity -was not concealed, and Phil could not let it pass. " • ' They are the dogmas we Catholics would die for,' he replied quickly. 1 * Your modern Catholic would, I think, prefer a compromise. Indeed, even now he makes a good type of a Broad Churchman.' * • - . - - ' The compromise you speak of,' said Father Austin warmly, ' has been for a long time the open road to success in life, 'but few have taken it.' . The full import of the words was realised when they were uttered, but it was too late. , ' You - imply, then, that self-interest prompted the -change in my belief?' „.. " . , r . -" , Phil saw no way to avoid the threatened catastrophe, but replied, as gently as he could : •Your motives are known, only to yourself, Jack ; but let us speak of other things. Any discussion at present would bring no good result.' ; .„ T- , *. The reply might have been more skilful, nut no more pleasing to the petulant and irritated mood which had again seized upon Grey.

'You came, then, not to see me, but to convert me,' - he said scornfully. ' Let us end the discussion, ■ - as- you say, but do so by leaving me.' His,, pride was hurt. He was persuading himself that he had 'been deceived. Nothing that Father Austin- could ; say appeased him, and Phil,' with a disappointed heart, left - the hotel. Trusting- that all annoyance' had passed for the day, Grey rose and prepared to go to his lecture. He went through it with his accustomed^. facility, and -_ sat down happy in the consciousness of his success. The chairman rose to thank him, and- by an unfortunate coincidence took -the occasion to sympathise with him in the . abuse, his former co-religionists gave him. The speech renewed the irritation of the- early part . _pf the evening, his interview with' Father Austin, in -which he felt he had not shone, and he rose again, with his bitter feelings intensified by the applause of the meeting.' He thanked them, restated his opinions -with affected • modesty, covered with a quiet contempt the, re^ports of the newspapers, and r finished by alluding to some •_ well-meant efforts to bring him back. Indeed, he , had ...received that . afternoon , a visit from a priest, aiu old -.' college companion. 'Probably,' lie added humorously, 'tlie good man - had feared that his early years were, to . supply matter f o r a sensational book.' _ v The words w«re out,' and he sat down, amidst wellbred laughter. The last thought had come .to him liko - a flash, and he had -spoken as one invents and relates a . -good story. Now, when he was seated, it lost the appear- . v ance l of a pleasant fiction and resembled something like a cruel* lie. But he waved the thought aside. No names . had been given; the company would receive it as a- jest, and Phil would understand the mood in which it had been • said. Yet, - unconsciously, he had taken the best means to reach the convictions of his audience. Anything more explicit would not have_ been welcome, but tlie quiet insinuation amused them and colored their judgments^ on many things Catholic. ... - - - >~ . % ? ' " •i Time had again brought its changes. - ToL"~Father Austin it had been kind and loving. • The cross of calumny, ■ which he had. feared, came no nearer than we have menf tioned, and he liad glided into middle^age without the recollection of any great sorrow or trial to brood "over. Grey's words had pierced him at -the time like a .darting pain, but they failed to damp the fire of Ms love".' His memory dwelt on the true-hearted college chum, and for his sake he forgave the" cruel words of the man. Misfortune had not left Jack ' Grey's lif e ." unvisited. He had tasted fame, but it had fled as suddenly as it came. The public soon found a new, idol, and after fighting -sternly for the prize that was slipping from his grasp, Grey agaiai found himself among the rank and file of journalists. The struggle, however, had deeper, effect - than loss of place. There was for him s no faith-, to bring consolation, but the other antidotes which the .world offers for. the poison of failure were ,sbught.iout, and every defeat . had seen him more "firmly- in the' grasp' of ."the drink demon. He -had a superstition that his luck lay abroad, and work -was found for him in the French capital. JBut his power's .vere not • w.hat' they had beon, his old clever- " ness appeared in his letters onlyiin fitful gieams, and as time went on those came -less frequently, and" soon dis- - appeared. Rumor said he took little care of himself,- but rumor had only gently translated the loose- code of morality that now governed him. His feebleness was recognised by .those at home, and after some pitiful efforts to reform he had to give up liis place. Without a friend and without ': hope, .he wandered through „' Paris, doing 'what work He could get, but living only to feed the passion within him. - - The news became known among his-former acqxiaintances in the city, and Father Austin, arriving in Paris ■on his way to visit Rome, heard it from a friend. He hurried across the city to', the Rue Napoleon, and asking by chance the old woman who 'brought Grey his food,- was . directed to the hou.se, JHe crept gently upstairs, ■ stopped to keep down^ the lump • rising in his throat and to fxjrce back the gathering tears. Then he stole into the roonv: 'Jack!' " , The weary, head turned at the strange voice, then' the eyes shone out their welcome, "as those of a "lost child when finding, its mother^ but one- word only came from .the wasted lips, and that was, ' Phil I' The two students 'had met once. more. "• " : -' -~ Father Austin knelt beside the poor bed, held the thin, quivering liand in his own warm palm, and let the teaTs come unchecked. : He was, praying and thinking how to act." His practised eye- had told him what little time he -had for the work to be done'. 1 He had to cheer the " last moments of his friend; but- -he had v also, if God helped him,- to bring back the lost sheep and send the weary soul to heaven.

Jack's feeble voice broke the long silence. ' I thought you would never, come again,' he said. , Father Austin's expression showed- that he did" not understand. 'After my speech, Phil, when I— l lied about you.' The flushed forehead showed how- the priest had once felt; but now he. pressed the hand that lay in his, \ and said: 'I forgot that long ago.' f ' The dying man spoke again, but rather to himself, than to his companion. 'And now you are the only one who cares. Why did you", not forget me altogether?^ Without. answering, Father Austin took a little photo- ,- graph from his pocket-book and held it before him. It T was Jack himself — Jack as he looked in that bright early". , period of his dark life. He thought, how, if he- had been Phil, he would have torn it and cast it away. But Father Austin was speaking again. 'We alone remain of our old class. Father Winston died last year. Do you remember them, Jack?' 'Every one,' was the reply, for the photograph had . brought back the' old days and the old faces. , - - / 'How we used to pray at Our Lady's altar before a holiday!' Phil said. < ■ . A sad smile passed over Grey's face at the recollection. 'Yes, for good weather for our cricket!' he replied, and his thin voice trembled as the boy's devotion to the Mother of God rose before his mind. But"the thought which Father Austin wished to inspire - had come, for Grey turned to him with the words : 'Ifl -. had always prayed like that, Phil ' 'Jack, I have prayed for you every day.' ' The -wistful eyes gleamed with love for the faithful friend. '- 'You would have brought me to heaven if man could," but it is too late.' ' Not too late for God's mercy,' said the priest..' ' ' The stream of hope that these blessed words ever bring was in the way, but it had first to conquer the" bed-rock of his pride. - \ ' But to turn again, after all that has passed ; does it not seem the act of a coward?' ' - ' No, Jack; it would be the apt of a trustful child.' There was silence for some minutes. Jack Grey lay with eyes closed. Hope had gathered its strength, and - was beating upon the only weak spot, perhaps, in his fatal pride. Then he opened his eyes again, but this., time they showed that hope had broken down the barrier and was flowing over his soul in glad ripples. He bent his head and tried to pray, then turning to the priest, he said humbly : ' Then help me to become a child again.' mo victory was won. — The Patrician.