The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 10 April 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

THOU SHALT NOT COVET Often as Mrs. Digby motored past the little greenshuttered house where the blacksmith lived, she would turn her face enviously to listen to the shouts of childish laughter that came from the hedged-in garden where the little ones played. The smithy had seven children, and had much ado to feed and clothe and bring them up on his none too large earnings. And Mrs. Digby, the wife of the squire of Huntsville, possessed of everything that the heart of a woman is supposed to desireriches, beauty, rank, and jewels that had excited society itself, envied the poor man with his whitening hair and stooped shoulders —envied every cottage woman she saw with a babe at her breast, because she was childless. She had got into the way lately of coming round . by Linnet lane, and calling on one pretext and another. And the children would rush to the gate to gaze at the great motor car; and the blacksmith's wife would fly to gather the little ones close to her like a motherly * hen collecting her chicks. She grew to hate the green I monster* that seemed to her like the car of Juggernaut, and she wished that Mrs. Digby would choose some' other way. There sprang up in her mind a kind of dislike of this beautiful woman, with her imperious blue eyes and delicately-tinted face, and her magnificent motor coats, who came to envy her children. She knew better than if she had been told, that it was Bossy on whom the squire's wife had fastened her covetous gaze. Bossy was three. All the other children were fair --even the fat, rollicking baby had hair like golden silk; but Bossy was darka wee, sturdy man, with black brows that frowned with the earnestness of his

thoughts, beautiful black eyes, and a scarlet mouth, that made all beholders long to snatch him up and kiss him, and a face as brown as a brigand's. Bossy, pondering over the weighty matters in his alphabet-book, and trying to solve such profound problems as to why a big ' B ' and a little ' a, ; should mean the voice of the sheep in the meadow, was a delicious sight; but to see him laughing, all the solemnity of his handsome little face broken up into dimples, was a vision of enchantment that could never be forgotten. The mother shivered often at the light that sprang into the childless woman's face as she watched him, and though she tried to pity her and not to mind when she gathered Bossy up against her breast, and sought to coax him to come with her, the sight raised strange thoughts in her mind; and she sighed with relief when the great green car had glided away and left all her children with her. ' She is always wanting to take Bossy away with her,' the wife told her husband as they sat together. ' I suppose I ought to feel proud that she takes so much notice of him, but somehow it worries me.' He looked at her as she bent her head over the tiny sock she was darning. He had often suspected that Bossy was the dearest to her of all her children, and now he was sure. He put his kind hand on her shoulder. ' This is foolish, dear. And you like the children to be admired, don't you?' Oh, yes 'She is childless, too,' said he, gently. 'Why should you not share a little of your happiness with her, and let her enjoy the society of Bossy for an hour or two? It would not rob you of anything, love.' She compressed her lips tightly, arid wove her needle in and out for a minute or two without speaking. Then she lifted another little sock from her piled-up basket, and held it out to him. ' Look at that, Richard. Bossy's feet wear through his socks sooner than any of the others—his little feet are never still, bless them!' Then she dropped it on her lap, and, turning, hid her face against her husband's shoulder Tired, love ' No, no ! I think I'm too happy to ever feel tired, and I'm sure I've no time for it either, Richard I'm a selfish, jealous woman 'The least selfish woman in the world,' said the roan tenderly. ' I'm not, Richard. If I were an unselfish woman I wouldn't begrudge another anything that I have, but somehow, when Mrs. Digby comes here in all her beautiful clothes, and with her beautiful face, and I see Bossy in her arms, and see her looking at him as though she were going to take him from me, I feel so strangely —as though something was going to happen—and I want to pull him away from her and run out of the room with him.' ' That is very foolishvery wrong, Kitty.' ' Yes, I know it is, for Bossy is mine, and only God can part us, and I am his mother. Richard, I won't be mean and selfish any longer I'll be tenderhearted to all poor women who have not been sent my blessings, and I'll let Mrs. Digby have Bossy whenever she wants him for an hour or two, and I will fight against all these queer, wicked, jealous thoughts that come into my mind.' And so Mr. Digby got her way at last, and the great green car was permitted to bear off Bossy. It came at length that he often spent a day at a time up at the Hall, and when he returned he came with full hands, for nearly everyone in the little household had to share in Bossy's good fortune. Only the mother turned away often from the little baskets of game and other luxuries that were so useful an addition to that bare little larder; to her it all looked like bribery. Up at the Hall the wee dark boy was waited on like a king, the very pick of the New York toyshops were sent down for his edification, and he played with his trains and his great Noah's Ark in the long white drawing-room, with a beautiful, eager woman always ready to join in all his games. It was fairyland to

Bossy, just as long as the day lasted : but when bedtime grew near he grew restless. He wanted his mother, and the loveliest woman in the country could not be the substitute for that dear, patient mother who waited for him. He wanted to lie on his mother's lap, cuddled up against her shabby old blue gown, and listen while she sang to him a little nonsense verse about a ' purple cow,' without which sleep was never successfully wooed. And so the car would have to be ordered, and the small man whirled off to the shabby little house that meant home. 'But it was a state of affairs that began to annoy the imperious Mrs. Digby. She determined to leave no stone unturned to obtain complete possession of that beautiful dark child that she coveted. She tried to enlist her husband's sympathy; but the big, genial squire was aghast at the thought of asking a woman to give up her child to another. But, if she is willing to give him up?' 'That would be a different thing, Milley. But is she I doubt it. They say she is wrapped up in her husband and children. A nice little lady she is, too. No, no, Milly, put that idea out of your head.' ' If Mrs. Crew is a sensible woman,' said his wife, with chagrin written largely on her face, ' she would see at once what a tremendous advantage it would be for the child himself. He would be treated exactly as though he were my own son. Oh, that he were!' The big squire's face shadowed for a moment, then he stroked the dainty head that rested against his shoulder. ' If I judge Mrs. Crew rightly, she is not. one to let ideas of that kind come between her and her children, Milly.' ' But they are as poor as Job, Duke, and those kind of people are much more mercenary than you imagine. She will probably jump at the suggestionit will mean so much to the others. Also, for Bossy's sake. I should help them in every way, of course.' But she knew in her heart that what she said about the blacksmith's wife being likely to fall' in with the idea was untrue. The squire shook his head. 'Look here, Milly; let me write to Hogson. He's got something to do with the Foundling Home at his place, and he will be able to find you a child if you want to have a new plaything.' But the spoilt beauty cried out in horror. It was Bossy she wanted, it was Bossy she would have, until at last her husband, who idolised the earth on which her dainty feet rested, could hold out no longer, and he allowed himself to be persuaded to do what he hated, and to make an offer, as he bluntly put it to himself, for the little fellow. It was to the father he spoke; not for worlds could he have been induced to refer to the subject in the presence of Mrs. Crew. But he told her of the squire's proposal when they were alone that night, and told her also how emphatically he had refused to contemplate such a thing. His wife listened, and was moved to a sudden fit of anger that he had never seen before. ' Does that woman think that our children are merchandise that she would put a price on them?' she demanded passionately. ' No matter how poor we are, we mean to keep the children God has sent to us.' The husband soothed her and reproached himself for having ever told her what the squire had said to him. ' Don't think anything more about it, love. You ought to feel proud, you little mother-hen, that one of your chicks has been singled out for such distinction.' ' It hurts me to think that anyone would dare to imagine that we could sell our children!' And then she allowed herself to be soothed by her husband's tenderness, and she stole away to have a peep at Bossy as he lay sleeping in his cot with one little arm thrown above his head, and his dark face sweet with the visions of Dreamland. And she knelt beside him and thanked God for her treasure. When she came back to the tiny parlor, her sensible, tranquil little self again, her husband was sitting busily at the table reading, and the light of the lamp

beside him streamed full upon his face and showed up lines that care and work had furrowed there, and which until then she had not noticed. It seemed as though her heart stood still as she looked at him. Then she bent over her work hurriedly, but she could not see the little pinafore she was making for an instant for the tears that filled her eyes. Had she been thinking more of her children than of her husband ? How was it that she had only seen the wornness of his tired face now ? All the next day she was unlike her cheery self. A strange shadow came beneath her eyes—her voice had a sad intonation. Often shgr stood to watch the children playing in the garden, but it was Bossy that she followed with her sad gaze. She felt that between this child and herself there was a closer bond. She had nearly died when he had been born; it was thought that she would have to give up her own life for this small one just flickering into existence; but God had been merciful, and the clanger passed. This may have been the reason. These mysterious things are know to God alone. But now she had taken herself to task for this deeper love—it wronged the others, so she reasoned in her woman's way. She must sacrifice herself for the sake of her husband, for the sake of the other precious ones, and Bossy was her offering. If Mrs. Digby adopted him, he would never be her son again —he would be brought up in a. position in which she had no part, but her sacrifice would benefit her husband. The squire had hinted so, and had spoken of a living in his gift that was soon likely to be vacant. The giving up of Bossy would make smooth the path of the others. And so there came a day when the great green car whisked away a little laughing, excited boy. But there was no coming home again that night. There was an empty cot in the blacksmith's house, and a mother who lay with wide-open eyes the night long through, with a pain in her heart that nothing could assuage. The next day she was up and busy among her children. She fulfilled all her duties, nothing was left undone. She never complained, but the change in her was patent to all. Something had gone from —part of the essence of life. The servants from the Hall brought down all kinds of tales. How the child had fretted for his mother till there was no doing anything for him. How for days he had refused to be comforted, and had to be continually watched lest he should find his way back to the little home that he had left forever. How bravely now he was bearing his baby grief, but that often at night he was heard to call for his ' mumsey ' in a little sobbing whisper that might have softened the hardest heart. ' I'd send him back to his mummy, that's what I'd do,' said the fat cook, who had come to gossip in the village shop, wiping her eyes. ' But, there, the misses is that set on him she'd give him Fold to eat; she'd give him everything but what he wants most. But she's never been a mother, and doesn't know their ways.' 'And his mammy's fretting for him,' said one of the women who had been listening to her. ' Terrible ill she's getting to look.' ' There's no good to be got taking a child from his own,' said another solemnly. ' 'Tis the way of the rich to want what their money hasn't sent them.' All this was carefully kept from the mother. The most inveterate gossip in the place would have suffered tortures rather than let her know what was 'so freely circulated. But she knew, she felt it all; the 'ntense love of the mother could understand. Sometimes from her sitting-room window she would catch a glimpse of the great green car dashing past, and have a momentary peep of a tiny figure beside Mrs. Digby, and she would hold out her hands as though she would clasp him to her—and then remember that Bossy had passed out of her life, though he could never pass out of her heart. Because the little fellow could not forget, Mrs. Digby determined to leave the Hall until the child's remembrance had grown less keen. Tender and yielding to every desire of his, she was as adamant to that greatest desire of all—to see his mother.

'I am your mumsy- now, darling,' she would say passionately, catching him up in her arms and clasping him to her breast. 'You are my own little son—my own dear little boy. Bossy, you must love mesay you will love me And the little fellow would submit patiently to her embrace with an air of resignation. And sometimes he would study her face with his beautiful, wistful eyes as though he were trying to understand why such things should be. b So the Hall was all astir, for their absence would extend over a year or more. They would spend some time in New York, then go on to Newport, where they possessed a villa. But the day before they left for New York a pair of horses attached to the carriage of some visitors at the Hall became restive and pranced and reared, and finally tore off down the avenue, knocking down the groom who had been standing at their heads and a wee figure in a tiny sailor-suit who had left Mrs Digby's side to have a closer view of the beautiful dancing animals. Her shriek as she flew down the steps to the tiny prone figure that did not rise was never forgotten by those who heard it. Panting and sobbing, she lifted him in her arms, but the sight of that pallid baby face and the closely shut eyes turned her faint, and she and her burden fell into the squire's arms. 'He is dead !' she cried wildly. ' I coveted him— I broke God's law, and this is my punishment!' The little fellow was carried indoors and the doctor sent for, and, before the mother could be summoned she entered the house. The squire met her, with his kind red face quivering with emotion. 'I know,' she said steadily, before he could speak ' I was coming when I met them. Will you take me to him, please?' She went into the room where Bossy was lying with shut eyes, Mrs. Digby kneeling beside him. The woman raised her pale face in agonised entreaty as the mother entered, but she did not speak. What words of remorse could avail in a grief like this ? The mother bent over the boy. She put her hand on the wee brown one that lay inert beside him. Had he passed out of the world without one word to her? Did he belong to God now and to no earthly love ? The dark lashes stirred. The two women hardly seemed to breathe. The white lids lifted, and the child s dark eyes gazed upwards into that face that came to him in his dreams. ' Mumsy !' My baby!' 'Bossy sleepy. Sing " Perper Cow" to Bossy.' His eyes closed again. A sob came from Mrs Digby but there was no falter in the soft voice that crooned out the foolish little rhyme about the ' Purple Cow.' Over and over again the little drowsy, monotonous song continued until at last the strained look on the dark face passed away. And, listening, they heard his. soft breathing. Then Mrs. Digby, with streaming eyes, put her hand on the mother's. v He was out of danger in a week, and as soon as he could be moved the great green car conveyed him and his happy mother back to the shabby little house that meant home to them both. 41 v H l' is ,T l OUl ' S ''. S laid 1 aid Mrs - Di S b y> tenderly holding the hand of the smithy's wife in her two little jewelled ones. I was wicked to covet what God had' denied me. If anything had happened ' She could not mush the sentence, but she leaned forward and kissed the cheek of Bossy's mother, and that kiss cemented a friendship that never was broken. Two years later one of the houses of the squire's became vacant, and it was presented to Bossy's father And the very first day he took up his new duties and the delighted children went to the roomy old home two miles away, a wonderful thing happened at the ..all—something „h a fc nad kept it full of expectation and hope for months past-a tiny daughter was born to the squire and n» wife. Such a small, fair creature, with her mother s beautiful blue eyes and golden hair and they call her Felicity.

- And dreaming, as mothers will, of the future before she was a month old, Mrs. Digby had laughingly vowed that when her small daughter was a woman she should marry Bossy, and so he would, become her son-in-law. But Bossy, rioting in the garden, and Felicity sleeping in her blue-ribboned cot, were unconscious of the destiny planned out forthem.— Brooklyn Tablet. ; :