The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 4 September 1913, Page 5

The Storyteller

MY GODCHILD I looked up from my work. It was the scent of violets which roused me— Parma violets, like a breath from a spring garden. The mere opening of the door would not have caused me to look up for I was very busy over an article which had to go to the printers next day. i • - L My visitor entered unannounced and handed me her card. I looked at her and —somewhat tartly, I fear: . I I think you have made a mistake.' .' You know Lady Elton,' she answered. 'She told me to come to you. Her card, you see, is with mine.' I took the card, and then stood staring helplessly at the girl. Her appearance was so remarkable that it staggered me. (I may as well admit that I am an old maid, with Old-World notions.) The perfume was well enough; but her face! The paint and powder! Such coloring could not be natural, and such beauty and dress were certainly out of place in my sanctum. Uncharitably, I concluded that they belonged to a world not to be touched by my virtuous, if dowdy, skirts. I pointed an indignant finger toward the door. But the girl stood her ground bravely, smiling a whimsical little smile. Then I relented. For all its make-up, there was something so good and honest in her face that, when I had time to study it, I knew my suspicions to be groundless, and I motioned her to a chair. ' You must forgive my intrusion,' she said sweetly, as she sat down, 'but Lady Elton told me to come to you. You see, I want to become a Catholic. I have been instructed, but I want some one to be my sponsor and to help me through. Lady Elton thought that perhaps you would be so kind.' v--/■. "I- looked at the girl, at her dress—'creation' I suppose it ought to be called, —at the golden curls, at

the impossible fairness of her skin;' and once more my equilibrium was disturbed. My spiritual vision refused to see grace penetrating through such a crust. V She noticed my hesitation. - - ' "- % , ' . 'Perhaps you think I am not in earnest,' she said. ' I suppose I seem very worldly.' , (I saw her eyes travelling over my uncompromising flannel blouse and tweed skirt.) 'Perhaps I am worldly but, if so, I want to be better. I am an actress, and I must stick to my profession, because it is my only chance of bread and butter. But I want something to help me keep straight. It is not easy'on the stage. Life is so hard.' Then I saw that there were tears in her blue eyes, and my heart was won. - : 'Poor child!' I said, sitting down on the couch beside her, and taking her hands in mine. ' Forgive my coldness! I did not understand. You must tell me all your troubles. I am only an old maid, j?ufc we Women all have mother-hearts ■ when once they are touched..' -. ' , E^jl Then she told me all about her life, and I understood, too, how God's ways are not our ways. And I realised that I, wrapped up in my own self-righteous-ness, knew. really very little about life's struggles and dangers. Sheltered by faith, protected by the circumstances and limitations of my life, what did I know of those worlds within our world, where souls are tossed about in the stormy waters of unbelief and sin! In the midst of the storm this child had kept her little, barque afloat, and God wasbringing it safely into port. Poor girl! How rashly I had judged her, and how my heart went out to her, now that I knew her story! We chatted together longhand earnestly; my. work was forgotten; the press and its requirements at my hands seemed sadly insignificant to me, now that I was brought face to face with living ' copy.' From that day we were fast friends. - Some weeks later we were once more together, this time in a convent chapel. My friend knelt beside me, waiting for her Baptism. She wore a simple white muslin frock; her sunny hair was smooth and braided; her fair complexion was untouched by cosmetics; her whole appearance was so modest and childlike that there was nothing to offend even my rigorous ideas of the right and fitting. But as I looked at her in her simple garb I had to acknowledge that it made her more dangerously beautiful. I could see that she was praying earnestly. When the time came she read her confession of faith bravely, and begged humbly to be admitted to the Church. Then the saving waters flowed over the fair head and the garment of innocence was laid on "her shoulders, for she had never been baptised before.. At that moment I seemed to see her soul pure and lovely as the soul of a little child; and, in the -ardor of my joy, prayed that it might be preserved so at all cost, even at the cost of pain and sorrow to myself. Then, with a heart full of happiness, I rose to follow her out of the church. Before she left she laid a bunch of lilies upon our Lady's altar. That day she spent with me. My little home offered an assured retreat, where the world and its claims could be forgotten. We passed some peaceful, happy hours together. She amused herself turning over with a child's curiosity all my poor treasures. But in the evening the stage claimed her once more, and robbed me of her presence. I did not fear for her soul's safety, feeling confident that God would guard her as His own; but it seemed a desecration, and I could not reconcile myself to the cruel fate which bound her to a life so full of danger. _ For weeks I had not seen anything of my godchild, when one morning, as I was feeling unusually weary and depressed, the perfume of Parma violets once more invaded my little sanctum, and she stood radiant before me. ■ : " ;';..-;;■ ■-.-. ,*.,'' - , 'We are going to have a holidaya real holiday,' she said. We shall spend it in the country together. I know a delightful spot, where we can dream, and talk, and wander in the woods, and joy ourselves in your own quiet way. Say you will come. I have set my heart upon it.' ' Yes, I will do so gladly. I have been longing for a day in the country, and longing to see you.'

; '/Seel how well I can guess your wishes, though I am only the godchild, not the fairy godmother!' she answered, laughing. , .' Now get ready quickly. . And then in the evening you must come to the theatre. I am to have a benefit to-night, and you must be -.there.' *;. The idea of the country expedition was delightful. The weather was warm the smell of ink and paper had grown nauseous, and I was weary of routine work. But. the prospect of going to the theatre did not enchant me, and I demurred. ' You see,' I said, 'I never go to a play. And, then, I would rather think of you as I know you, than as I should see you on the stage' ' You are afraid of being disillusioned. You don't approve of the stage.' ' I have no right to condemn. It certainly does not fit in with my ideas.' ' But just this once! It is a fine piece, and I should so like you to see me in my professional capacity.' •_' She pleaded so effectually that at last I consented, and then went to get ready for our expedition. • In honor of my godchild I donned a new summer 'gown, which delighted her. , 'How nice you. look!' she exclaimed. 'Do you know, when you wear pretty things you look quite young ? I am sure you are not half as old as you pretend.' 'Oh, yes, I am quite, quite old ''l refuse to believe it!' Then she grew silent and thoughtful for a while. But afterward we chatted gaily "on many subjects, and passed a delightful day together. When we came back in the evening, she insisted on my dining with her at a little French restaurant, which was as excellent as it was unpretentious. She seemed to divine my tastes in everything, and was determined that I should enjoy myself as much as possible in my old-fashioned, quiet way. She was so simple and winning that I soon forgot her worldly role and calling. When our pleasant day had come to an end, she reminded me of my promise to go to the theatre, and forced me to accept a box. I went reluctantly. It was years since I had seen a play, and the stage had lost all charm for me besides, I dreaded the possible nastiness of a modern play, with the child taking the part, perhaps, of a foolish or unfaithful wife. I dreaded, too, any failure or disappointment, because I loved her, and could not bear to see her pained. Strange to say, I knew nothing about her theatrical career, —did not know whether she played under her own name, whether she were a successful actress or otherwise. . I had simply put the whole subject away from my mind as something unpleasant. The house was packed, and from the moment the 'curtain rose the interest seemed to be intense. The play was a -modern one and of the usual problem type; but it was wholesome and uplifting. As for my friend's acting, I quickly realised that she was a star. She simply carried everything before her by her beauty and talent, and the applause was uproarious. There could be no doubt that the girl was a born actress and as gifted as she was pretty. I could not withhold my admiration, and was as enthusiastic as the rest, laughing and weeping by turns, and hardly realising that it was my young friend who had such power to captivate "me. I remembered, half sadly, that morning in the 'convent chapel, and then I began to wonder if it "could really be this brilliant woman upon whom hundreds of eyes were fixed in admiration that had prattled so innocently to me in the woods a few hours earlier ? When the play was over she came once more upon the stage to bow her thanks to the audience. She wore a shimmering white gown, with pearls, and certainly she looked very lovely. A burst of applause broke from the house, and a rain of flowers fell upon the stage. She bowed and smiled; but the only eyes she sought were mine, and I knew that the innocent smile which lit up her face was intended for me. 'I. may come home with you, may I not?' she asked. ; Yes, of course. But why should you care to come to my dull little home? And you need some refreshment after your exertions.' .

‘ You can give me a cup of tea, and I don’t care for anything else. Do let me come to you! I want to know what you thought of the play and of your, godchild.’ K V:"- E-W

Why, I was perfectly delighted. The play was really excellent. And as for your acting it was splendid. I dare not ask you to give up the stage now. You have wonderful talent.' * ; . .'Not so much, but I have worked very hard. .1 had a great object in view. I never told you that I had a crippled little sister. I have worked to give her the very-best care and treatment. She is nearly cured, and now I need work no more, because a relative has adopted her. Besides, I can give her quite a little fortune from my earnings. Everything. I have will go to her.' . . ■"• ■ ' ' '■'',fi "\ ,> ■" ' But you will go on making a fortune! You have a great career before you,so great than-even I would not dare to hold you back. I shall only trust and pray that God may keep you pure and good always.' She smiled her child's smile and pressed my hands.".. . ,' I felt half ashamed when I led her into my sombre little home and into my quiet sanctum, they were so out of keeping with her radiant beauty; But she did not seem to mind in the least, and appeared quite at ease. Throwing off her cloak, she at once set about arranging the masses of ' flowers she had v brought in from the carriage. My room soon presented quite a festive appearance, and she insisted upon helping me to make tea. > ' 'But, dear, what freak is this?' I ventured to ask. ' Surely you have had many invitations for this evening.'. ' ':' I. \ 'Yes, rather too many,' she answered, laughing; ' but I wanted to spend. my last night with you.'i: : : ' Your last night? What do you mean?' ' " ■>;; 'Only this, my dear godmother! To-morrow I am going to X , to be teacher of elocution in- an academy of the Sisters of Mercy. After two years, perhapsif they will have me, — shall enter the convent of the Sisters of Charity in A——-, where my littde sister was cared for. See what your prayers'have brought about!' . r - '' , ' i * I almost let my cup drop, for my astonishment was complete. But, remembering in time, that it belonged to my mother's best old Worcester set, I retained 1 my presence of mind and put it down quietly. But I was so overcome that I could only stare at the vision opposite to me. It seemed impossible .to believe that this brilliant girl, at the height of her popularity, was going to leave the world and hide herself in a convent school. But I saw by her eyes that she was in deadly earnest. ■'-'•.' '■ 'God's ways certainly are wonderful!' was all I could find to say. Ave Maria. ' - " ;