The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 18 February 1915, Page 3

The Storyteller

THE CHASTENING OF SISTER CLAIRE

The visit to New Orleans would be her first since she entered the convent, and Sister Claire was anticipating it with the eagerness of a child. Devoted as she was to her companions in the Order and absorbed in her dedicated life, there was still about this journey the particular charm of a return to her own people. She was a member of one of the old families from the land of the fleur-de-lis who had entered America through its Southern ports many years before. . Her own particular family group had lingered for a time in the old Louisianian city, then passed northward, while her uncle’s branch of the family remained in the South. As a little girl she had dreamed romantically of those Southern relatives. Having no sisters and brothers, no cousins in the community where her family had pitched its tents, her childish imagination pictured her little kinsmen and wished for their presence in her games. The roots of inherited affections stirred in her childish heart. In her girlhood the older members of the family were associated in a business relation which meant financial loss to her father. For this the New Orleans brother was blamed. The result was a cleavage of affections and business relations. Thereafter the daughter of the Northern branch of the family was discouraged in her affection for her Southern cousins. But youthful sentiment withers slowly. Though their names were not spoken, the Southern cousins continually reappeared in their young relative’s thoughts. Even when she entered the convent they were not forgotten, and gradually it became her custom to pray for them daily. Thus, though she had never seen them, these men and women of her clan were bound to her not by ties of blood only, but by a distinct spiritual union. By one of the roundabout roads which fact and falsehood sometimes travel, she had heard that her father’s brother, after his losses, had gradually fallen away from his Church. She concluded that her cousins were what her father bluntly styled ‘ little pagans,’ and as such she fondly commended them to the Shepherd of straying lambs.

And now, when Sister Claire, in the maturity of her womanhood was to be sent on a very special mission to a distant city, her heart and imagination turned eagerly to her unknown but endeared relatives. Could she find them ?

She had some hope. Their name was unusual. A few years ago she had clipped from a Southern paper which had drifted to her desk the name of a merchant in the city to which she was journeying—her family name. She now placed it in her pocket-book. She would, if possible, go to see them —and who knew what she might accomplish for their spiritual salvation ? The idea became a fountain of enthusiasm. Sister Claire welcomed the day when, having accomplished the purpose for which her Superior had designed the visit, she was free to undertake this more personal devoir, this intimate, Heaven-directed duty. Then she took the slip containing her family name to the Sister in charge of the parlor. In response to her inquiry the Sister said that she knew the name — it was one of some prominence in the city —but she did not know if its bearers were Catholics. Sister Claire decided to write a note declaring her own identity and asking if the person addressed was a member of her family. The response stated that the recipient was the child of Sister Claire’s uncle, and he and his brothers and sisters were living —living together in somewhat patriarchal fashion—and that his wife and sister would like to call for Sister Claire the following morning to escort her home to make the acquaintance of the whole family, now eager to see her. The next day’ Sister Claire went, gladly forth to make the acquaintance of 1 her own.’ She learned something of the family from the two gracious and dig-

nified matrons who called for her. They had transplanted their Old World tribal loyalties to American soil, and had preserved the family as an ideal unity—offering an example of love and unselfish filial and fraternal piety. Sister Claire felt as if she were being initiated into the beautiful ■ traditional ideals which had given her family a dignified position in the Old World and some strength and standards in the New. The two women talked with inherited French volubility during the ride home, telling her about this and that member of the family, preparing her for all the new acquaintances she was about to make. So much description, so much rapid sketching of the large family’s various personalities, so much revelation of the speakers’ own exuberant natures, so many polite, considerate questions about herself so filled the conversation that poor Sister Claire had little opportunity to put the question burning in her heart.

At last her two voluble companions paused simultaneously to draw breath—for further dissertation !—- and Sister Claire contrived to ask And where does this large clan go to church?’ ' The answer, ‘St. Paul’s,’ did not leave her much the wiser. Before she could press another direct question the carriage had stopped, and the two women were exclaiming, ‘ Here we are Sister Claire’s quick vision noted that the. house they were about to enter was apparently comfortable. Though not new, it attested good housekeeping. The two chatty dames briskly resumed the family chronicle :

You will find us in an old home, Sister, but a comfortable one. It is the old Le Blanc mansion. We wish to live together—and it is difficult,to find a newer house large enough to shelter our numerous family,’

The purpose of spacious shelter was evidently well accomplished. This she observed as they ered the wide hall with its spreading wings of large rooms on either side. She was ushered into one of these rooms after the several greetings which awaited her in the hall. Almost conventual simplicity ! There were a. few pictures on the walls, and these of a religious nature —a copy of the Madonna della Sedia, of the Leonardo Last Supper, of a Fra. Angelico or so. But this proved nothing definite.

Then Sister Claire was ushered into a sumptuous dining-room, whose ‘note’ in furnishings ami viands was comfort, and around the luxurious board her hitherto unknown lovely family assembled. There were a few matrons — her cousins or her cousins’ wives —a few youths and maidens, several little people —a truly patriarchal assembly, reflected the guest of honor, thoroughly charmed by the harmony and affection that seemed to prevail.

Still more delighted was the visitor when, once everybody was assembled, the eldest member of the family addressed Sister Claire :

‘ Perhaps you would say grace for ns, Sister— T yield to you.’

Sister Claire bowed, while the thought: ‘A Christian household, at least,’ flashed rapid reassurance. If she had not closed her 7 es for the ‘ Bless us, O Lord,’ she might have seen the sign of the Cross made around the table. Then as they chatted around her, warming her heart with their affection, Sister Claire remarked :

‘ How ideal for you to live together this way !’ ‘Yes, it’s like a scriptural tribe, isn’t it?’ said one

cousin smiling from the head of the table

‘ The only trouble we have, Sister, is in finding a roof wide enough to shelter us.’

‘ You seem very comfortable,’ said Sister Claire, glancing at the healthy 7 faces around the table. ‘ You seem to have even space to spare.’ ‘ Not much.,’ laughingly answered several of the younger ones. Sister Claire could not resist continu-

mg: ‘ I was thinking of the large spare room you took mo into on my arrival.’

‘ Oh, that is the room we reserve for morning prayers. There is such an army of us, that when we assemble there’s no room for furniture. Of course, the servants are always present, too.’

And this was the family site had hoped to bring back to the Church, to bring back en masse! Dear, faithful, pious bister Claire's heart knew a moment of chastening. . . . She was divided between profound spiritual gratification and amusement at herself. It is indeed gratifying,’ she said gently, ‘ to find you such good Catholics-1 really, if you will pardon me, thought to find you otherwise—' the ■ eldest cousin smiled. ‘Had you come ten yeais ago you might have .found some of us “otherwise.” '

■Sister Claire’s eyes were questioning. 1 es, some of us are more recent acquisitions than others. You know our father had drifted away.’ 'May I ask how you happened to return V Sister asked gently. .. ,

‘ I wish you would I rather like to tell,’ answered her cousin. ( occupation as a young man,’ he continued, threw me into association with large groups of busy men, working industriously, often feverishly. I was fond of them, as a rule; but blasphemy was a habit with some . and I could not endure hearing them call the Lord s name in irritation. I hated such language, perhaps because of some leaven of protest inherited from religious ancestors or learned from my mother’s gentle training. I had, however, noticed that one of my associates, though distinctly hot-tempered and frequently tried, never indulged such language. I caught him looking at me in half amused all approving fashion one day when L was annoyed by it. There s really no need for that talk,” I growled to his sympathetic ear.

‘ “None in the least,” he assented, and our mutual provocation linked us into a specific fellowship. One evening soon after, I. met him as 1 was taking a walk. Where are you going?” J asked, wishing to secure his society lor my walk if he had no other

engagement.

1 m on my way 7 to a. meeting of the Holy Name Society,” he answered.

“What’s that?” I inquired. ‘lie explained, in a dignified manner, adding as he concluded ;

“lon d better come along- I notice you don’t ke the ‘swear words’ any better than T do.”

‘“I’ll walk as tar as the church with you, anyhow,” I said.

At the church gate he said again: “Better come inl’m sure you’d be welcome.”

‘ “Don’t care if I do,” I assented —a little curious about the society and its possible influence along lines L somewhat unconsciously followed.

‘ That was the beginning. I was impressed that evening. I met the priest who was present I went again; and my little leaven of reverence for the Holy Name, I suppose, worked in my heart to do the rest.’

Sister Claire was deeply gratified. She had no little tinge of regret that one object of her visit to her cousin’s city had been already excellently accomplished.

On her return home, she told the elderly chaplain the story 7 , smiling as she described the wholesale conversion she had intended to accomplish had not the Lord’s grace anticipated her. Good Father William smiled.

‘ Who knows, my child, if the long prayers of your early years did not have much to do with it.’ — The Magnificat.