The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 3 June 1915, Page 3

The Storyteller

AN EASTER LILY ' Elaine, it always has been the dream of my life to paint your picture. Will you permit me to choose the pose and paint you as you stand now, with your arms full of those lilies?' Elaine paused, with one foot on the stone step. A beautiful blush rose to her face as she lifted her eyes to those of the young artist. ' I should like to have you paint it, Gerald. Perhaps I will if my mother gives her consent. But what a strange conceit! Pray, what title would you bestow on such a picture ' I should call it "An Easter Lily," ' Gerald responded promptly. ' The flowers have a signification, and Elaine was called "the lily maid," so it would be very appropriate.' Elaine smiled as she bent caressingly over the fragrant flowers. ' Indeed, they are significant, fitting type of tomorrow's glorious feast. To me they are the fairest and purest of the blossoms laid at the feet of the risen Christ. But come, Gerald, we must hasten. The sun is already low, and there is yet much to be done. These lilies I am going to arrange around the tabernacle.' She ascended the steps as she spoke and entered the tasteful brick structure dedicated to the Immaculate Conception.- Gerald followed, and they were soon busy with the decorations for Easter. When they were completed the two young persons, a comely pair, walked down the street toward Elaine's home. ' Elaine,' asked Gerald, as they walked along, ' why does your mother object to our engagement?' ' I don't know, Gerald. I cannot imagine. I think it is only a fancy, for surely she has no good reason.' ' I know I am poor, as yet ; my prospects are excellent, and ' ' I am so wealthy,' interrupted Elaine with a laugh. r You might marry some one with wealth,' said the young man. 'Perhaps Mrs. Archer thinks you should. But wealth dees not always bring happiness. I will devote my life to you and work unceasingly, if only you will ' ' Don't, Gerald,' she said pleadingly. ' Such words only pain me. You know what my feelings are, but I never could marry without mother's consent and blessing.' Gerald looked rebellious. He was young and ardent, and lie thought Mrs. Archer unreasonable and her daughter too dutiful. ' What shall we do —permit a foolish prejudice to make miserable too lives?' 'No, Gerald,' the girl said softly. We are yet quite young. Let us wait awhile and see what changes time will bring. Remain wedded to art for the present and I shall try to repay mother a little for all that she has done for me.' The proud eyes softened. ' Ah, Elaine, you are too good for me.' ■ ' Indeed no—your eves are blindedbut I will be faithful, Gerald. Believe that and trust in God's goodness.' They had reached the gate leading into the neat cottage that was Elaine's home. 'Good-bye, Gerald,' she said, smiling at him. ' Will I see you to-morrow V he asked, detaining her a, moment. 'Perhaps at church,' she answered. 'Well, remember about the picture—"An Easter Lily." With your face for an inspiration, it shall be my masterpiece.' Elaine's eyes dropped beneath their deep fringed lashes and her lips trembled. ' God grant that it will bring you every happiness,' she whispered. *****

:.- Long ago the good people of Brier Hill: had decided that Mrs. Archer, the most competent dressmaker in the ; place, was a very peculiar woman. • .'.- ; She had lived among them since Elaine was a little child, but so reticent was she that none knew aught of her past life. She professed no religious belief, and never entered a church, but she had reared her daughter in the Catholic faith, and though it cost her days and nights of extra toil she had Elaine educated at the Convent of the Holy Angels, a beautiful spot some miles distant. When Elaine returned home, with the mien of a gracious princess, her mother would not permit her to share her ofttimes arduous tasks. But the greatest wonder was her objection to Gerald Neville, the gifted young artist who aspired to Elaine's hand. The widow was criticised, of course, but few ventured to penetrate behind the barrier of reserve with which she met all proffers of advice. When Elaine entered the room after parting with Gerald she found her mother at the window bending over a dainty garment designed for an Easter bride. Her pale face brightened at her daughter's approach. 'Plow tired you look, mother !' said Elaine. 'Please let me finish that work,' and she took it gently from the half-reluctant hands. For once, Mrs. Archer sat in perfect idleness, leaning back in her chair and looking at her child's exquisite profile, silhouetted against the window in the fast waning light, and watching the slender white hands moving swiftly over the silken fabric. ' Elaine. ' Yes, mother.' ' Mother!' A spasm of pain crossed the pale face, as Mrs. Archer repeated the word. ' Child—to hear your lips pronounce that name I have lived for eighteen years with my soul in jeopardy !' 'Mother!' ejaculated Elaine, and this time the sweet voice was tremulous. ' Are you ill ? Why do you speak so strangely ?-' ' Not ill in body, but I saw you and Gerald standing at the gate, and I feel that it is time to speak. Besides, I. cannot live this way any longer. I must right the wrong I have done, if indeed it is not too late. Elaine, I am not your mother. The dainty garment slipped from Elaine's hands. Tier pale lips spoke the words mechanically, then she sat like a marble image. ' No—only your foster mother.. Your mother was thought to be in a decline when 1 took you —a feeble infant only a few months old. I had a child—a little girl a month your senior. The physician who attended your mother recommended a sea voyage for her, and the country for you. Your father took her to Italy. As soon as possible, my husband, who was a nurseryman, secured a good position and we moved to the country. There we lived, a secluded but pleasant life until you were nearly two years old. I grew to love you very dearly, and no one where we lived knew that you were not my own child. In the meantime your mother's health continued delicate, and your parents remained abroad. A great grief came suddenly upon me. In one week I was widowed and childless. My husband was killed in a railway accident and my little Ellen died of diphtheria. You, too, had the disease, but recovered. Almost heartbroken, for I knew that when your parents returned they would claim you, I yielded to temptation, and wrote, telling them their child was dead. The little grave beside the waters of the Potomac in your native State is marked by a stone on Which is inscribed, ".Elaine Norwood: aged two years.'' I did wrong, and I have repented bitterly, but I loved you so I could not give you up.' ' Mrs. Archer was sobbing, but Elaine sat with bright, dry eyes. ' Are my parents still living she asked in a hollow voice. ' I don't know. They sold their old Virginia home soon after their return from abroad. But for many years I have had no news of them.' ' And what will you do?'

'o,' I have decided to see Father ' Curran and ask him to make inquiries.' •■- /- I .:.:- :-/ . ,-a/ : -V; - Were 'my ' parents members of ' the ; ■Catholic Church?' ';■ ,;\- ' . V;: ".'Z ;.',., ..-'V' No,' Mrs. Archer answered. ' Your father was not a member of any church, and your mother, I believe, was an Episcopalian.'.. :- .'lt seems strange then,' said Elaine, 'that you reared me a Catholic' - i A deep flush rose, to Mrs. Archer's face. ' I was once a Catholic, and when you were very ill I had you baptised. It was perhaps unwise, for I know that your parents would have objected if they had known. But you don't regret it, do you, Elaine?' 'Regret it?' Elaine's voice had lost its cold constraint. She rose and went to where Mrs. Archer sat still weeping. She knelt beside her and took one trembling hand in both her own. •"••". ' No, indeed, and on my knees I thank you. You have done wrong, but you erred through love, and you have been to me the best of mothers. You have bestowed upon me a priceless heritage, and my earnest prayer is that God may restore to you peace of conscience.' ' Heaven will bless you, my child. Now you know the reason of my struggle to give you the best educational advantages. Your parents, with all their wealth, could not have done better. You know, too, why I did not wish your affections to become engaged. It was not because I objected to Gerald Neville, for I esteem him highly. It was for your own good. I wanted to give you back heart-whole to your parents, if ever I found them.' . ' I fear you have spoken too late,' said Elaine, the blush of maidenly modesty dyeing her face as she rose to her feet. ' Gerald is so dear to me that his image seems stamped upon my heart!' & * * * * * It was nearly a year later: and inconstant April, with its smiles and tears was ushering in another Easter. In a pleasant city in the North, some miles from- the pretty village of Brier Hill, three strangers, a gentleman, his wife and daughter, were engaged in sight-seeing. Among the places of interest they visited the art exhibition. Passing from one picture to another they admired and criticised, until they came to a painting, before which all stood in breathless silence. It was called 'An Easter Lily.' The dark background gradually paled, as it extended upward, until a light resembling the glory of approaching sunrise brightened the canvas. Against it, clearly outlined, stood a beautiful girl. Classic folds of snowy white fell from the graceful shoulders, and a cluster of Easter lilies nestles in the embrace of one arm. The fair face was slightly lifted. Golden hair waved back from a broad, low brow, and the eyes, blue as the fringed gentian, were filled with expectancy. 'Beautiful, isn't it, mamma?' said the young girl, at last breaking the silence. ' Why, Edith,' said the lady, ' it is wonderfully like you. The same shaped face, the same eyes, hair of the same color. But the expression is different. This face is almost angelicyet full of nobility and dignity.' She turned to her husband. 'ls it not marvellous, Herbert?' ' It is very beautiful,' he answered. 'We must find out the artist's name, then we must find him, if it is possible. This picture shall be mine if money can purchase it,' said the lady. They found the artist's studio in a large, gloomy building, and over the door was the name ' Gerald Neville.' Gerald's face paled as he read on the card presented by the gentleman, ' Herbert Clifton Norwood.' ' Mrs. Norwood and my daughter, Mr. Neville,' he said pleasantly. 'We have seen your painting, "An Easter Lily," and wish to know if it is for sale?' It seemed to Gerald, as he looked from one eager face to the other, that all he held dear in life was receding from him. What a. labor of love had been the painting of ' An Easter Lily,' but then hope was high

in his. heart; now, -instinctively lie-knew the cun of joy would be dashed from his trembling hand ere it reached his lips. . ‘ The picture is for sale,’ he said, controlling his emotion. • b Mam so glad,’ said Mrs. Norwood ; 1 but will you tell me if it is painted from a model ?’ Gerald hesitated. The picture has done what all Father’s Curran’s efforts and inquiries had failed to accomplish. ' Elaine had told him on the day he heard from Mrs. Archer her strange story, that if her parents were not found before another Easter dawned he might lead her to the altar soon afterward. Then the thought came; Why do you reveal what need never be known?’ Suddenly the remembrance of Mrs. Archer’s action recurred to him. He had thought her weak and contempt mingled with his pity. And here he was contemplating the same thing, and for the same motive —a. selfish love. ‘ Yes, madam,’ he answered, ‘ the model is my betrothed.’ ‘ Indeed ! It is strange, perhaps, but I think she must resemble my daughter. It was the likeness that first drew my attention to lie picture.’ ‘ I noticed the resemblance, too,’ said Gerald, and Miss Norwood blushed. ‘ L suppose your betrothed resides in the city?’ continued his interrogator. ‘No madam, she lives in Brier Hill, some miles distant. Her name is Elaine Archer.’ A change passed over Mrs. Norwood's face. Pale and trembling, she sank into a chair. Her husband, who had been listening with an amused smile to her questions, turned quickly. ‘ElaineElaine Archer! Is it, can it be our Elaine whom we thought dead? Can-that woman have deceived us?’ Mrs. Norwood was greatly agitated. ' I always thought her conduct strange,’ she went on. ' and she disappeared so mysteriously. Tell me,- sir : do you know aught of this Elaine's past life?’ ‘ I know, and have known since you entered my studio, that Elaine is your daughter. A year ago Mrs. Archer confessed her duplicity, , and during that time she has had an efficient person searching for you.’ * * ■>- * It was over —‘ the cruel pang of parting.' One day about two weeks later, Mrs. Archer and Gerald sat together in the little parlor where ho had painted ‘ An Easter Lily.’ ‘I knew how it would be,' said he sadly, but the separation came sooner than 1 expected. Now the ocean rolls between us, and 1 am in honor bound neither to see her nor write to her for three long years. ally, ‘but take courage. Elaine will never cease to love you. Devote your time to art, and don t indulge in useless repining. Strive every day to become more worthy of her. My own life seems barren, too, and the tears rolled down her pale cheeks. ‘ Your words give me hope,' said Gerald. ‘lt shall be my earnest endeavor to make myself more worthy of her.’ * * -A' * * Two years rolled away. Gerald had won marked recognition in the world of art. He had become a social favorite as well, and many bright eyes sparkled and fair faces were lighted with smiles at his approach. But for him there was only one face, and it haunted his dreams and filled his waking hours with longing. Through Mrs. Archer he sometimes heard of Elaine, bwfc-ahe. was faithful to the promise made her parents, and no message ever cheered his lonely heart. In the meantime a great surprise was in store for Mr. and Mrs. Norwood. From the first moments of their meeting, Edith’s love for her newly-found sister had been remarkable. Elaine’s character was a revelation of all that was good and beautiful. ' Such nobility of soul, such gentleness, forbearance and piety were gifts truly deserving of emulation. After profound thought, followed by earnest prayer, Edith accepted the

same faith that had brought her sister such consolation in all her trials. If; it was another disappointment her parents bore it well, and when, on her return to her native land, she asked their permission to retire from the world, and join those holy women who wear ' the livery of heaven,' they did not refuse. J/. Elaine bade the sister she had grown to love so well a tender adieu, and while her tears fell, in her heart she believed that she had ' chosen the better part.' : The months glided apace, for ' time knows not the weight of sleep or weariness/ and the third Easter-tide lighted the world. -■ ... The glorious day was drawing to a close. The crimson brightness of the dying sun shone through the window and fell on 'An Easter Lily' faintly tinging the classic folds of the snowy gown. Elaine stood, her eyes looking beyond the mountainous vista, beyond the purple clouds lined with the roseate glow of sunset, as if she fain would read what lay beyond. Lost in contemplation, she heard no footfall, until her father's voice auoused her from her reverie. She turned quickly and Gerald stood before her, his eyes illumined with the same light that shone there on that Easter eve years before. ' Elaine' was all he said, but he clasped her to his heart, and in the joy of meeting the long years of waiting were forgotten and the future, bright as the vesper sky, lay before them all unclouded.-— Catholic Universe.