A Complete Story

New Zealand Tablet, Volume L, Issue 27, 12 July 1923, Page 11

A Complete Story

The Faith of the Blind Jasper Sewell entered his well-appointed office briskly, a little past eight on a beautiful June morning. His not handsome face broe its habitual scowl, but this morning the scowl was darker than usual. He flung his secretary a curt greeting, the manner of which seemed to indicate that he begrudged the effort it caused him. He sat down with a grunt and opened his desk viciously. What a pity a man should so conduct himself upon a smiling summer morning! A morning which bore the stamp of the Hand; a morning of radiant sunshine, blooming flowers, and joyful birds! Ever so faintly, from across the way, came the perfume of June roses through the open windows of the office; even the birds evidenced their joy in living by the merry carnival they held just across the street; in the air, glad voices of romping children, lessonward bound, haippy in the thought of vacation days .soon to come. And still the man would not unbend; he could not for there was something radically wrong with his soul. Never had he been known to smile an honest smile; for years it had been the distorted, sneering smile of the scoffer, at all things beautiful. ''Thorpe, who is that old idiot who moons around that rose garden across the street? The old duck with that yellow-haired kid?" Alan Thorpe's gentlemanly face assumed a puzzled look and he hesitated before he replied. "I presume you refer to old Mr. Wethering. He is blind sir. He certainly is fond of that grandson of his, and those roses," he replied. "Bahrosesl hate that sort of mush! I've half a notion to buy that property and put up a warehouse over there. Not a bad location. I notice the old boy coming out of church every morning, too. What's he trying to do—pray himself to death? Then he spends the rest of the morning gadding around the yard with that kid!" Alan Thorpe grew a shade paler and his lips tightened. Very deliberately he arose and went over to the scoffer's desk. —"Mr. Sewell, pardon me if I seem to champion Mr. Wethering and his actions; but it is evident that you do not understand. His faith in his God has taken him daily to Mass for the last six years, with the firm conviction that his sight will one day be restored. Six years ago his visions left him strangely and now his whole life centres around his God, Who, he has sublime faith, will some day restore his sight. Think what it is to walk in darkness! He has never seen that child and keenly misses the sight of the flowers I know he loves so well. His faith is, truly sublime, Mr. Sewell, and I have the greatest respect in the world for him. And nothing would make me happier than to know that he had regained his vision!" "Jasper Sewell's eyes "bulged, half in surprise, half in anger at his secretary's warm defence of the man who was the subject of their conversation. The color came and went in his face, and he gulped, very near to verbal explosion. Indeed, he guffawed. But Alan Thorpe stood his ground; in his gray eyes crept the light of battle. "Mr. Sewell, you were born a Catholic, why do you scoff? Have you no faith whatever?" "Faith, bah! bunk. Yes, I have faith—faith in my ability to outdo : the other fellow! Do others before they do you—that's' my \ faith. Thorpe—if— you say another damn word I'll fige you!" ' •> Alan Thorpe's hands clenched, and he gulped, struggling with an impending outburst of angry words. . A vision

y : - of four little Thorpes came up before him, and with it, 1 the realisation of the utter futility of further argument. W A moment later, pale and tight-lipped, he resumed his seat. He had known for some years that Jasper Sewell was a. '; ; falien-away Catholic; and though he had never learned / s the reason, had often prayed that his employer would some day be brought back into the fold. His anger died but slowly as he thought of the possible destruction, through - . anfy agency of Jasper Sewell's, of the quaint old cottage |> •> across the street. He, for one, would mourn its passing. '( An hour later, Jasper Sewell put on his coat and hat. "I'm going over to see Bolton about that property," he announced, and there was just a trace of malice in his tone. "A month from now there will be an empty lot > over there!" Alan Thorpe did not look up, nor deign to 7 reply. v Andrew Bolton's real estate office lay but a square : . away. Five minutes later Jasper Sewell entered without j\ ceremony, the dingy, littered little room which served as Bolton's sanctum. "Morning, Andrew," he greeted with the easy manner of an old acquaintance. Bolton, a thin, gray, weazened little man, looked up over his spectacles. "Hello, Jasper. What can I do for you this morning?" he queried, indicating a chair. "I want to buy that property of yours across the street from my place," his visitor answered promptly. "There's a lot of ground back of that cottage going to - waste." "Hm! You mean the house occupied by Mr. Wethering?" ' "Exactly." "What do you want to do with it?" Andrew Bolton queried, stroking his chin reflectively. "Well, I've been considering putting up a warehouse some place, and have come to the conclusion that it is about the. best location in the city. What do you say? . f Will you sell it?" ' '' ' ~y "Well, y—es. What will you give me for it?" ■ ; : . "Ten thousand. That's more than it is worth, but I'm willing to strain a. point to got it," Jasper Sewell declared with finality. "You're on, Jasper. I'm a little short of money these days, anyway." Jasper Sewell immediately produced his cheque book and wrote a cheque for the purchase. "You can mail the deed to me at the office. , See you later, Andrew." And as he bent his steps towards the quaint little cottage, a look of smug complacency crept over his face. Five minutes after he had left Andrew Bolton's office he entered the well-kept yard of the Wethering place. A small, still voice seemed to speak to him and, for * brief moment, his steps faltered, indecision written in his - . face. An abrupt turn in the hedge-bordered walk brought him face to face with the. man whom he had determined to oust from the neighborhood. At his side stood the goldenhaired child. Jasper Sewell stared into the sightless orbs of Philip Wethering and winced inwardly under the direct gaze. How fine and clear and gray they were! The old man smiled as Jasper came close, and arc'aed his brows inquiringly. The scoffer cleared Iris thro it. '> "Mr. Wethering, T presume?" v The patriarch smilingly nodded assent.- 6 "My name is Jasper Sewell," continued the visitor briskly. "I have called upon you about a little master j* of business " , , *\' "I am glad to know you, Mr. Sewell, indeed," Philip Wethering replied graciously, "Won't you have a chair?" indicating with that vague gesture, peculiar to a blind person, a chair close by. "This is my grandson, sir, Billy ffliis gentleman is Mr. Sewell. Billy—" ' * ' J . "He's running down the steps after his ball," Jasner Sewell interposed. ~ " ' ' l Philip Wethering, turned.. "Billy, don't go into the ;. . street Excuse me one moment, —" r'- . ' Suddenly the gray, .stooped figure quickened its pn-o W Almost at a run it went down the steps into the noisy street, with an accuracy of direction which, for a blind man, was surprising. , Jasper. Sewell,'the sceptic, the

scoffer, stared' 'in amazement. He doubted even for a brief moment, that the old man was really blind. V A pose perhaps, an obsession of a lunatic. Suddenly the harshj metallic clang of an. electric car dispelled his unkind thought. He started, his face blanching with horror. A tiny figure fell prostrate across the track in the path of the oncoming mass of steel, one small hand outstretched in forlorn hope for a crimson rubber ball, a moment more anddeathNo! a slender, stooped, gray figure dashed in front of the dangerously near car, and cheated the grinding wheels of their prey; it stumbled, recovered and stumbled again, falling to its knees, but holding within its grasp, a tiny frightened child. The scoffer hid his face in his hands. "God in Heaven —that old man! Blind." He wanted to shout n bravo," but a lump arose in his throat. At that instant the Light shone down Aipon Jasper Sewell. Dazedly he went toward the steps, his eyes suspiciously moist. The gray figure with its beloved burden had already risen to its feet and was coming up the steps towards him. Never, till his dying day, did Jasper Sewell forget the beatific smile upon the old man's face, nor his delirious cry of joy as he gained the sanctuary of the rose garden, and sank to his knees, his eyes turned to Heaven, his lips moving in fervent prayer. "Mr. Sewell, rejoice—with memy sight—returned in time ! I see—l see—Billy, you are— like— mother was!" • Jesper Sewell turned away. The faith of the blind the sublimity of it all! How truly had Alan Thorpe spoken! A great longing welled up in his soul. He wanted to go to St. Stephen's to pray. Still dazed, he made his way into the street. During the noon hour, when Alan Thorpe made his daily visit to the Sacrament, he found Jasper Sewell with head bowed in silent prayer. There was a happy supper party in a secluded corner of the rose garden early-that evening, Jasper Sewell and Alan Thorpe were there, likewise Philip Wethering and little Billy, his cherubic countenance scrubbed to a nicety. "Billy," Jasper Sewell asked. "Would you care if I came here to live with you and Grandpa?" "0, no, sir,"'answered Billy promptly. "Would we, Grandpa?" n "I'll come to-morrow, then," Jasper Sewell announced with finality. "And Billy," he continued, drawing out a folded paper, "I have a present for you and Grandpa, and you must accept it!" The paper he spread out upon the table before them was the deed to the property across the street from Sewell and Company.— The Lamp.

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