OCR Text |
Show ! v ... Hoys and Girls... EDITED BY AUNT BUSY. them all the advice and talpWjSi ' Writ on one side of th paper only Do not have letters too Ion. I Original stories and verses win k - j, end carefully edited. be C,adIy rcel beTetUSeSUSCrlPt f contr,butloi not accepted wlD riSSflSt 'Sg dtr. Aunt Busr- Int'- j THE TYROLEAN CRUCIFIX. j For twenty-four hours it had been raining stead-" ilj, and the young people, tired of enforced seclu-Jion. seclu-Jion. had donned their waterproofs and pone out tor a walk. Thee months ago they had been strangers stran-gers but, with their elders, they had now been traveling together for nine weeks, and felt as tnoupn they had knowneach other for a lifetime. 1 here were six in the party the Parkers '( Amer- leans), with their only daughter, and the Winstons , lu,lfVlsh PeoPle), with their son. Herbert Winston ; had been educated at Stonyhurst; his family had been Catholics from time immemorial, and, while, their religion was altogether unobtrusive, it was a vital part of their lives. The Parkers, on the contrary, con-trary, were members of that great company which, for want of a better name, its votaries style the "Broad church," and broad indeed it is. In the beginning it had never occurred to the Winstons that there was danger in the constant intimacy of their son and Natalie Parker. But of late it had caused the mother some disquietude. Xatalie was a beautiful and charming girl, with just enough independence of character to render her very attractive to the somewhat conservative young Englishman, who, up to the present time, had seemed indifferent to all girls. The elder Wins-tons would not have objected to an American daughter-in-law, but they had a decided objection to a Protestant wife for their only son. That very morning Herbert had confided to his mother his fineciion ior .atane ana ms aesire 01 mating ner his wife. "But, Herbert," she had said, "while I like her very much, and acknowledge that she is charming, she is not a Catholic. The Winstons have always married Catholics. To me, the fact of her being a Protestant is an almost insurmountable barrier to r- a marriage between you." , , , f "Oh, no, mother V rejoined Herbert, confidently. ''I can't say. of course, whether she cares for me r not ; but if she does, everything else will be easy. She is really not a Protestant the Parkers do not belong to any church. That gives me a good start, f v Her mind, free from bias, can be the more readily r trained to accept the truths of our religion. I really real-ly do not anticipate the least difficulty from that riuartc-r. All I fear is that she may not care enough for me to marry me. I wanted to speak to you first; you'll mention it to father for me, and then 111 address myself to Mr. Parker before saying a word to Xatalie.'' "I am glad you are taking the old-fafhioned way rbout it." said Mrs. Winston. "Nowadays everything every-thing usuallv settled before the parents are consulted."' con-sulted."' "Well. I may be a bit old-fashioned.'' replied the young man. "I believe, however, it is the best way." From which it may be inferred by the up-to-date reader that Herbert Winston was something f a prig, which would be far from the truth. In ordinary matters he was-a very independent and broud-minded individual; but, true to his tradition tuid training, he regarded the case in point as something some-thing above the ordinary in which he was right. At the same time, in their own apartment, Mrs. Parker was conversing on the same subject with lu-r daughter. "Xatalie, I think Mr. Winston is deeply interested inter-ested in you. Unless you reciprocate the feeling, you ought to be on your guard. He is too fine a fellow fel-low to be treated badly." "I do not intend to treat him badly, mamma; T like him very much far better than any one I have ever seen." "Could you marry him!' Xatalie screwed her pretty eyebrows together. "I am sure I could," she replied after a moment. "He is as good as he can be, good-looking, too. and . we are very congenial. I think I could spend my v life with him very happily; I don't at all believe I should tire of him. He has tood the test of conr 1 -JL- "'at companionship and travel splendidly, and I f do not Think there is a more exacting test. You f know I don't believe much in the nonsense about ! ' passion, and so forth; my education has fitted me I ) for something different. But. I am surprised my-, my-, ' self at the feeling with which I regard Mr. Win-u Win-u " tton." "Co-education unfits women for much that an older generation possessed," said Mrs. Parker. "It mp.kes a girl cold-blooded." "Yes, I think you are right," answered Xatalie. 'Put ;t mot-Pc her Kolf-reliant also, and that is I what the majority of women need. ' "The Winstons are Catholics," resumed Mrs. I ) Parker, vaguely, after some moments. "We have not known many Catholics, Xatalie. I have always had an idea they were different, somehow. But they are not in any way peculiar, are they I mean the Winstons?" in "Oh. no, mamma, quite broad and very cultured! We don't live in the Middle Ages, you know. We had a Catholic girl in our class at college a Miss Omdigan. She was extremely clever. One of the girls said her name was really O'Madigan, but that the tried to Anglicize it. T don't know about that, of course. She was very liberal always kind and gentle to everybody." "I don't believe the Winstons are at all prejudiced," preju-diced," observed Mrs. Parker. "I fancy they are quite' strict in Borne ways. Don't you remember how thv persisted in going down the mountain to their 'masses, in the midst of terrible rain, those two Sundays?" . "The English are like that, whatever their r creed," said Xatalie. "They never mind the I weather." - , . , , . "IV " replied Mrs. Parker, with a little shiver, I laving her hand on the warm porcelain stove, as J 7 fhV glanced out of the window, against which the I P raindrops were splashing. "He might want you to be a Catholic. Xatalie," she said. I But Xatalie burst into a merry laugh. O, I mother," she replied, "how ridiculous we are talk- ing! I can't fancy any combination of circumstances circumstan-ces which would make me a Roman Catholic. An hour later the maid had knocked at the door with a little note from Mr. Winston, asking if M s Parker would accompany him for a walk. Miss K t hastied to avail herself of the invit i ion and in a few moments the two set out. together They were a comely pair; neither minded the rain but rather rejoiced in it, and in the. cxhi ara- ton'poVueed f Irind Thev were in the Tyrol, and, in spito of the eather. everything about them was conducive of 7h - spirit ir T which both found themse ves As thev swung down the narrow pathway, not talking Zxb. but feeling the .expressive silences- do only lovers, or those on the verge of being lovers to both of them it seemed a very good thing to t it- T ne' at least' that Tyrolean scene and that delightful companionship were the best things in all the world. Herbert Winston thought the girl beside him the perfection of grace, beauty and sweetness ; while .Natalie felt herself dominated by a shyness to which she had hitherto been a stranger. For the first time she avoided the glance of her companion; a soft blush suffused her charming face when he addressed ad-dressed her. If it had not been entirely against his principles and the code in which he had been educated, edu-cated, Herbert Winston would have learned his fate then and there. As it was, we doubt whether he would have had strength to abide by them till the end of the walk had it not been for a circumstance which took place when they were about half way down the mountain. At a sudden turn of the road they .came upon a wayside crucifix, under its penthouse of carven oak, placed there to mark the falling .of , an avalanche ava-lanche by which several persons had lost their lives. Before it, in the pelting rain, knelt a man, bareheaded bare-headed and barefooted, his arms extended, his eyes uplifted to the figure on the cross. Beside him lay the shepherd's staff and Avallet, which marked his occupation. As they passed "the crucifix, Herbert Winston removed his hat and reverently bent his head. 'The spontaneous act, so simply and piously performed, irritated his compaion. After they had passed, she asked in a half -petulant tone : "Why did you do that ? It does not fit in at all with what I know of us." Winston turned to her in mild surprise. "I hardlv understand you," he said. iCYou are so sane, so sensible in every way. I cannot bear to see you dofliing your hat to a wooden figure on the wayside." A peculiar expression flashed across Herbert's countenance. "It is what that figure represents, what the crucifix cru-cifix means the greatest thing that has ever happened hap-pened in the world its redemption." "It makes me shiver to think of it," she said; "and almost angry to see one of your broad intelli- "There are hundreds of thousands more intelligent intelli-gent than I who believe it," he answered gravely. "A hundred years from now those believers will be very few," she said. "The world is moving fast." "To its own perdition, I fear," remarked Winston, Win-ston, mildly. IC1 am afraid we could never agree on that point, Miss Parker." , She looked up at him bewitchingly, her irritation irrita-tion gone. But his glance was turned thoughtfully down the valley they were approaching. It rested, a little sadly perhaps, on the gilt cross of the village church, where a ray of sunlight the first that stormy day- glittered for a moment, and then slowly slow-ly faded. "Shall we return?" he asked after a short silence. si-lence. "You will be tired." "Yes, let us go back," she replied. "It will soon be lunch time." When they passed the crucifix again the man was gone. They saw him toiling up the mountainside, mountain-side, the heavy wallet on his fihoulder. Winston knelt for an instant and made the Sign of the Cross, then bent his head reverently, stifling a sigh. It was the moment of renunciation. When he rose his face wbb pale, but illumined. Xatalie thought he had never looked bo handsome. But something had gone from the hour, from the scene-; though the sun was now shining brightly, bright-ly, and the raindrops sparkled like diamonds on the trees and mountain shrubs around them. Something Some-thing had departed, too, from the camaraderie and joy of their auspicious moment had passed; that nothing could ever again be as it had been between them, and. naturally quick-witted, she wa not slow to guess the reason. Therefore, it was no surprise to her the next day when the Winstons announced that they were leaving. Herbert's mother knew, and Xatalie's probably surmised the reason, .and both were well pleased. Ten years later, Herbert Winston sat on the lawn of his house in Devonshire, reading the Times. His wife, a comely young matron, was beside him; two children were playing near them. In the distance, dis-tance, the old people walked in the garden, enjoying enjoy-ing the summer flowers and the fresh evening air. A smile flitted across the face of the younger man. He laid down the paper, his eye3 reflecting for a moment some inward thought of reminiscence. Then they rested lovingly on the face of hia wife, on the pretty, graceful children. But he said nothing of the face that had captivated him years ago in the Tyrol. His wife would never have expected ex-pected it; she would have been an extraordinary Englishwoman to have thought it her due. What Winston had read was the following: "Among the delegates to the Suffragette convention con-vention is the celebrated woman's rights lecturer and writer, Miss Xatalie Parker, daughter of the well known banker and capitalist, Pillsbury Parker, Philadelphia. Pennsylvania. Miss Parker has dedicated dedi-cated her life to the uplifting and regeneration of her sex." "Thank Godl" said Herbert Vmston to himself; him-self; "thank God for the Tyrolean crucifix! It precipitated pre-cipitated what would have been inevitable in any case, but what might have been more and more difficult, dif-ficult, for me at least, as time went on. And so entirely did that circumstance change everything that I scarcely felt a pang. I shall always bless that ctoss." After dinner, as they all sat in the library,, Winston Win-ston handed the paper to his mother, pointing out the paragraph that had given him cause for thought. Placidly knitting under the shadow of the lamp, his wife did not raise her head, beautiful with its crown of light brown braids. The husband's eyes rested lovingly upon her. Life had all of happiness hap-piness that he expected or desired. After a mo-, mo-, ment his mother looked up from the paper and smiled, but she said nothing. In her heart she thanked God for that walk in the Tyrol Ave Maria. Melia's Great-grandmother. Mella was hanging the tea towels on the lilac and barberry bushes. A pair of catbirds were crying raucously, perhaps in protest at this defacement of natural beauty, or possibly with a more personal thought of certain little slate-gray fledgelings not far off, which they would not have disturbed. Usually Usual-ly Mella would have been quick to notice the old bird's distress, but just now her brow was contracting contract-ing at the sound of another voice a dear old, rather quavering voice. Great-grandmother was sitting in her sunny window not far above Melia's head. She was entertaining a visitor, the great-grand-aunt of one of Melia's own friends a brisk, fresh-faced, fresh-faced, little old lady who. threescore and ten years before, had gone to school with great-grandmother. "I've been putting up gooseberry jam'she was saving in a tone of comfortable satisfaction with life in general and with herself in particular. "Nineteen glasses of it! The children are so f ond'of it ! They think there isn't anything to equal it for their lunch-baskets, and their mother is so busy from morning to night, she don't get a minute's min-ute's time to fuss with preserving. So it sort of falls on me naturally. ,1 always was a gTeat hand for canning and preserving, and I said to Hetty, 'Just leave it to me !' " It was little Great-grandmother's answer that had contracted Melia's forehead. "Someway I can't help 'most envying you," she had said. "There's always al-ways something you can be doing to help. I think I miss that most of all, since I've been getting older not being not being really needed." The blood rushed to Melia's temples. Not indeed! in-deed! Little Great-grandmother not needed! The painful absurdity of the idea! She had to check a quick impulse to step out from the shelter of the bushes and declare herself an unwilling eavesdropper, eavesdrop-per, to take little Great-grandmother in her arms and tell her what a mistake, what a big, awful mistake mis-take she was laboring under. .Why, how could any of them get along without that dear, peaceful, loving lov-ing face ! But it wouldn't do to step out just yet. Great-grandmother Great-grandmother would be so distressed beyond measure to think she had been overheard. The sweet old voice was going on now, with that soft patience that characterized it: "They're all so good to me sometimes some-times seems like I can't bear it not to be doing anything any-thing in return. But thero don't seem to be much of anything I can do. I always try to find ways to help but it's so different with me from the way it is with you. They don't need me to help. They do their own preserving and Mella, dear, blessed child, is so spry and .quick she does as much as three ordinary ordi-nary girls, and can't bear that I should lift a finger. She's so good to me every single one of them is. I often think I can't be grateful and thankful enough." But there was a little tremor in her voice. A minute more, and Mella had managed to make her escape to the house, much to her own relief as well as to the catbirds'. Of course she found mother at once, and poured it all out to her. And the soft brown eyes, so like Melia's, answered with quick sympathy! "Bless her! Bless her!" said mother. Grandmother not needed! How little she knows, if she thinks that! She 'helps' when she doesn't 'lift a finger,' but if she wants to be doing more, and I know she does, we must manage it so she can." Somehow, quick memories came to both of them, of the eager little attempts Great-grandmother had made so many, many times. "Let me do it !" "Oh, .on'f T lir.tr,?" r,omf , that she didn't need to tire herself that way at all. They could do it in two minutes. And oh, dear, dear! such a mistake as they had been making, if the result of it had been to make her feel that not only her exertions, but she herself wasn't needed. It was that very afternoon that Mrs. Bassett went into the 6unny upstairs room where Great-grandmother, Great-grandmother, arranging some already orderly bureau bu-reau drawers, was humming softly, "Or if on joyful wing, cleaving the sky," and taking a lingering look at a fading daguerreotype of Great-grandfather. Mrs. Bassett went to the point at once, after dropping a kiss on the delicate old cheek. Great-grandmother Great-grandmother never lacked for kisses, with plenty of love back of them, too. "Grandmother," she said, "I've come begging. 5fou were so good yesterday to offer to darn those stockings of Johnny's, and I thought then I could get through with them alone. But I've been so busy I just haven't had a minute's time for it. And he has only the two pairs of tan stockings, too, so if you really don't mind helping me out, I'm going to bother you with them, after all." Bother her! Little Great-grandmother's face was quite radiant as she took the pair of slim-legged tan stockings and looked with peculiar gratification at the yawning heels. "Can't you bring them down to the porch?" mother went on. "Mella and I are sewing there, and somehow it doesn't seem complete without you." "Why, the idea!" The dear old face was so bright and happy that Mrs. Bassett had to look away for a moment. "Your darning is like fancy work!" Mella exclaimed, ex-claimed, when, an hour later, Great-grandmother was taking the last stitches in J ohnny's heel. "I do wonder " the girl stopped with a pretty hesitation on her face, and her grandmother looked up eageriy. "What is it, dear ? Anything I can do ? I'd love to." "It's my new silk stockings, Mella explained, "those lovely drop-stitch ones. One of the stitches dropped in earnest a week ago, and I've dreaded to touch it. I can't darn anywhere near as well as you. But I don't want to bother you to much !" "Bother me !" chirped grandmother. "Just bring 'em out, dear; I'd love to mend 'em. And isn't it beautiful out here on the porcii and cozy?" "I wish you'd let me do the darning every week," she went on blithely, when Mella had admired her mended stocking "better than new, almost," as she expressed it. "I like to darn stockings really." "And I detest it!" said Mella, with equal heartiness, hearti-ness, echoed by her mother. But there was just enough protest made against accepting this offer to keep Grandmother from wondering at any sudden sud-den change of front. It was surprising how many, many ways suggested sug-gested themselves in the days that followed ways that Great-grandmother could help, and really help, too, and without" much fatigue. Somehow, when the raspberries and other fruits came on thick and fast in the garden, grandmother could sec for herself how necessary it was for for to join the bee on the side porch, and lend two tremulously happy old hands to the work of preparing them for the jams and jellies that they all liked so much. "What a shame it would have been to let any of them go to waste !" Mella had said, "and by our all helping this way, see what an array of fruit we're getting for the winter. And it's such fun all working work-ing together!" "Yes, isn't it?" said Great-grandmother. Kcally, it wasn't long before the dear little old lady found herself "needed" in a dozen different directions. di-rections. And oh, how happy it made her! "Grandmother is growing younger-looking all the time," Melia's father said one day. "What do you do to yourself, anyway?" and he patted her shoulder. . "It's just being so happy, I guess," said little Great-grandmother. |