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Show : iS WINTER KldRT'S TALE. : 4 -4- --4- Two ladies sat conversing' in an elegantly-appointed mom. The elder was a well-preserved woman, of about 65, of clisth;ruished appearance, with the tasy manner that comes' from association- u-ith-polite. society. ..The other was about 7 years of aire, and' showed equal evidence ot pood breeding. Nothing Noth-ing in .their voice or manner would indicate in-dicate "that 'their "eon'-Oersation vs any-thin;? any-thin;? but pleasant. Yet, for one, at last. it might mean the severing of melons ties, the -parting from friends, from home. . .Finally," -10 end the conversation the elder said, as she rose: "Since you seem fully determined, listen to my decision. de-cision. -Hither -you give up this contemplated con-templated disgraceful step at once, or find a home elsewhere," and with a slight inclination, of her head, she left the room. 1 "Find a, home elsewhere; anything but a pleasant prospect for the young woman. Left an orphan at the age of 6, Josephine Grey had been virtually though not legally adopted by her aunt, Mrs. Clarkson, a wealthy, childless widow. The girl was educated at a leading Young Ladies' Academy, and no pains were spared to make her brilliant bril-liant and accomplished, as became the prospective heiress of the wealthy widow. Mrs. Clarkson herself was still a leader in society. Her gowns were of the latest pattern; her receptions the most exclusive; she gave liberally to public charities, and no scandal was ever associated with her name. She was humanely good, and a naturally kind heart often prompted ner to acts of beneficence. Further than this, her religion consisted in keeping a pew in a fashionable church, but she no more cared what was believed or .taught there than the veriest pagan. " Brought up amid such surroundings, it is not surprising that Josephine's ideas of religion should be somewhat vague. Had she been asked about her religious belief she would have an- Iswered that it was of the broadest Kind, and as she was a reader and admirer of Darwin, Huxley and other progressive writers, f he .undoubtedly spoke the j truth. Like her aunt. Josephine.- too, was evceedinglv warm - hearted, easily moved to pity at sight of suffering, and generous to a fault. She was past 26 when an event happened that bid fair to change her whole life. Mrs. Clarkson was spending the summer sum-mer at Lenox, where she had a cottage, .and Joseohine, as usual, accompanied her. One night the household was thrown into a state of excitement by the sudden illness of "Old Mary," a time-tried faithful servant, who was seized with an attack of bilious colic. For awhile it looked as if it might prove fatal, and while one hurried for the doctor and another for the priest, j I Josephine Waited r.n the sick woman, doing all that was possible to relieve her The priest was the first to arrive, and' when he left, the marked change f.r the better in the woman's condition struck Josephine' as something remarkable. remark-able. "I reallv believe it was her superstitious su-perstitious faith in the priest's, power that saved her," she said afterward, ' when sDeaking to her aunt. Josephine's curiosity was . aroused. Here was a study for her. She began to question Mary, and the answers she received astonished her. Mary could rather read nor write.- "Then of what use is it for . you to. go- to. church? asked the young lady. "You do- not understand a word of the Latin that your priest mumbles to himself, and a. praverbook is a sacred volume to you." "I know I cant rade. but sure, I have me bades, miss.", answered Mary. "Your beads! And of what use are thev. pray?" "Of what use, is- it? ! Faith, it's not use alone they are. but " comfort, too. Sure, whin I luk at th' little brass crucifix it reminds me of, our dear Lord," who gev His life for uz. YVhin I bless meself. I think of the Hoiv Trinity, the Father. Son. an' Holy ;host. Thin I say the Creed, an' that tells me the whole life on arth of Our Lord an' I declare me faith in Him an' His Church. After that but what's the use1 in me tellin yer, dear? I'm on v a poor, ignorant crateyur. If yer I want to know about our holy religion, ro an' sec Father Kelly. It's he will tell ver what yer ought to know, an' may'c-od open yer heart to receive his wurds." See a Catholic priest! Such a thought never entered Josephine's head. Indeed, In-deed, her preconceived notions of a priest were such that he was the last jyerson in the world she would think of going to see. She pictured him a red-faced, red-faced, vulgar-looking person, whose aim in life was to wheedle his dupes out of as much money as possible. But Mary rung the changes so often on Father Kelly's virtues and accomplishments, accomplish-ments, that Josephine, without a word t- nv one. at last called on him. Here was another surprise for her. She found the prk'St a venerable, benevolent- J looking gentleman, who spoke unmis-takublv unmis-takublv nood English, with just a sug- gestion of a most musical brofjue. His lund of information -was something to' marvel at. until one learnedthat he had traveled the world over, and had been the intimate friend of the brightest minds in science, literature and art. Josephine was delighted with him, and as the result of repeated visits and instruction, she in a very short time made up her mind to enter the Church. It was the avowal of this determination that brings up to the point at which this eketrh opens. - . . I Though Mrs. Clarkson had no fixed" religious belie., she felt sure of one thing, that Romanism by which she mennt Catholicity was superstitious and vulgar, unspeakably vulgar, if or was it not the religion of the servant girl and the laboring man! So, when Josephine announced that she was about to become a Catholic the old lady was really shocked. She could not believe be-lieve that her niece, brought up amid JUxury and refinement, could so demean herself as to become a Itomaniet. Horrible! Hor-rible! She ought not to take such a step she should not if Mrs. Clarkson could help it, and so, finding all other j means fail, she at last resorted to -threats. I. . Mrs. Clarkson was so indifferent in ..matters of religion that Josephine never nev-er imagined she would object for a mo-; mo-; ment to her becoming a Jew or a Mo-;, Mo-;, 'hammedan, if so inclined. Perhaps she r would not, but a Catholic ah! that was different. The girl had been brought up with the understanding that she would be bountifully provided for by her aunt, and now her -whole future was' suddenly sudden-ly changed. What was she to do? She might teach that at least was fome-- fome-- thing. Ah, weil. God would provide! It was the Wednesday before Christ- - mas. and Josephine was preparing for her baptism, which was to be administered adminis-tered on Christmas morning.-; Mrs. Clarkson was dressed for a dinner party, one of the most brilliant affairs of the season, which wag to be given that night. The sound of the carriage before the door attracted Josephine to. the win-dow. win-dow. Her aunt had just stepped into .the street, which was crowded with a happy, busy throng, gay in the antici- pation of the coming festival: the old lady was just about to enter her brougham when she slipped on the icy i sidewalk and fell heaivly to the pave, i ; ment. Several, passers-by . hurried to i her assistance but she did not move-she move-she was evidently severely hurt." Josephine Jose-phine thought no more of herself, bu - hastened to the sufferer's side. The unconscious un-conscious woman was put to bed and, doctor was hastily summoned. When J he arrived he pronounced the injuries serious. Mrs. Clarkson had not only j fractured Jier leg. but tvs also suffer-I suffer-I ing' from concussion of the brain. . i .-? " It was June before Mrs. Clarkson-wfls able to leave the house.. In the meantime mean-time Josephine, who had had the happiness hap-piness of being received into the Church, was her , faithful attendant. The girl seemed never absent, and the invalid grew to look, to her for everything. every-thing. If a cooling drink was needed, it Was Josephine who prepared it; if a pillow had to be turned, there was no hanVt for the task like Josephine's. It was Josephine who bathed her feverish brow, Josephine who soothingly fanned the patient, and when she grew stronger strong-er it was Josephine's young, stout arm that supported here in her first efforts to walk. ! Mrs. Clarkson had entirely forgotten her threat that her niece should leave her house if she persisted in becoming a Catholic; indeed, she never half meant it. But not for a day since the words had been spoken had the girl failed to think of them. Though her aunt's illness had kept her closely confined con-fined to the house, she had, thanks to the kind offices of Father Kelly, found time to arrange with th Mother Superior Su-perior of an academy for a position as teacher of music and of French. True, the salary was not much, but as she was to live at the convent, she was at least provided with a home, and it was settled that the agreement should go into effect at the beginning of the new school year. One morning, as Josephine was seated with her au0t in the garden of the country house to w hich the invalid had been ouoved, the. girl touched upon the subject that was so near to her. "Dear aunt," she said, "as soon as you feel strong enough to get along without with-out me I shall begin to get ready to leave." "To leave! Why, what do you mean, J my child? Where are you going?'.' j "I have secured a position as a teacher, teach-er, and must prepare for it." "A teacher! You! What do you mean? Do not trifle with, me, Josephine. Joseph-ine. I am not yet strong enough to stand it." "I am not joking, auntie. On' the very day of your accident I told you of my determination to become a Catholic and you bid me either relinquish my choice or find a home elsewhere." "Well, my dear, you have surely-abandoned surely-abandoned that whim?" "On the contrary, auntie. God has given me light to see the truth, and I dare not reject it. I am now and for many months have teen a Catholic. To part with you will grieve me deeply, but I trust myresolution will not fail me." "And you are willing-to give up your comfortable' home and take up, a battle for life all for an idea" ' "Pardon me. auntie, not for an idea; for the truth." "And I am not to be considered at all, I suppose. A childless woman, grown old and feeble, I am to be left alone, with no one to soothe my. -declining years, with none but servants to close my eyes1 at the last!" "Oh, auntie, dear, don't talk so! I would do anything in the world for you." . "Would you stay with me in spite of your being a Catholic?" "Why, what a question! Being a Catholic has not lessened my love for you; on, the contrary, it is now, if possible, pos-sible, stronger than ever." "And if I should tell you," said the old lady, with a shrewd look, "that my entire fortune has been swallowed up in the whirlpool of speculation?" "I am young and can work, thank God!" throwing her arms around her aunt's neck. '. "That will do, my child." said Mrs. Tlarkson.-dryly, e "I" haven't lost, my fortune. That'was only a little stupid artifice of mine to test your affection. And now, one word for all," as she kissed Josephine on the forehead. "Catholic , or not there are good and bad of all kinds you stay here, same as ever. Only don't try to convert .me; and never bring any of your idols into the- house." - "You shall be my only idol." Si-Mrs.. Si-Mrs.. Clarkson never became a Catholic, Cath-olic, though she lost her old-time prejudice, and evert was known to declare de-clare that Father Kelly was not oIy one of the most charming talkers she had ever met, but one of the deepest thinkerF. -- ... A little while before her death she even gave her consent to Josephine's marriage with a Catholic, a bright civil engineer with the plebian name of Fagan. |