The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1897-12-21
MERE SUSANNA.


was little old woman, with gray hair
and small, determined face Her lips
were thin and her eyes bright and deep
set, with penthouse brows
l fingered, wondering little. From
inside the cottage there came the con-
tinual cheep cheep and twitter of birds.
There were cages hung up outside
near the door, and one even on the door
step. The old woman looked straight
across the fiat fields to the sunset. She
had colorless wrap about her head,
and she wore a colorless dress and a
blue apron. The sunset glorifed them
all
thought she did not see me, but as
l went by she called to me, and turned
back. She came down to the little gate
and said, Monsieur is a strangerP'
eyes, madame. .
"And he has travelled perhaps?''
''In many lands y
Has he ever met a tall lad, a SOL
dier, very fair and handsome, with blue
eyes?'
Il have met many soldiers, madame. !"
0AV OAAo OAOA 1n1uhy luOubl6uI,
she urged "You could never have for
gotten him. His hair was like the sky
yonder she pointed to the ruined
/ gold of the sunset-''and his eyes
danced, danced always. He was always
merry
Il am very sorry, madame, 1 do not
remember him.
She seemed little saddened and was
turning away when I said, 'You keep
many singing birds, madame?''
They call me Mere Susanna" she
said. Come in, monsieur, if you will,
and see them. 3"
The cottage was two roomed-one
room where she lived and slept; learn
ed afterward that the other was a
shrine-empty-where she went to
pray when her heart and hope were
numb.
The little kitchen was filled with
birds in cages. She had to put one on
the floor to offer me seat. AS for her
self she sat down on a stool in the
midst Of them. Then she took up the
cage from the floor on to her knee, and,
putting in her hand, captured the song
ster. 1t was a chaffinch. She stroked its
wings and laid it against her face. 1t
did not try to escape, but nestled con-
tentedly against the wrinkled cheek.
= 1t knows you, - / said
She gave a contented little laugh.
"They all do. But won't need them
when he comes home''
'Who is he2''
"He-my boy that told you Of.
Some of them used to say he would
never come back when they thought
didn't hear them. But l know"
The twilight was closing in. A grad
ual hush had crept over the linnets and
finches, the canaries and the rest She
put back the bird into it's cage and rose
too. She did not ask me to 20 again.
went out into the little garden and
the twilight and continued my walk;
but, returning home the same way, l
heard strange sound through the
spring darkness. 1t was Mere Susanna
crouched up by the garden paling, cry
ing to herself
A few days later came across her in
the fields She was plucking dandelion
and herbs for salad and groundsel for
birds. She told me that she went about
selling them to those Of the neighbors
who had no time to come and look for
their own.
The new green was springing up
around us The sky was blue. A spring
wind wandered about and blew apart
the old woman's hair on her forehead
as she worked.
You leave your birds alone all dayG''
l said.
Yes" she answered, "but 1 hear
them singing all the same"
How, then, since your cottage is not
near here?''
How do l known" she said, straight
ening herself. ''It gets palmer and
palmer as l go home in the evenings,
and when l get in at the gate they all
begin together. She stopped down
again, smiling. "It's almost like hav-
ing child waiting for one, 4" she said,
but not to me.
thought of her that evening when,
looking out of my window, saw that |
the sky in the west had turned primrose.
| saw her trudging home with the light |
ON her face and the singing of her birds
III her ears growing nearer and nearer,
till at last she turned in at the little |
gate.
Often after that met her in the fields |
or going her rounds in the village.
Sometimes when saw her talking with |
the neighbors I fancied that the glamour
OF a spring evening had worked spell |
and that after all there was nothing un-
common or evil about her, and then l |
remembered the eyes that had watched |
the sunset and the strange sound heard |
through the spring darkness.
II in the daytime CHANGED to pass
her cottage, which stood alone among |
the sad, cultivated fields, heard her
birds singing and chirping ceaselessly.
Monsieur, she said to me once,
"when l am dead they will stop sing
ing"
She went early to work in the morn
ings, giving them fresh food and water
before starting. Often she went far
afield for herbs. Once met her coming
home slowly and heavily, leaning ON
her stick. Dusk had fallen, and the east
was growing tender for the moonrise.
She asked me in that evening. l no
tioed that she moved about feebly, as
though she were tired out, and at last
she sat down and was silent.
fMere Susanna, I said suddenly,
when is your boy coming baokr How
long has he been away?'
By the movement she made l knew
that she raised her head, for we were in
darkness.
Monsieur, " she said, che may come
any day. Every night say to myself,
Perhaps he will come tomorrow, may
be before / am up, or he will meet me
coming home in the evening"
why does he delay, Mere Susanne?"
Her fingers grew restless and plucked
at her apron. 81 cannot tell, monsieur.
But it is not long since he went-only
a little while ago"
''When did he go, Mere Susanna, and
whyF You have never told me. When
was it?''
1t was during the war, monsieur.
do not know how long ago; have no
memory. but only little while since.
Monsieur will know. He went to fight. "
Then at last l began to understand.
1t was 20 years since her boy had gone.
She would not have known him now.
He was tall lad fair and handsome,
and blue eyed to her still, and she was
waiting for him to come back from a |