The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-05-02
THE PROUD LADY

InE PkUUD LADY
The inevitable changes that marked
the passage of time lifted from Mar
garet Kilburn's willing shoulders re.
sponsibility after responsibility until
scarcely burden was left. The un.
welcome removal of the tasks that
had occupied her days brought un-
wished-for leisure, in which to con-
template the long stretch of loneli-
ness before her-the weeks and
months, the years perhaps, of solitude
that she had to face and live through.
And it was only the prospect of be-
ing at last alone in them that aroused
her to full sense of the altered as
pect of her surroundings, of the as
founding transformation of the neigh
borhood in which she lived-a trans
formation wrought so gradually, but
with such tragic completeness. The
great city, stretching out in it's phe-
nomenal growth, allured its more for
tunate inhabitants to the outskirts for
quiet and breathing space. They were
glad to escape from the crowding
throng of aliens that poured in upon
them, bringing strange customs and
the SAVIOR of other lands in speech and
dress.
When she was a child of three, Mar
garet's father had built the home that
was still hers, selecting that locality,
that particular street, because it
promised to be place where gentle,
friendly people would come to dwell.
For long time it had fulfilled that
promise. 1t became the birthplace of
six other Kilburns, and within it's
sheltering walls parents and chill
dren had known many happy and con-
tented years. From it first the tender,
much loved mother and then the good
father had been borne to their long
rest. One by one the sons and
daughters had gone forth to homes of
their own; and only Margaret, the
eldest, was left.
After her mothers death, which oc-
CURED when the youngest girl was
eight, she had seldessly devoted her
self to the others of the household,
sinking her own interest into theirs
with completeness that left her
doubly lonely when happy marriages
| took them from her. She rejoiced
heartily in their good fortune; but she
experienced, nevertheless, many a
pang of regret that they no longer
needed her care. 1t was almost year
now Size the last one, the baby sister,
became a bride; and that was the
longest year of Margaret's life. Ere
quent and pressing were the invita-
tons to make her home with one or
the other, but she chung to her indie
pendence and to her house of
memories.
The place was dear to her, and al
most unconsciously she assumed the
attitude of defense. SIZE would hold it
from the Entertainments of the invad-
ers who had usurped every other
home in that section and who looked
with desiring eyes at the square white
house, that would make a dwelling
place for SO many of them. They
seemed to resent the neat, small yard
that had once seemed so much larger
because of similar space on either
side of it. Now tall tenement build
ing pressed against it's iron fence on
the left where it was widest, and a
similar structure crowded up on the
right, leaving only a narrow passage.
ca ho1 Ioo
Italian element in the new popula-
ton that it had been deemed advis-
| able to place the parish church in
charge of priests of that nationality.
That seemed to Margaret the last
desolating blow. She was then indeed
| a stranger in a strange land She
made pilgrimages on Sundays to at
tend High Mass at some church where
a sermon was delivered in English;
but every morning, and early Mass
on the Lords day, found her in her
old place at st. Johns.
Her erect figure, her pale, sweet
face, with it's crown of white hair, be-
came very familiar to the dark-eyed
| worshipers. They regarded her shyly
| and with not little awe. She smiled
| at them sometimes with surprising
timidity, but never spoke. 1t was not
dislike that held from neighborliness,
but a nameless dread she could not
conquer. So many of the men were
rough and wild looking, the ways of
the women SO unlike her own! Her
heart went out to the children, who
drew together and regarded her with
round, wondering black eyes when she
passed them at their play. Their lit
tie faces were frequently grimy, and
their dresses often soiled and that
held the fastidious Margaret from
even a furtive caress. There was
something that they said, too-some
name that they called her, not
exactly in derision, but which she felt
to be not entirely complimentary
either. She could never quite catch
the words, and was not at all sure
that she wished to do SO.
The visits Of her brothers and sis
tiers and their children were the bright
spots in her days. The old house was
at it's best when it was crowded, when
bright faces and the sound of young
laughter dispelled the shade Of loneli
ness. Her nephews and nieces were
growing up, and she was quick to no
tice that, while there was no less fer
vor in their welcome when she went
-