The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1915-01-02

"ObII1l WIZ hbu Il1CU W III E5OLs
An hour passed. The def white fin
gers worked on. A strange silence
filled the little room. 1t was such a
silence as easily admits any strong,
mysterious influence.
How long was it since that Christ
mas when a mother had sat in a blue
and gold chamber with dead boys
head against her breast? Did it mat
ter how long-eXcept that from that
day the mother had put away her
heart? IT was buried in a little coffin,
wilfully buried with her baby son.
Harry =. he had been so
like her: fair and blue-eyed-and wild,
too: how wild for fun and excitement!
How winsome! He had had no trait
Of character in common with his IA
Their, no single feature Of resemblance
to that brute whom she, blind, had
married. Well, they were both dead
now, buried together far away in
the north. And she was nearer Lon
don than them.
What was that voice in the wind,
that odd something that sounded SO
persistently in her ears? Was it only
imagination, or were there really
strains? She shivered a little, the
room was getting cold.
Nearer London! Nearer him than
Harry-him, the dark, heavy-faced
image of his father!
Again that sound of music! But it
was not real-it was all fancy: she
was growing nervous, nervous and
lonely-that was it.
What made her think of that other
boy now, that second son, who had
made shipwreck of his life? Had not
he and she mutually disclaimed one
another, she choosing her own path
and leaving him to find his? To his
wild sowing, as much as to his IA
theirs could be attributed the ruin
that had come upon their fair home
He had done his best to beggar her;
seven years ago ne might have said
he had succeeded. If she had been a
woman of no strength of will, probably
she would have gone under" as com
pletely as he appeared to have done.
But what made her remember? He
had been more than pretty enough
as a baby to please a mother-a
charming dark-headed little fellow-if
she could have learned to care then,
after Harry died. She had steeled
herself against hirn-he was so like
his father.
1
The needles stopped at the end of q
row. The worker took two measure
ments, and then: II ought to finish
in an hour" she said. "That will
mean two pounds this week. I shall
not use a penny of it-what a joy il
is to have handbook! Rome, Flor
ence-yes, shall see you again, but
not on the strength of another's gold
Unaided and unfettered will / come
to YOU
She turned her knitting quickly, and
no less quickly her thoughts went
back to her spendthrift son.
! He went, and / said, Let him go!
He must 'dree his own weird He
alone is responsible for his actions"
Friendless-he might be-and starv
ing-London was cruel city
The woman pulled herself together
sharply.
81 am full Of stupid fancies. 7 care
for nobody, no, not I, and nobody
cares for me- If he is lonely, so an
/. What is that wild wind saying
or is it the wind at all? If ghost!
really come back on Christmas Eve
to haunt people, should say mine
were here now
A strange inertia was stealing ovel
her frame, but the nimble fingers die
not desist. Once upon a time she
had passionately loved music, but sht
could rarely satisfy her desire for i
. nowadays. Her piano had been sole
to help to pay debts; only the mos
necessary articles of furniture hat
been brought to Windyburn. This
evening, in an unaccountable way
music seemed to play upon her spirit
1t was neither wholly in the wine
nor in her brain. 1t fluctuated be
tween the two, a mystic, plaintive
wordless thing. At one moment 1
was objective, and she would try tt
trace its faint notes and their mean
ings, from afar; at another, gliding
among her thoughts and ripplint
through her 1ongings, it seemed Il
sing it's intrusive way into her yer.
soul. Such an intimate, pleading, ever
| DiteOus thiug-iid ii seek TO raacI
the heart that she had put away?
Harry, Harry" she whispered; blu
the cruel wind only echoed, Jimmy
jimmy
The wordless melody went on ant
on, with passages of airs she useC
/ to know. Where had she heard them
That, now? --ah, she remembers
that: it was in Florence, on the wed
ding-trip. In spirit she stood on /;
balcony again, while the lovely moon
light flooded everything with silver
From the street below a soft, swee
strain was floating upwards, and, al
she fingered, listening, an old Major
General came out and Joined her, witt
the words: ''Ah, my dear lady, :
woman's loving voice has power to d.
anything in this world"
! All the bitterness of years of dis
illusionment had not, then, blotted on
that simple scene, or hushed tina
melody, or silenced those words.
But the music had changed, ant
now it seemed a fragment Of LITTLE