The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 12, 1905, Page 5

MY IDEA THRE SVNDAY CALLS OF TiiE CONCLUDr ING CHAPTER OF BENIAMIN DISRAELIS ONFINISHED NOVEL BY CORA CRESSEY CROW This is the winning conclusion to the unfinished Disraeli novel publish- ed Call, February 12 It is written by Cora Cressy in the Sunday and 19 Crow, who. it will be remembered, was the winner of the first prize story of this scries. The problem was a dif- ficult one, but this story, in literary finish, strength and plaasibility, was judged by the editors as best fulfilling the somewhat difficult conditions pre- sented n of the Coun- immediately be- Kusi- the principles 1ta philosophy to a ost exclusive set. And if such words as “yoga" and “Nir- as they w gl y from lip to seemed the least profaned thereby to the ut Buddhist ear, he con- soled himself by the conviction, buried deep in his soul, that his religion alone would revolutionize a world in sad need d In spite of the lack of many of his listeners ent words did not fall together on barren soil. Gaston Ber- tram had long revolted at the regular order of things. He desired to mitigate coterie s al- the evils of the world—evils which shocked his ar ic nature, but his dreamy idealism lacked force and ex- pressed fitself y in a supercilious pessim Solely at the request of the enthusiastic Countess Bertram he attended her salon. Once there his at- n was immediately arrested and held by the novelty of Kusinara's thought, not less than by his forceful er of expressing himself. Gas- s lack of political ambition and the ssof his life left a void which 1| temperament now filled h the teachings of the Oriental phi- yphy in which he steeped himself. or to him alone did the exhortations of the scholarly Indian appeal. Lady Ermyntrude had been denied the needed companionship of & nature that would act as a sort of balance wheel to her erratic impulsiveness. Keenly gifted In the art of penetrating char- scter, the shams which she encountered in the social world into which she was now fully launched only served to ac- centuate the scornful expression of her face, which, seen before but occasion- elly, had now become habitual. The novelty of being sought by various suit- ors soon wore off and to her high-strung nature, so starved for the wholesome things of life, & mother's love and thought and care, the mystic words of Kusinara came as a sort of balm, for in him she felt the sincerity of his convictions. It served, too, as a bond which drew her closely toward Gaston, whose magnetic personality and charm of manner were revived by his intent- ness on mastering the doctrines pro- mulgated by the Buddhist. “Ermyntrude,” he said one evening after Countess Bertram’s guests had taken leave, “do you come to these lec- tures like the fashionable sheep, who follow the route of the leader?” “Indeed I do not, Gaston,” she re- plied, stunned by his remark. “You might cry baa, baa, till doomsday and I shouldn’t follow In your lead, unless my convictions took me there. I listen to Kusinara because he carries me away from myself and from the sham in which we live. I hate it,”” she added with a sudden vehemence. Gaston looked at her with the com- pre sion of a ready sympathy. ve me, dear Ermyntrude,” he impulsively catching her hand. affectionate ring in his voice went bugh to her heart. “For eried The high social position of Countess Bertram, her known inriuence in the of fashion, togetner with her nature, with its certain intensity, and no legitimate on which to vent itself, her world superficial form of object daughter having been consigned to other hands, made her a desirable ob- ject by which the Unknown might carry out his theories for mankind. His unmistakable breeding and the'alr of mystery with which he still continued to envelop himself gave him an added charm in the eyes of the Countess, who scarcely realized that she and Kusi- para, in different ways, were the in- struments of sowing the seeds of a doctrine of extermination of the hu- man race—seeds destined to take deep root in virgin soll and bring forth a harvest of sorrow. She only knew she was now the center of adulation. Chatterly wrote long reviews of the Buddhist and his lectures in which he spoke of a “new priestess of a divine philosophy who had brought light into darkness.” Congratulations poured in upon her. The sudden appearance of the strange Unknown and his equally mysterious disappearance gave to it an added zest. Mr. Hartmann, too, attended the salon. His daughter An- gela accompanied him but a few times. To her the atmosphere reeked with a certain unwholesomeness which she could not explain but felt keenly. The deep reverence in which she held her father and her respect for his intel- lectual attainments, coupled with his philosophy of life, were stumbling blocks to her peace of mind. It even became a rellef to spena the day with the Falconets, whose religious creed, if narrowed overmuch, was at least restful and she returned home girded with a spiritual strength to pray that her father might yet renounce a phil- osophy the pessimism of which-seemed, to her mind, to fit ill with his cheerful habits of life. Joseph Falconet, . in the meantime, had obtained his seat in Parliament and was full of zeal to use the power committed to him for the amelioration of mankind and the maintenance of the creed of the God of his fathers. A strained feeling existed petween him- self and the Countess Bertram—for his firmly balanced mentality could not condone the vagaries of a mind which could let itself be swayed from the creed of the orthodox church, to the conservation of which he had secretly dedicated his life. He looked with a conet’s mind and made him realize the THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. certain &lstram he trequency of Angela’s visits mll sisters, being aware of the doctrines her father in- culcated, But thess misgivings were unexpectedly dismissed. Tired with the earnestness with which he had pleaded is cause that day in the House he had walked home to rest his mind in bodily exercise. His free swinging stride soon left the town behind him and as he came to the outer edge of the suburb, every spot of which was associated with the various Incidents of childhood, his steps unconsciously slackened their pace and the busy thoughts which were thronging his brain gradually gave way to a certain peace, engendered by the time and place. He passed his hand across his brow involuntarily and the motion seemed to banish his habitually stern expression. As he passed the burying ground he glanced over it, and for an instant a grave smile crossed his face. He recalled the terrors it had had for him as a boy. As he looked he dis- cerned a slight figure emerging from the trees which overshadowed it. Sur- prised that any one should be there at that hour he paused, hardly knowing he did so. As the figure approached the outer gate he barely repressed an spression of surprise. iiss Hartmann—you! And at this hou Recovering from the momentary em- barr ment which his unexpected presence caused her, she replied: “Yes, Mr. alconet. You are sur- prised I know to find me alone and here at this hour. But there are cer- tain moods which will not admit of the presence of another person. At such times I find The City of the Dead alone gives the needed peas A year ago such sentiments from a young girl would have shocked the con- servative instincts of Joseph Falconet. But months of brushing up against a world of broad minded men had had a wholesome influence upon the austere young man, brought up in a somewhat narrow religious groove. Sgrangely enough, too, the girl’s pale face ap- pealed to the tenderness hidden deep dotvn in his being. The rich voice was full of feeling as he turned toward her. “Am I to understand that your mood is not to be disturbed by me? Or, may I walk home with you?”" . “The mood is gone, and to be frank I did feel just a bit ‘creepy’ as I came out through the church yard, so shall be glad of your company. Absorbed in meditation, I remained longer than I intended and fear my father may be anxlous.” The mention of Mr. Harfmann's name cast a sudden gloom over Fal- entirely different religious grounds upon which he and his companion stood. As he looked at the serene countenance at his side, on which there seemed the afterglow of a reli- glous exaltation, he resolved to learn, if possible, what her religious convic- tions were. Yet, in a measure, he dreaded hearing them. But the very strength of his nature demanded the truth, without counting the cost of personal distress. He asked some- what abruptly: ‘‘Miss Hartmann, do you attend Lady Bertram’s salon, where that Indian Kusinara is heaping up untold misery for "those who imbibe his precepts?” A sudden shock went through her at his unexpected question. She gath- ered herself together quickly and re- plied with her usual calmness: “I have been there three or four times, but I do not like the atmosphere —to me it seems fraught with an in- tensity which is dangerous. Yet,” turning her large serious eyes toward him, “I believe you misjudge the Budd- hist. He is a scholarly man and speaks with a convincing earnestness which can result only from the sincer- ity of his belief and too easlly carries conviction to hearts not held in safe keeping by our own faith.” “Then you are a stanch supporter of the Church of England?” he asked, surprised. “I am a firm bellever in the divinity of our Bible.” He felt the velled rebuke contained in her answer, but, contrary to his usual custom, was in no way provoked to an argument of justification. He felt which speaks to us as we open our only relief that this nature had not been contaminated by what he con- sidered the blasphemous doctrines which had been floating about in her home atmosphere. “I could not fail,” she continued, “to be impressed with the beauty of some of the beliefs which the Buddhist ex- pounded. Unquestionably all religions must have as a groundwork certain beautiful truths, else would they never strike the human heart. But why,” she clasped her hands and turned toward him impulsively—*“Oh! why—do people find it necessary to turn from the God whose. goodness guided the children of Israel through the wilder- ness with a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night to worship at strange altars?"” Infected by her enthusiasm he sald: “The divine influence is with us as much to-day as it was then. We have only to listen ta the ‘still small voice’ “ MR, RARTMANN WAS STRETCHED QN . THE FLOOR . UNCONSCIOUS: souls to the inflow of the infinite. You have perhaps heard people praise my eloquence—if my words are fraught with power it is only because I pray daily that my life shall be the means of bringing both temporal and spiritual relief to the poor and afflicted. We see ourselves menaced on every side by avarice, cruelty and greed. The op- pression of the poor must cease and their condition be somewhat amelior- ated ere we can hope to touch the soul buried deep under stress of poverty and bitterness of heart.” It was with a shock that he realized they had reached her father’s house. When he bade her good-night his fingers pressed hers for a moment, and as he stréde on alone in the direction of home he suddenly felt the night lacked something. Lord Bertram passed into his wife's boudoir. A frown was noticeable on his usually impassive face. ‘“Claribel.” His voice came with a certain dis- sonance to the ears of Lady Bertram, who was looking picturesque in a dainty negligee of silk and lace as she _sat by the open fire in a sort of day dream in which, through half-closed eyes, she pictured a millennium which should consist of souls, otherwise lost, arriving at this state of ecstacy through her instrumentality. Her hus- band's voice aroused her and she turned her eyes: toward him. “Claribel,” he continued, “I have al- ways given you the privilege of living your life according to your inclinations. Have I ever thwarted you in any reas- onable wish?’ Hearing no reply, he continued, “you know I have not. Yet I tell you I am not pleased with your present course. If you choose to dabble in Orfental philosophy and have picturesque priests about the place, I do not mind. But to have our home the center of a cult which believes the wretchedness of mankind can be miti- gated only by the extermination of the —mee b W race is| carrying matters beyond the point of reason. I do not object to the Buddhist who seems a harmless vision- ary except that he is unconsciously the instrument of Hartmann and his mys- terious friend, who have drunk too deeply of a materialistic philosophy which would shake the moral pillars of our country. Let them grovel in their pessimism, but leave younger unformed minds to a more wholesome influence. As I passed the library Ermyntrude and Gaston sat as if entranced before a volume of —— can you guess what?” Lady Bertram shook her head, smiling inscrutably. “They were reading ‘Schopenhauer on Suicide’ and when I expressed dis- approval that any young girl should read his philosophy both immediately became indignant. Is this,” I asked, “the literature the Buadhist recom- mends to young minds?"” *“Oh, no,” they replied in a breath, “but Mr. Hartmann and his friend”— here they paused as if betraying a secret. “I tell you, Clarrbel, trouble will come out of all this. I don’t like Ermyntrude’s fanatical talk and Gas- ton is ever to be reckoned on as-an uncertain quantity. I demand that from this hour a stop be put to all this nonsense. It is distasteful to me, as you know, to have to speak in this way."” . He turned and left the room. Bertram immediately went to the library. Opening the door she ex-. by claimed: ‘“We are undone. Lord Bertram for- bids Kusinara the house and we shall no longer be permitted to enlighten and influence mankind.” ° 3 AL “Are you sure his decision is final?" Gaston asked. “Unquestionably,” came in Lady Bertram'’s intense tones. She was too absorbed in contemplating the rather enviable light in which her persecu- tions would place her with the coterie which had frequented her house to no- tice the,‘l{rn‘}:unt glances exchanged e and - Gaston—glances which needed no words to record an unspoken vow. - Their faces expressed too plainly a sort of fanatic ecstacy. Angela Hartmann had been dining thA WEEK PRIZE STORY with the Falconets and it was now no longer a source of surprise to the fam- fly that Joseph should walk home with her. Matters were certainly pointing in one direction, and while Mr. Hart- mann’s philosophy shocked Mrs. Fal- conet, yet it was evident that Angela had not been tainted by it, although it doubtless accounted for her not having that vital interest in distribut- ing tracts which Mrs. Falconet viewed with much complacency in her own daughters. AJ‘!-‘YOIQDII Falconet and Angela went out Into the starlight nignt a sudden silence fell on them. Yet there are silences more eloquent than words, when soul speaks to soul and thé sur- rounding atmosphere is Iimpregnated with a harmony so beautiful one seems to.catch the very music of the spheres. Angela was not surprised on reaching her tather’'s grounds to feel Joseph gently push her into a garden chasr and then seat himself beside her. As he took her hand it trembled in his firm clasp. “Angela, dear,” he sald In the tones now grown very dear to her, “I cannot. weit longer to tell you of my love. Mine has been, as you know, a serious life. I have given little thought to anything gave grave subjects and the more I see of life and its attendant miseries the more deeply I realize no contemt can come to me save ministerinx to hm- manity as best I can. Even at this precious hour I never saw more plainly where my pathway leads and, lke Merlin, I must follow the gleam. The course leads over rocky ways., but it would possess a wonderful sweetness could it be lightened by such a love as yours. Can you share such a life, dear Angela?" Every portion of her being radiated the joy which she feit and she pressed his hand in a mute caress.* He drew her toward him and again silence en- veloped them—a silence typical of the calm that was henceforth to fill their lves. As they entered the house Angela Jed the way to the library. To their dismay Mr. Hartmann was stretched on the floor unconscious. A letter had dropped from his hand. They read it together. i “To Kusinars, Mr.’ Hartmamm and the Unknown—We thank you for your beautiful philosophy which has taught wus how to escape from oppression and to reach that beatific stats whera the evil of this earth can never touch us. Open wide your protecting arms, Oh! river Thames, for through your mine istration we, this hour, attain Nirvana. Ermytrude and Gaston.” The London News of the next day contained the following announcement: “An- unknown gentleman. whose name we have been absolutely.-unable to trace, was this morning discovered dead In his room by his servant. a mute, who cannot even write, There were no papers by which of jdentification could be -