Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1847-03-18

together IN lltile Dy-pldCes' dWu lHCll ouNN"'J
lifted them into the air, showering all the grass
that. cold and dark and low, lay close to the
ground. 1t entered the room where Peter De
Roos sat alone with a paper in his hands, but
not reading. 1t threw itself headlong down
the chimney, and there swelIed and rumbled and
heaved great gusly signs. Now it m%uuercd
strange threatnings from the chimney-throat-
now booted at the stars from the chimney-top
Oh it was a wild, wicked wind.
Peer De Roos grew more and more thoughtful.
lie had dropped the paper and rested his head
on his hand. He thought Of his gentle loving
boy, who never thwarled him, who never spoke
or looked unkindIy he thought Of his loneliness
of Minnie's sufferings, and he was almost
selc-accused. Just then the wind howled loudly
in The chimney, and rushing cut, beat the shut
tiers ierceIy to, and then swept away down the
lawn. A loud rap was heard at the door the
old man started, and under The influence Of his
thoughts, and their sudden interruption grew 'e-
ry pale. In ii moment firmer Wright was ush-
cred into the sitting-room by Mr.. Deming and
shaking hands cordially, sat Town opposite his
friend, with his usual look of composure.
A few common-pI place remarks were exchanged,
md farmer Wrilht calmly rested his grey eyes
on the perlurbed face Of his host.
peter" said he.
There was something unusual in the tone OF
his voice that went to The heart of the landlord.
"Peter there is but one journey through life,
and no going back TO reclify mistakes. | have
c0o,, to ,,,r, ,,,, tbo4 ,n, haze r,rIo , rrtCVOuS
mistake, and that there is yet time TO make all
right. | know | am about to NEEDLE with that
which is not my business and you may command
me to leave your house if you choose, | shall
not refuse"
There was no reply, and farmer Wright proceed
ed =
"Peter, did you ever love your boy Didn't
you always love him? Hasn't he been better,
and kinder, and more obedient to you, than COM
mon boys? more so than you felt in your heart
that you deserved And now, because he dared
to think for himself once, you turn him from your
doors Peter, you have done very wrong"
"Whether | have done right or wrongconcern
me alone. | have power over my own house
and property yet, and no son Of mine shall re
main under my roof who chooses TO be disohe
dent. Look here, farmer Wright, | know tina
you don't mean to be impairment or o%fficious, ST
I'll forgive You for what | wouldn't any bod
else. But don't say another word on the sub
lect. That young man is my son no longer
If he chooses to marry the daughter of a wall
) layer, he may but he never will touch one dolla,
of my property. My wife was rich, my mothe
was rich, and | never will consent to his marry
ins any other than a rich wife. There ncvc
was begrar yet in tie De Roos family"
Farmer Wright looked half with contempt OF
the man before him, and then proceeded in hi
usual voice -
"Y0ur wife, Peter! You know just how
much pleasure and comfort her silver brough
YOU You know that she exceeded even your
t self in her love of gain. You know that she
only m1rried you because you were rich like her
5 self-that You never loved each other-never
And you know how she died Would you con
demn your son to the same ioyless existence a
t your own? Would you have him The sam
care-worn, honeymoon old man, sitting alone OF
. such a dismal night, with only such thoughts n
, yours for company %
l And the wind came back through the uppe
sky; roaring and raging among the elms, ant
y the easement cIashed, and the timbers shool
5 through all the house. 1t pealed out louC
: shouts from the roof, and then menacingly muir
muring rolled away.
$ 81 have said that he is my son no longer.
will not take back my word.'
I "Peter-if you have no soul, you have mon
e ey. You know that Waltermire will carry o
e this suit to tine trial. You know, too, very well
it that it can terminate but one way. There WI
5 be no jury found in the country that will not re
!. joice to grant the heaviest damages to the plair
{ tiff Harry is a minor. You will have to pa
5 the amount. Ten thousand dollars would b
d righteous verdict"
The old man groaned.
e of | am drawn on that Jury, you may knov
d what TO expect. We have always been friend,
but that does ret hinder me from speaking th
truth to you. | have been to see Harry he u
tiers no disrespectfnl word concerning you, bu
5 his feelings are unchanged. l have been to Sc
t Andrew Morris's daughter she is in the deeI
e est distress, but she loves Harry as much as bt
fore. She has no hand whatever in this SUIT an
II ~deplores ii from the bottom Of her heart, Ye.
c as little as you have deserved from him, Harr
y will not marry without your consent"
And once more the turbulent wind whirIe
dry sticks and leaves and sand against the viii
dows.
d The old man covered his face, and thoug
he Ionged to ask if it we're indeed true VIII:
his guest told him, he was ashamed Of NANTES
ing any interest in his son.
Peter De Roos-Gom my soul I pity you
Instead of sitting here in this grea! %loneson
s. house, alone and silent as The grave, except Il
wlnd-your sen and daughter-yes, dauglte
might have been with you, making this disln
lie room bright with their presence, and striving
cheer the darkness of lhreescore with the tai,
Of the one aud the songs Of the other. You,
e. heard Minnie Morris sing; as old as | am,
S. does me GOOD TO listen to her. Was there q