The Council Bluffs nonpareil. [volume] (Council Bluffs [Iowa]) 1857-1867, 1859-11-12
THE Fathers FORGIVENESS.


little New England village of Ashdale. II
was pretty place in summer, lying between
two hills, on whose summit the ash trees
lifted their green arms to the sky, all the
long, bright days, as if emploring bene-
diction, or spread out lovingly over the
white houses nestled round the one church
in the vale below.
But to- night it wore different aspect. A
storm was upon the hills. A little snow
and hail was borne upon its wings, hrs not
much. Chiefly it was the force Of rushing
winds; shaking the lealless ash trees, hurting
against closed windows; swinging the bell
in the old church tower, till it gave fort
now and then dirge-like peal, as if the
dead were tolling their own requiems.
Many homes there were, where the wild
scene without seemed but to heighten by
the force of contrast, the blessed calm within
homes where smiling infants slept warm
and still, through the twilight, in the soft
hush Of mother bosoms, and happy children
gathered round the knee of some father or
grandsre, to hear again some simple story
or thoughtful ones looked into the fire, and
fashioned from the embers brave castles, in
which they were to dwell in the coming
and hope. Twenty years from now they
will look again into the embers, and see
these fair castles, in which they had never
come to abide, with ruined windows and
blackened walls
s'The twilight memory over all,
And the silence OF death within.'
But in one house no stories were told to
gladly listening ears-no soft evening HYMN
hushed slumbering babes to rest-no chill
dren's eager eyes looked into the embers.
1t was the stateliest home, by far, in the
little village-a lofty mansion, cleaning
white through the trees, with the root sup
ported by massive pillars. Nowhere did
the evening fire burn brighter, but into j,
looked only two old people, worn and sor-
rowful, with the shadows of grief and time
upon their shrivellcd faces-two who had
forgotten, long ago, that their youths fair
castles. who looked back over wasted fields
Of memo ary, where not even setting sun rays
glided their monuments built to their dead
hopes.
They sat there silently. They had sat
silently ever since the darkness gathered.
The lofty, well-furnished room was lighted
only by the wood. fires & low, and in the
corners strange shadows seemed to gather,
with .beckoning hands and white brow-
cleaning spectrally through the darkness.
Toward them, now and then, the wife looked
with anxious gaze; then turned back again
toward the fire, and clasped her hands over
the heart that had learned through many
trials the hard lesson of patience.
Judge Howard was a stern, self contained
man. In his native town where he had
passed all his life, none stood higher in
public esteem. Toward the poor he was
liberal-toward his neighbors, just and
friendly: vet. for all that. he was n man,
whose will was iron, whose habits were
granite. His wife had come to know this,
even in her honeymoon. The knowledge
was endorsed by her sad, waiting face, and
her restrained manners.
His daughter Caroline, his only child, had
learned it early. and her father became to
her almost as much an object Of fear as of
tenderness.
And vet he loved those two with strergh
weaker, more yielding natures could not
have fnthomed. When his child was first
put into his arms, when her frail, helpless
hands CROPPED blindly at his own, he felt
the strong thrill of fatherly love sweep over
irradiated his face, flooded his heart, but it
did not permanently change or soften his
heart. As she grew to womanhood, and
her bright head glancing in her path was
the fairest sight earth ever beheld, her sing
ing voice the sweetest music, he never
gratiied her whims, nor always yield to her
reasonable wishes.
At length love came to her. She gave
her heart to one whose father Judge Howard
had hated. James lIuntly and he had been
young together, and n feud had arisen be-
tween them, which Rufus Howard's stern
nature allowed him to neither forget or
forgive. He had yet to learn the lesson,
holer than philosophy, loftier than all the
teaching of seers and sagcs, the lesson our
Saviuor lived and wrought, aye, and died, to
teach of forgiveness, even of our enemies
prayer for those who have despltefully used
and prosecuted us. His former enemy was
dead now. but not so with the Judges hate.
1t had been transmitted, like real estate, to
the dead mans heir, and so he forbade his
daughter to marry him, and sternly bade
her to choose between parents and lover.
She inherited her fathers strong will, and
she put her hand in Richard Huntly's and
went forth-she would not have been her
fathers child, If she had not.
From that time, for ten years, her name
had been forbidden word. Letters she
had written at first, during her banishment,
but thew had been sent back unopened, and
for years no voice or token had come to tell
whether she was dead or living. Therefore
the mother looked shudderinsly into the
shadow haunted corners in the long twi-
lights, and almost believed that she saw
there the face for which her mothers heart
yearned, momently, all those long years.
Judge Howard loved his wife too-oh, if
she had but known it Every outline Of
that sad, waiting face every thread OF that
silver hair, was dearer to him, now, than
when bridal roses crowned the girl bride he
had chosen, but his lips never soothed away
the sadness of that patient, loving face.
"It is a terrible night he said at length,
rousing himself from his long silence. In
the pause after his words you could hear
how the wind shook the house, groaned
among the trees, and sighed along the gar.
den walk.
"Yes, a terrible night" his wife answer
ed, with shudder. "God grant no poor
soul may be out in it shelterless."
"Amen would take in my worst enemy
on such a night as this"
His worst enemy; but would be have
taken in his own child; the daughter with
his blood in her veins, fed once at his
board, warmed at his hearth? If this ques-
tion crossed his wife's mind, she gave it no
utterance.
"Shall light the candles, Rufus ?" said
asked meekly.
eyes, it is almost bedtime. l had for
gotten how long We were sitting in the dark
will read now, and then We shall better be
in bed."N
He drew towards him the Bible, which
lay between the candles she had lighted-it
had been his habit for years to read chap
ter in it nightly. Somehow tonight the
pages open at the beautiful ever new story
Of the prodigal son. Judge Howard read
it through calmly, but his hand trembled as
be shut the Book.
Hannah" he began, and then paused,
as if his pride were still too strong to permit
him to confess himself in the wrong. But
soon be proceeded. 4" Hannah, | do suppose
Ia IN