The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1871-12-22
How CHASTITY he looked as he came

How CHASTITY he looked as he came
out.
4" Is il true, Laura is gone p he asked.
Yes" sobbed, wretched girl, she
is gone"
A pretty mess she's made of it,"
he answ, red, "there's no stopping it, is
there ?"
"No, it's too late, ! suppose. Oh!
that should have lived to see this day.
Are you sick, Charles ?"
Nothing more than usual" he said,
"a sort of sinking"
"You must give up late hours" |
cred, with new anxiety. "The doctor
SAID so long ago."
| " Bother the doctor All need is a
stiffener this morning." and he went to
the sideboard end poured out glass of
brandy and drank it like water.
=" There, now Pm all right"
" All wrong, you mean! Oh, Charles,
it looks sad for young man to need
that before breakfast; if thought you
were going to be a drunkard I'd rather
see you dead before me- You don't
know the agony" My heart was so
full that | could speak no more, but
ended with fresh burst of tears.
Charles did not seem softened at my
tears-he looked angry instead. "What
the mischief is the storm about p he
said, You're put out about Laura,
who's made a COMPOUNDED fool of her.
self, and you visit it on me. Don't get
in the doleful dumps over nothing,
mother-I'm not sliding down a creased
plank to perdition just yet"
The door opened, and our family doc
tor walked in. He was an old friend,
and so there was little ceremony with
him. Charles was polite, and answered
questions and submitted to an examina-
ton with better grace than / expected.
{" It's mothers fancy" he said, laugh
ing, but think there's something not
quite right with my heart it kicks up
oddly, and sometimes makes such a
spring | think its going to bolt alto.
gether" | watched the doctors face
throughout-with agony-but | could
not read it. followed him out. | had
almost forgotten Laura in this new anx
iety.
"Well?" l gasped, as we stood quite
alone in the hall.
"You must prepare for some serious
words, Mrs. Crosswell-"
"The worst-let me know the worst.
"Your boy is killing himself with dis
sipation," he said, solemnly. Scan you
not send him away. / do not say it will
cave him, but there is chance. He has
heart disease, to which late hours and
wine, and all excitement, are as deadly
poison"
sat down in the hall after the door
was shut. and moaned as one in the older
time. off am bereaved of my child
rem, am bereaved." What srief seemed
like my grief-what value had anything
earthly-any of the baubles for which
had toiled. How | would hate them al
when Charles was gone. Yes! already
| saw myself alone in the house, and my
children were not.
God ! how the house feels y
The door burst open with a jar.
knew that impetuous step, and shrank
back little. saw Mr.. Crosswell's face
scarlet with passion.
Well, madam" he cried, 8" hope
you re satisfied with your work"
"My work ?' | faltered.
Yes-yours-yours! Who so anxious
to get into society-to have fine house
like the nobs-to send Laura into the
heartless, goddess set, whose only thought
is fashion, and outshining their neigh
bors, like so many vipers, each trying tc
get their head above the others. Did
approve of tor care for it-say?'
There was little truth in what he
said-quite enough to give it sting
But Oh how cruel to give me this new
pang, and at such time. | had done
all for the best, according to my poor
benighted vision. Could | see the enc
from the beginning-or know how false
things were.
"Why are you not satisfied ?" he said
still stormily. Young Wynkoop is a
least fashionable. He wears such stylish
mits and taultLeSS gloves. What more
can you want ?--Oh damnation u anc
he seemed quite choked with his owr
passion.
ooh, my husband - | cried, Selling
his hands, do not accuse me now
am crushed already. Do you know
what the doctor says of Charles p AnC
the agony seemed too much for me.
had never tainted before; but all thes,
troubles seemed to come over me like
black cloud--a hand of iron grasped M
heart. The pulse stopped. All thi
was death-welcome death. Anywher,
-anywhere-out of this miserabl,
world.
No it was not death The worlC
dawned on me again.
Heavy crimson curtains hung befor,
the windows and shut out the cold wind
A cheerful fire of anthracite burned il
the low grate-a heap of live coal
against the polished steel-and the GLOW
permeated the room with its cushioned
crimson seats and lounges-its vases o
sculptured alabaster-its copies of an
tique sculpture and bronzes-its ole
majolica and treasures of Sevres ant
and Dresden. A refined air that spok,
of cultivated tastes was over all. AS
sat by the fire, with book in my hanc
the great mirror reflected me-a tall
elegant-looking woman, with rattle
cold, steel-blue eyes and blue black hal
"a somewhat square jaw and a hard
set expression. was not reading, bu
thinking in troubled way. The fire