The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1873-11-30


restless she turns away and leaves the room,
and the pale face OF the young man wears an
expression Of intense relief, and his pen seems |
to pass moro freely over the paper. |
Alas, the relief is but for ave minutes Ella |
re.enters, fills her work-basket with the OBJ |
noxious stockings, and seems as If about to
leave the room again; bot pauses midway and
az have been darning these old stockings
the whole evening, they are not At to be worn
because your poor old mother happens to speak
to you when you are writing. I'm sure it 9
not often interrupts you. Shall show them
to your"
iverily believe, had the person addressed
been . woman, 9 gush Of tears would have
washed the paper upon which she wrote-tenrs
Of pity and love for the poor, fond soul whose
reason was SO obscured, and tears Of vexetion
that she could not bear the cross moro pa
tiently, remembering how matohless the love
of the offender; but in this case there was an
angry exclamation, and the paper over which
the weary brain had been porting so studiously
was pushed impatiently aside, and the young
man started from his scat, exclaiming-
and cannot write in the room with you, If you
will trouble me about every silly thing that
comes into your head"
For one moment Ella looked wrathfully at
the son of her adoption, then she moved sadly
from the table, and the words
Alas, alas Has it come to thisH Have l
SO much has turned from me i" Then she sat
her down, and buried her face in her thin,
| white hands, and Edward heard her sob, and
saw the tears trickle through her fingers
Poor young man he knew not we'll what he
| was about, only that he felt sorry for his past
Impotence at the same time knowing he
should commit it anew, perhaps in less than
| an hour, for of late his supposed mother had
seemed to him to grow very odd, though be
| began to surmise how the matter would end,
and that reason itself was on the wane. Lit
loved and venerated had been his drest enc
| my; shadow seemed anyway thrown across
his path, and it brought with 1t such mon
him UNFIT for the exertion which was necessary
| for their joint support. However her tears
stabbed him to the heart, and going up to her
he said gently as though he were some loving
girl
My dear mother, You must forget my hasty
speech; but you see, If you interrupt me
cannot get on With that long article !a am wri,
and think no more of my hasty words"
ooh, Edward Edward, my boy! Which of
Us is it that is so sadly changed I did not
here" she said, raising her hand to her fore
head scarcely know sometimes what I am
about, and ask myself the question Am 1
"God forbid, mother dear! you must not
harbor such fancies you must 60 out more
than you do. Miss Fits Maurice seems q sweet
Fer SEX and an ola friend Of your OWE, go and
see them often, and invite them here. It will
be best to seek the society of others, and not
DS a asaa to aH
whom come home in the evening--for can
not write and talk at the Same time, and I'M
less write by night, and catalogue Mr.. Ar
buthnot's books by day, where shall We be for
rent and food3" ---.-~-~-~
"very true, my poor boy, very true though
it makes my heart ache to ace you work SO hard
"You are no burden, my best of mothers
but let Us have no moro tears. Come, put OF
| your bonnet /; I cannot write again tonight, Sc
2 <.Hr.
o walk in the cool of the evening"
Ella hastened to pat on her walking garb
aud Edward walked up and down the room
lamentfng the loss of the evenings work
"The night must pay its tribute now" he sale
to himself. when she has gone to bed mus
work, and there will be no Interruption"
{ Have you ever known what 1t is to have
great sorrow lowering over you'll Have 20
ever watched its progress as, slowly but surely
lazy x tRe eH Courage to- face t. Weiy
n your eyes to the painful truth, tacitly ssyin
: to yourself, "When the evil does come it vii
y be time enough to face it." In some such wa
b Edward acted with himself. An appalling fea
had fallen upon him about the time that b
9 was preparing t" leave London, and hence tn
" real cause why he bad taken Ella with him
v Ireland. First, he had noticed her loss
memory, by the various stories she would te
y him of his father, often CONTRADICTORY enong
It then, by a strange abruptness OF manner, an
" the perfectly imbeclle conduct she sometime
" assumed.
a In the midst of his melancholy musings sh
:. re- on tered the room. His countenance ws
,r still sorrowful and anxions. She. poor sou
had forgotten, like some hayward child, h'
past uneasiness.
How good of yon, Ed ward, to take me ont
o walk will do US both so much good" che sal
and drawing her arm within his, they ramblt
u down the quiet street.
1t "Were it not 30 late we would call on Mi
o Fitz Maurice" said Edward; "by the vi
q, were you unmarried, mother, when you fir
~ knew her auntT
?. Eyes, yes; 1 lost sight of her after he d
IL ceived me, and never saw her again till tt
10 other day"
d "' He deceived you.' Ny dearest mot6e
I'd who are you speaking ofp And, for the FIR
time, u wild suspicion, terrible fear glance
q across his mind.
to lido not remember clearly now. but l 20
"a cruelty deceived, that is certain. But why
1t you stare and look odd Have 1 not q
r. ways loved yon as if you were my own son
t: 90 AS If were your own sonp What in Il
at name of all that is holy, do you mean !" Al
Up the countenance of the yonng man grew q
q solutely livid as he spoke.
lie 81 did not say such words as those My ov
OF oh ha I'm min and