The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1877-05-16
THE SINS OF THE FATHERS,
A story Ina Three Chapters.

A broad archway, the gloom of It's
Chill murky shadow only deepened by
the flicker of the shattered gas lamp that
hang from the centre, its silence only
broken by the agonized weeping of Il poor
girl who strives to still the throbbing of
her temples by pressing them against the
clammy stones whilst, little as one
would imagine it, but few PAGES separ-
ate her from the crowd and glare of the
wide streets,-such scene is but too
common after nightfall in the heart of a
great English manufacturing town. As
such it did not at first produce a very
startling effect upon Leonard Vincent,
who, as he was hurrying home by short
cuts from a social gathering of fellow stu
dents, was stopped at the mouth of the
archwav by the sounds of distress that
fell upon his ear F.; but his interest was
more wildly awakened as he caught
glimpe of the uptqrned face family il
lumined by the light which just then a
gust of wind blew into flame. The
dark, flashing eyes, the long, black hair
all unkempt and streaming over the girls
shoulders, the face, lovely in its outlines,
now weird with its look of agony and
CHASTITY pale, made picture such as he
moment as immovable as though he had
been gazing upon the head of MedusA.
1t was but moment, however, that he
remained irresolute. Stepping quietly
up to the sobhing girl, who was too much
absorbed in her own grief to notice his
presence, Vincent touched her lightly on
the shoulder. She instantly turned round
to meet his gaze, suppressing with sud
den and violent effort any trace of her
emotion save the great tears, which she
could not at once check in their course
down her cheeks. The cheeks were pale
and somewhat sun ken, as if hunger as
we'll as grief had begun to mar her beau
tv, and, as she looked at the young mans
face with proud, impatient gaze, her
tightly compressed lips trembling despite
her efforts, she aroused in him feeling
of the profoundest compassion.
For some minutes they stood regarding.
each other in silence; then, as he saw the
girl determined not to speak, Vincent
began to address her, though with diff
dence.
"May l ask the cause of your grief2
Do not think me rude. l ask because
might is my wish to help YOU
The young man, usually somewhat
brusque in his manner of addressing his
interiors in station, was himself surprised
at the tone he was led to adopt. The
position of the girl before him, and the
plain, much worn character of her dress,
showed that she belonged to the lower
class; yet he almost quailed before her
look, and felt unconsciOusly that in ma
ture she was not beneath him.
The object of his compassion stood for
moment as if undecided then, the
proud expression on her face unaltered,
replied briefly and in low, quick voice !:
g | wish to be alone. You are very
kind / do not need help"
Leonard Vincent smiled in spite of
his pity.
"You must allow me to doubt that, F"
he said. Will you not trust me? 1t
is not from mere curiosity that ask your
confidence. I feel sure | can help you,
if you will let me.
Again she replied quickly, but the tone
was not that of her former speech:
g You are very kind. 1t is long since
I haEe been spoken to kindly. But L
need no help, indeed need nome"
The young man again smiled as he
/ looked in her still unmoved face.
I" You are very proud" he said. cit
/ is long since | met any one so proud.
am proud, too. VIII you not confde in
a kindred spiritl'
1t was now her turn to smile, and for
a moment her countenance frightened
with look that was like the faint mem
DRY of happiness long past. 1t was
enough that there was sign of relent
1 ing. Vincent continued TO urge her,
and, after few moments of hesitation,
she seemed about to comply with his re
! quest.
Why should 1 trouble you with s
miserable story! You know It all be
fcre ! begin. And yet, perhaps, you
good parents /; | will tell you in few
words. 1t will make me cry again thai
| is good for any pride"
Then she told briefly and plainly the
story of her young days of happy
childhood in little market town in the
south of England, of school days, and
the joys of loving companions. All was
happy till her father, who had been a
small farmer, died, and her mother, 8
beautiful woman, yielded to their rich
landlords entreaties, and married him.
She had acted on an impulse of pride
and her punishment was severe. Laurs
Linden, her only child, was hated by hel
step father, chiefly because she would moi
give up her oldrustic friends. The man
whose nature Yves coarse and vulgar
abused the poor girl dfeadfuiiy, ti1f al
length her life became intolerable to her
g What could I do? / could not Kill
myself for my poor mothers sake so
resolved to leave him. / came north
accompanied BY e girl of my own age
who had always been my best friend. Fol