Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1880-02-10
DR.. MOTIONS MOTHER.

The clock on the mantel had Just
chimed one short, musical stroke.
Through the half.cloSed blinds shone the
slvery light Of the fas,-waning moon
the candle had burned low in It's socket
the log of wood had converted itself To
ashes; but of all this, Doctor Bernard
Motion saw or heard nothing, as he sat
in his Office chair, los, in thought. II the
moon had hidden the world good night,
If the candies feeble existence had en-
,irely ceased, and even the red glow Of
the ashes in the CRATE had died away, he
would still have seen only the picture OF
the woman's face whom he loved.
IL was with him now as Il had been
with him for hours past, since the mo-
ment he had placed his fate in Violet
Fane's keeping, and she had accepted II.
No wonder that II all seemed new TO him
-tha, he was needless OF time and space.
She was such delicate, hish-bo lady,
and he-ah, another vision came before
him now. Not the cheerful office, with
It's luxurious appointments-he might a,
least offer Violet home worthy OF her.
but the memory Of the days when he had
run, little, barefooted lad, about his
mothers cottage, and the toiling for her
only child had earned one by one the
dollars which had sent him first 20 the
village school, and then to the great city,
70 learn the profession for which he
longed.
He had succeeded well and bravely.
beyond MS most ambitious hopes; but
the mother who had toiled for him, where
was she; Why was il that tonight her
old. .wrinkled face drove even Violet Fame 5
beauty from him:
True, he had no longer allowed her TO
work, true, she sat at her ease in her
little cottage. thinking of, and praying
for, her boy, who was so good and gen.
erous to her, but was il his fault that his
patients were 50 many, and his hours Sc
precious, that he could find no time to
gladden. her old heart by glimpse of him
now and then.
And now-now that he thought of Vi
clet as his wife-Violet, with her high
bred ways-Niolet, whose every associa-
ton was in such widely different sphere
could il be that he was ashamed Of hi.
mother:
The candle died out entirely; the
wood was white ashes now; the moor
had sunk to rest, the clock chimed two
but 4 red-hot flush burned on Doctor
Molton's cheek, as be rose to find his way
up to his room and bed, and perhaps for
getfulness in sleep.
For three long hours he sought the
boon in vain, and when at last it came tC
him, and his tired eyes closed, how could
be but dream Of those other eyes Just
awakening in the far-off home, which
somehow tonight had so persistently
haunted his thoughts:
In the little cottage all was hustle, fol
Mrs. Motion had determined to give hei
boy surprise, and the train for Londor
started very early.
London! Ii lay ten long hours away
II would be almost nightiall when sh,
arrived. How glad Bernard would be Il
see her, He had never proposed heI
coming, because he had thought sh'
would not find the courage; as though To-
his sake she would not do or dare any
thing.
She was sorry now she had no; had th'
village dressmaker make up the black
silk he had sent her, but II looked 81
grand in its lustrous folds that it seemed
pity to touch it with scissors, and sh,
would seem more natural like to BernarC
in her stuff dress.
How often had sue pictured him in hi.
lonely home. She hoped he might b'
out when she arrived, that she might tak'
off her bonnet, and, slipping on her white
cap, let him find her, with her knitting
in hand, quietly seated by the treside
waiting his return.
All the way in the train, when at las
she had got started on her journey, sh'
could hardly keep her happy thoughts Il
herself; and more than one glanced a
the smiling old face. with something
tugging at their heartstrings which almos
. b~sruhe raosstur,s infx, their pvts