Middletown transcript., 1880-03-06

J
He sprang to his feet to seek her,
when the door softly opened, and,
turning, he saw-could it be a dream
conjured up by his restless tancies Of
the night before-his mother! Close
behind was the wholIy-wondering, half
apologeti; face of his butler. 1t took
him a full minute to realize it was no
dream and then (honor to his man
hood) a sudden, overwhelming tender
ness swept away all else, and with a
glad cry Of Mother" he clasped her
to his heart.
When she had grown calmer and
more at rest, beginning to look around
and wonder and admire, little feel
ing Of irritation began to grow at his
heart. Why had she come? Had he
not made all comfortable for her st
home? Here she would be constrain-
ed, unnatural. And Violet. He could
picture the astonished look which
would creep into her eyes when he
said to her, This is my mother = nay,
more, the naughty curve which would
gather about her mouth, so rich and
ripe, and sweet. So the question at
his heart found words, aud he scarce
ly knew himself the Innate irritation
they betrayed.
Mother, why did you not let me
know you were coming ?"
II meant to surprise you, my boy, "
she answered fondly. Can it be that
| have done wrong ?"
No, no, he hastily replied. Come,
you must eat and 60 to bed. You
need rest"
But long after ne had hidden her
good night he sat and thought.
His mother had come to make her
home with him. This was clear If
he told her he willed it otherwise she
would obey him.
For a time he planned it outflow
he would tell her the city life was not
adapted to her needs and then Vio-
let need never know IF the plain, hum
BILE little woman-who had not shamed
to toll with her own hands that his
might be the hands of a gentleman.
Oh, shame on him Could he ever
wash them clean, even of the thought ?
No, Violet should know the truth
He could bear the scorn now in her
eyes and in her voice, as she would
question him how dare he look up to
her, but his mother should share his
home and heart to the end.
It was too late now to visit Violet
tonight, but he went up stairs, and,
softly turning the knob of the door of
the room where his mother slept, he
noiselessly approached the bed, and,
bending down, touched his lips to the
old, withered forehead reverently.
She started up, with a glad sob of
joy.
"My boy! my boy who 1 thought
was not glad to see his mother"
He quieted her at last, wondering
why his own heart felt so light, and
she fell asleep with his hand tightly
clasped in hers.
"You did not come last night" said
his betrothed, who next morning he
sought her presence.
"No, Violet" he answered, "but |
am come to-day to tell you how un-
worthy am Of your love. Last night
my mother came to me Nay, do not
start. 1t was no visitant from the
spirit land, bat an actual reality. |
have never told you Of my mother.
Think Of it-a man so blessed, and yet
dumb! All her life she toiled with
poverty-for whose sake. think you? !?
Her sons, that she might make him
gentleman. God prospered him, and
enabled him to take all the burden
from her old shoulders, as so he
thought he had done his duty. He
fed the body, but he let the heart
starve Last night, in the desperation
of her hunger, she sought me out
For moment-oh, bitter humiliation!
my pride rebelled. Think Of it,
Violet-that cruel, unnatural pride
which would bring a blush into a
mans cheek, blush for the woman
who bore him. | thought Of you, with
your pretty, dainty ways, side by side
with her plain and homely ones. l
knew the two never could be recon-
ciled, and so, Violet, I have come to
ask you to forgive and forget me. My
heart, my home, are my mothers
henceforth and forever"
Had the man some lingering hope
that the girl before him would refuse
the sacrifice? Certainly an added
look Of suffering grew into his eyes as
she answered nothing, only laid her
hand in his moment, as If IN fare
well.
His visits seemed very long, very
weary all that day; but, as he crossed
the home threshold at nightfall, he
smoothed the frown from his brow, as
he remarked:
"She must suspect nothing"
He would find her, he knew, IN his
study. As he softly opened the door,
he anticipated her glad cry Of "My
boy" as she tremblingly rose to greet
him but, ah, he had not anticipated
the picture which met his gaze.
His mother was sitting, indeed, In
the armchair by the fire, but at her
feet. her head resting in her lap, while
the old fingers caressingly stroked the
luxuriant chestnut hair, was another
figure, which rose instead to welcome
him.
Bernard" the sweet voice whis-
pered in his ear, II lost my mother
when was a baby. 1t has been 50
sweet to find one again ! You said,
hencetorth your home and heart were
hers. Oh, my love, may we not share
the BOOM"
All mankind is accustomed to call
the dust from which man sprung,
Mother Earth. Many men are, how
avar q disrra-ca IN their maternal an