Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-06-04
DIR. NOTIONS MOTHER.

chimed one short, musical stroke.
Through the half closed blinds shone the
silvery light of the fast-waning moon;
the candle had burned low in its socket
the log of wood had converted itself TO
ashes; but of all this DR.. Bernard Mol
ton saw or heard nothing, as he sat in
his Office chair, lost in thought. If the
moon had hidden the world goodnight,
if the candies feeble existence had en-
tirely ceased, and even the red glow of
the ashes in the CRATE had died away,
hewould still have seen only the picture
of the wOman's face whom he loved.
1t 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
it. No wonder that it all seemed new
and strange to him-that he was heed
less of time and space. She was such a
delicate, high-born lady, and he-ahl
another vision came before him now.
Not the cheerful office, with its luxu-
rious appointments-he might at least
offer Violet a home worthy of her-but
the memory of the days when he had
run, little baretooted lad, about his
mothers cottage, and she, toiling for
her only child, had earned, one by one,
the dollars which had sent him first to
the village school, and then to the great
city TO learn the profession for which he
longed.
He had succeeded well and bravely,
beyond his ambitious hopes but the
mother who had toiled for him-where
was sheP Why was it that tonight her
old, wrinkled face drove even Violet
Fane's beauty from himP
True, he had no longer allowed her
TO work true, she sat at ease in her lit
tie cottage, thinking of and praying for
her boy, who was so good and generous
to her; but was it his fault that his pa
tients were so many and his hours SO
precious that he could find no time to
gladden. her old heart by glimpse of
him now and thenP
And now-now that he thought of
Violet as his wife-Violet, with her
high-bred ways-Violet, whose every
association was in such widely differ
ent sphere--could it be that he was
ashamed of his motherP
The candle died out entirely the wood
was white with ashes now; the moon
had sunk to rest, the clock chimed two
but a red-hot flush burned on DR.. Mol
toms cheek as he rose to find his way
up to his room and bed, and perhaps
forgetfulness in sleep.
For three long hours he sought the
boon in vain, and when at last it came
to him, and his tired eyes closed, how
could he but dream of those other eyes
Just awakening in the far-off home,
which somehow tonight had so persist
entity haunted his thoughtsP
In the little cottage all was bustle, for
Mrs. Motion had determined to give her
boy a surprise, and the train for London
started very early.
London! 1t lay ten long hours away,
1t would be almost nightfall when she
arrived. How glad Bernard would be
to see her! He had never proposed
her coming, because he had thought she
would not find the courage; as though
for his sake she would not dare or dc
any thing!
She was sorry now she had not had
the village dressmaker make up the
black silk he had sent her, but it looked
so grand in its lustrous folds that il
seemed a pity to touch it with the scis
sors and she would seem more natural
like to Bernard in her stiff dress.
How often she had pictured him il
his lonely home! She hoped he nigh
be out when she arrived, that she nigh
take off her bonnet, and, slipping OF
her white cap, let him find her, with he
knitting in hand, quietly seated by thu
fre-side, 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 thought
to herself, and more than one glanced
at the smiling old face, with some
thing Juggling at their heart-string
which almost brought moisture int
their eyes.
1t was quite nightfall when the cit,
was reached. There had been som
slight delay on the road, and the oil
lady felt sinking at the brave hear
which had prompted her mission. How
ever, she succeeded in finding cabmal
willing to take her to the address sh
held in her hand.
1t must be mistake, or he ha
brought me to the wrong place. Q
dear, what shall doPn she sighed, a
he drew rein before large, handsom
house, presenting a well-lighted front
in one Of the most aristocratic portion
of Mayfair.
But oabby reassured her and she 500
found herself, surrounded by boxes an
bundles, facing the formidable "gentlt
man" who opened the door.
Save for suspicious shortness of
portion of his attire, which reached onl
to his knees, where they were met b
stiff leather leggings, the worthy woma
would have dropped him a courtesy.
"Past the Doctors office hour
ma'am," he said, in response to hI
feeble appeal. "It's as much as m
place is worth to take in your card"
"But have no card. He'll see M
MIN"
But she did not finish the sentence
only stepped inside of the door an
stood under the full glare Of the light
the hall lamp.
The man looked askance at the sing
lar apparidon. Her hat was crushe
and bent, her dress bore evidence
the dust of travel, and in her hand WI
a huge bandbOx, containing the hi
which was to astonish the Londoners.
"Indeed, ma'am-" the man begal
but the old lady walked steadily on
the door, beneath whose threshold 81
deserted stream of light.
The hot flush had by this time burnt
out of DIR. Notions cheek. The NOR
ing's dawn had dissipated the fOolii
fancies of the night. His duties for Il
day were over, and he was free TO se'