Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-02-29
DIR. NOTIONS MOTHER.
Or a Son Lost and Found.

chimed one short, musical stroke. And
through tine haif-closed blinds shone the
silvsry light of the fast-waning moon
the candle had burned low in its socket
and the log of wood had converted itself
into ashes; but of all this, DR.. Bernard
Motion saw or heard othing, as he sal
in his office chair lost IN thought. 1t the
moon had hidden the world goodnight;
If the candles feeble existence bad en-
tirely ceased, and even the red glow OF
the ashes had died away, he would still
have seen only the picture of the woman
| face whom he loved.
1t was with him now as it had been
with him for hours past, since the mo-
ment he had placed his fate Ill Viola
Fane's keeping,and she had accepted it.
No wonder that it all seemed new and
strange to him-that he was needless of
time and space. She was such delicate,
| high-born lady. and he-ah, another
vision came before him now. Not the
cheerful office with its luxurious appoint
ments-he might at least offer Viola a
home worthy of her-but the memory of
the days when he had run, little, bare
footed lad, about his mothers cottage;
and the toiling for her only child by
which she 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 Tor which he had
longed.
lie had succeeded well and bravely,
beyond his most ambitious Hopes but the
mother who had toiled for him, where
was she? Why was it that tonight her
old, wrinkled face drove even Violet
Fane's beauty from him.
True, he no longer allowed her to
work; true, she sat at ease i'll her little
cottage, thinking OF, and praying for her
boy, who was so good and kind to her;
but was it his fault that his patients were
so MANY and his hours so few that he
could find 30 time to gladden. her old
heart by glimpse OF him now and
then?
And now-now that he thought of
Violet as his wife-Violet, with her high
bred ways-Violet, whose every associa-
ton was in such widely different
sphere-could it be that he was ashamed
Of his mother?
The candle died out entirely; the
wood was white ashes now; the moon
had sunk to rest; the clock chimed Q;
but a red-hot flush burned Oh DIR. Mol
toms cheek as he rose to find his way up
to his room and bed, and perhaps forget
fulness in sleep.
For three long hours he sought the
boon in vain, and when at last 1t came to
him, and his tired eyes closed. how could
he but dream of those other eyes just
awakening,in the far-otf home, which
somehow tonight had SO persistently
haunted his theughts2
In the little cottage all was hustle, 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 nishtfall when she
arrived. How glad Bernard would be
now to see her! lie had not proposed
her coming, because he had thought she
would not find the courage; as though
! for his sake she would not dare or do
| anything.
She was sorry now that 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 it
seemed pity to touch 1t with scissors,
and she would seem more natural like to
Bernard IN her stiff dress.
How often she had pictured him in
his lonely home. She hoped he may be
out when she arrived, that she might
take off her bonnet, and slipping on her
cap, let him find her with knitting in
hand, quietly seated by the freside, wait
ing his return.
All the way in the train, when at last
she had got started on her journey, she
could hardly keep her happy thoughts
to herself; and more than one glanced in
to the old face, with something tugg
ing at their heart-strings which almost
brought moisture to their eyes.
1t was quite nightfall when the city
was reached. There had been some slight
delay on the road, and the old lady felt
a sinking at the brave heart which had
prompted her mission. However, she
had succeeded in finding cabman will
i lily W ldhC 1CI W IllC duulCSS SuC lulu III
her hand.
III. must be mistake, or he has
brought me to the wrong place. Oh, dear,
what shall do?" she sighed, as he drew
rein before large, handsome house, pre-
senting well-lighted front, In one of the
most aristocratic portions of Mayfair.
But the cabman reassuIed her, and she
soon found herself surrounded by boxes
and bundles, facing the formidable gen
tieman' who opened the door.
Save for suspicious shortness of q
certain portion OF his attire, which reach
ed only to his knees, where they were
met by stiff leather leggins, the worthy
woman wonld have dropp:d him cour-
tesy.
Past the doctors Office hours, ma'am,'
he said in response to her feeble appeal
'It's as much as my place is worth to take
in your card
'But have no card. He'Il-he'l see
me, I'm-I'm--'
| But she did not finish the sentence
only stepped inside the door and stood
under the full glare of the light in the
hall.
The man looked askance at the singu-