Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1881-11-24


longer days of hushed silence and ach
ing loneliness a cofiined face, and
open grave. And darker, saddel
still was the burden Of an unspoker
grief, the harder perhaps TO bear fol
the very silence in which they hid
this bitter memory of clashing wills,
of stern authority on the one side and
angry defiance on the other, and q
young life drifted out of sight amid the
worlds fierce breakers. A memory
that had bowed Ansel Places proud
head, and threatened the thick lines of
gray amid his wife's dark hair. But
tonight her words had opened the door
of the sepulchre, and there rose before
him the visions of other Thanksgiving
Days, when merry children had made
music in the old house, and their glad
spirits broke over for the day the for
mality Of their set rules, and set the
low rooms ringing. Ansel Place was
not an emotional man. Life had been
hard and wearing, the poetry and ro-
nance had long since faded from
it. but tonight, with the
November rain beating on the
pane, tide of tenderness welled up in
his heart he saw two fond young
parents bending over the cradle of their
baby boy, and, DINNER still with tears,
q sweet girl face, lifted to loving eyes,
while set in a moonlit frame of swaying
honeysuckle vines and blooms. That
was long ago; there was no trace left
of girlish grace or beauty in the face
before him, worn by care and time, but,
looking, he saw not the vanished fair
ness, but something better, sweeter
still, crowning the years they two had
walked together, and touched by sud-
den impulse, he took her thin, worn
hand in his, saying with a tremor of
deep feeling threading his voice
"Say not SO, wife. We eare the Lords.
He is the giyer as well as the taker, and
though sit here lonely and perhaps
a childless old man, am not left DESC
late nor lack a Thanksgiving guest
while you are left me-"
"Forgive me, Ansel, "sobbed Hannah
Place, resting her head on her husbands
shoulder, "and may God forgive me
my ungrateful thoughts while we are
spared each other. But this pain of
uncertainty at my heart grows heavier
than I can well bear. To know that
Willy was dead were a comfort beside
this fear that haunts me day by day,
that he is a wanderer, an outcast, suffer
ing, perhaps lost to God and himself"
Her voice choked. and for a few mo-
ments only the ticking of the tall old
clock in the corner broke the stiffness;
then she spoke again. "Do you know,
Ansel, often wonder if we were wholly
blameless? Willy was wild and
thoughtless, but he was loving boy,
and I cannot believe he was bad at
heart"
81, too, have been wondering that
of late. God knows I loved and tried
to do my duty by the boy. but / fear I
was over strict, too severe with what
we're only boyish errors, and that instead
Of leading him in the right way drove
him from it. I thought then l was
right, but the more I think Of our
heavenly Fathers love and patience
with us, who are at best but weak,
erring children, I feel how much
failed myself"
So hand in hand they sat and talked
of this long-absent son, whose name
had not for years passed their lips, re-
minded each other Of ways and words
that neither had forgotten: yet which
were sweeter for the others telling.
Laughing gthroughtheir tears at treasured
child memories, and speaking in lower
tones of the sad days when the high boy
ish spirit had risen in fierce rebellion
against restraint, and of that darkest OF
all, when they had awakened to find
that home and hearts had been alike for
saken, and this their only son had gone
out beyond their love and care, each TAX
ing the blame Of the mistake made in
trying to break instead of train that in
tangible but intractable power of
will.
deacon Places Willy had run away"
It had been bitter blow to pride and
heart, SO that for years his prayer that
ssthe arm of the Lord might be over
their wanderer," was more an impreca-
ton than blessing but with the
creeping weakness Of age. he felt the
need Of the strong young arm he had
thought would have been his stay and
comfort, and tonight each confessed to
the other the yearning with which they
longed to behold their child.
The night wind rose UNDECIDED as they
talked, dashing the waves in q foam Of
spray on the beach. The fog lifted
from over the water. The warning bell
ceased its dreary tolling, and the gIeam
Of the Forkness light flashed out path
Of splendor in the night. The rain
Z.