Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-10-28

ment of passion and temptation; and to
Farnsworth, with the image fresh in his re-
| membrance of the faded, earth-stained wo-
| man digging grave upon the blank hillside
| the fault of his youth seemed al incredible
| dream which only stubborn aid singing
memory converted into possibility. A re.
Prospect is apt to be essentially Plea for self
| against conscience; but in his gloomy revery
| Farnsworth found scant excuse for the wreck
ne had made of the life OF Della Grinwet. He
had gone away, married, and lived honored
and prosperous He would have for
| gotten, had not some nobility of
his nature prevented. With the stub
| bornness of his race, he had fought
| long and determinedly against his conscience,
| but he had been forced to yield at last. The
| death Of his wife, to whom he had been ten
| derby attached, had at once left him free to
| make such reparat;on as might still be posi-
bic, and had softened him as only sharp sor-
row can. He had come to Kempton with the
| determination of finding Della, and Of doing
whatever could be done. at whatever cost to
| himself
He had been unprepsred, however, for the
woman he found. lie had left fresh. beau
| tiful young girl; ten years had transformed
her into repulsive old woman. He had no
| means of adequately measuring the force of
the storms Of scorn and poverty and sorrow
| which had beaten upon Della Grimwet in the
| years that had made of him the cultured,
delicately -nurtured man he was. What man
| ever appreciated the woe of the woman he
| betrays? indeed, what measure has a man OF
the sorrow Of any woman? Farnsworth
hal painfully to adjust himself to
condition of affairs for which
he should have been prepared,
| yet which which took him absolutely by sur
prise.
He fingered upon the bleak wharf, uncon-
sciously the object Of much mildly specua-
| tive curiosity, until the twilight began to fall
| Then, with a siliver, TO less ii mind than OF
| body, he shook off his painful distraction,
and turn 4 his steps toward tie path, once
| well known, which led to the home OF Della
| Grinlwet. It seemed to him. as he paused
| brief instant with his hand upon the old
knocker, as if nothing here had changed in
| ten years The sunlight would have shown
him traces Of decay, but in the gathering
dusk the house seemed a pallid phantom from
the past, unchanged but lifeless.
But his knock at once destroyed all illu-
siop5, since it summoned the woman who be-
longed not at ell to the past which ne remern-
! bered, but the pitiful and too tangible pres
ent. She held her gathering candle up with.
out word, and, having identified him, made
him, without speaking, a signal to enter
When Farnsworth had left her IL the after
noon Della crouched in the bottom Of the
grave she was digging, her first feeling being
an unreasoning desire for concealm9nt- She
| thought she should remain passive il the
sides of the pit collapsed and buried her. In
the old days before her boy wss born she had
| been night after night out or the old Whacves,
praying for courage to drown herself.
After the child came, her feelings changed,
anG she lonGed only to escape and to take her
son away from the scorn and sordid Life
which surrounded them. Gradually she had
become hardened; hers was one o. those com
mon natures to which custom and pains are
| opiates, mercifully duliing all s9nsibilities
To-day the appearance Of her betrayer had
revivified all the old impressions, and for
moment seemed to transport her to the early
days when her anguish was new The keen
est pangs OF sorrow stabbed her afreSh, and
| she lived again the bitter moments of her sin
and shame.
But habit is strong, and presently
! The fading light reminded the sexton that her
work was still unfinished, and that Widow
Pettigrove, who was past all earthly tribula-
ton, must have her last bed prepared. what
ever the woe OF the living woman who
worked at it with trembling hands and @ SEN
satiOn as if demon had clutched her by the
throat Yet work was not unInerciful; it
brought some relief, since it served to dilute
the thought which rushed dizzyingly to her
brain, and by the time her toll was completed
| she was steadier. When she opened the door
to Fa7nsworth she was not unlike her usual
stoiid self. She perceived at glance that he
had learned who she was, and she hoped, in
blind, aching way, thathe had not betrayed
his presence to the neighbors, thus to re-
awaken all the old singing fight Of bitter
words
Farnsworth followed Della into the
kitchen, without even those greetings
which habit renders so Involuntary that
only IN the most poignant moments are they
disregaried. With their past between them
| it was not easy to break the silence. Farms
! worth seated himself, and the woman stood
regarding him. There was in her attitude
all the questioning, the agony, Of her years
Of suffering. Her wrongs and her sorrows
gave her a dignity before which b. shrank as
he could not have quailed under the most
whitening reproaches. Whatever words he
yy0uld have sro&en-and no man can come
deliberately to 50 important a crisis without
| formulating, even II unconsciously, the plea
which his self-defense will nake-were fer
gotten, or seemed miserably inadequate now.
IT hat were words to this woman, pallid and
worn before her time with privation,
I anguish and unwomanly toll? The contrast
between his rich and careful dress and her
| coarse garb, between his white hands and
her knotted fingers, between his high bred
pale face and her cowed, weather-beaten
countenance, was too violent not to be ap-
parent to them both-as if they were in
some strange way merely spectators looking
| dispassionately at this wretched meeting OF
those who had once been passionate lovers.
| With. each moment the silence became
more oppressive; yet as each moment dragged
| by it became more difficult to break the still
ness. Only a man utterly devoid of remorse
or feeling could have framed upon his tongue
common place phrases at such time. 1t
seemed to Farnsworth as if he were brought
| to Judgment before the whole universe. His
throat became parched. He longed to have
the candle and the flames Pickering in the
old fireplace go oat in darkness and take
| from his sigha the Nemesis that confronted
| him.
| He broke the silence at last with a cry:
''Ah, my God, Della! What have donep
| She wavered as she stood, putting out
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