Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1883-08-31

eyes, Farnsworth," B" tho mother said plead
ingly. GO to bed now. will come TO you
before long That's good boy"
The boy slowly and unwillingly withdrew
bis reluctance showing how rare obedience
was to him, and the parents we're once more
alone.
"You have given him my name" we're
Farnsworth's first words, as the door closed
behind his son.
ut was father who did that. Ho said he
should remember to curse you every time the
name was spoken"
"And you 2" the other asked, almost with
a shudder.
II did not care Cursing could not change
things. Only l would not let him do it be-
fore the boy 1 didn't want him to know
what sort Of father he had"
In the midst of his sef-abasement some
hidden fibre Of resentment and wounded van
ity tingled at her words but he would not
heed il.
81 am not SO wholly bad, Della, " he said in
moment. 81 came back to marry you. 1t
will not change or mend the past, but it is
the best l can do now"
at is Of no use to talk that, she returned
wearily; you and are done with each 9th
er Even 1 can see that"
She was spent with the violence of her
emotions, and only longed to have Farms
worth leave her. She was keenly sensitive
now Of the nicely Of his attire, the contrast
between him and her meagre surroundings
The shamefacedness of the poor overwhelmed
her. She rose with uneven steps and trem-
bling hands, and began to put things to rights
little, She snuffed the i'll conditioned can
die, and trimmed the fire, whose drift-wood
sent out tongues Of flame. She set back in
to their usual gaunt and vulgar order the
chairs which had been disturbed.
Farnsworth watched her with an aching
heart.
"Delia," he said at length, "come and sit
down. We must decide what it is best to do"
She obeyed him, although with evident
luctance. All the brief dignity which her el.
ovation of mood had impaired had vanished
now, leaving her more haggard and worn
than ever. A faded, prematurely old woman
she sat twisting her red, stained hands in
vain attempt to hide their ugliness in the folds
of her poor dress Even self-pity in Farms
worth's breast began to vanish in the depth
Of compassion which the sexton excited.
Della" he said, II must think for us
both, and for the boy. He must be consid.
cred. For his sake we must be married"
It was ut once with a sense of relief and of
humiliation that he saw how she shrank from
this proposition. To have fallen from God.
hood in the meanest womans eyes is the
keenest thrust at mans pride. 1t gave
Farnsworth new conception that the gulf
between them must have looked as impossible
from her side as his. He had thus far been
too much absorbed in the sacrifices he was
himself making to consider that all its desir.
abilities would not appeal to her as to him,
that its very fulness and richness which so
held and delighted him would confuse and re-
pei her
at is of no use :" he exclaimed, starting
4aN Lavv -. III
come back in the morning. Think yourself
Della, mot of me, or even of yourself, 80
much as of the boy. 1t is of him that we
must have the first care Nothing can much
change our lives but the world is before
him. Good night"
However different may have been the refec.
tions of Farnsworth and of Della Grimwet
through that long, sad night, their conclu-
sions must have been in some respects iden.
tical for when the former came to the house
in the morning with the astonished clergy
man the woman acquiesced without any dis
cussion in the performance of the marriage
ceremony. 1t was an occasion which the
Rev. Mr. Eaton long remembered, and of
which he told to the end of his life, filling
out, it must be confessed, as time went on
its spare facts with sundry Incidents trifing
1t is true, yet gradually OVERLAPPING the bare
truth with completeness which the clerical
BObblp ulLlStll, WuOSe DeleI always Keep Kept
pace with his invention, was far from realz-
ing. The only thing he could with accuracy
have told, beyond the simple fact of the mar
risge, was that when, according to his wont,
he attempted to add few words Of exhorta
ton and moral reflection the bridegroom cut
him short and showed him to the door with
courtesy perfect but irresistible, and some.
what softened by the liberality of the fee
which accompanied the dismissal.
The boy during these singular proceedings
had remained in a state of excited astonsh
ment almost amounting to stupefaction but
when the newly-united family were alone to-
gether, his natural perversity broke out, aud
showed itself in its natural and unamiable
colors. To the father the child's every uu.
couth word and act were the most acute tor
ture; and the mother partly by woman's in
stinct partly from previous acquaintance with
her husbands fastidiousness, was to great
degree sensible of this She made no effort,
however, to restrain her child. She seemed
to have thrown of all responsibility upon the
father and busted herself in preparations for
the boys departure, about which, although
neither had spoken Of it, there seemed to be
some tacit understanding.
The forenoon was well worn when Farms
worth came to the door with his carriage, for
which he had gone in person.
Come, Della, he said, entering the house.
1--WE may as well leave everything as it is.
told Mrs Bemis to lock up the house and sse
to it. Are you ready p
''Farnsworth is" she replied, seating her
self in low chair and drawing to her side
the uncouth boy, who struggled to get free
He broke in rudely, announcing his readi-
ness, his Joy at leaving Kempton, and his
satisfaction at wearing his Sunday jacket
which to his father looked poor enough.
but you, Della ?" her husband inquired
putting up his hand to quiet the child. care
you ready ?"
81 am not going"
Whether it were relief, remorse, or aston
| ishment which overwhelmed him, John Farms
worth could never have told. He stood
speeohless, looking at his wife like one sud
denly stricken dumb. The boy filled in the
pause with noisy expostuations, depriving
the tragedy of even the poor dignity of 81.
lence. The father knew from the outset that
remonstrRnces would not be likely to avail,
yet he demonstrated perhaps, for human ma
ture is subtle beyond word, he was uncon.
sciously for that reason the more earnest in
his pleading. He would have been glad could
this woman and her child have been swept out
of existence. Already he had to hold him
self strongly in check, lest the reaction which
had followed his heroic resolve to marry De-
| liza should show itself; but he choked back
the feeling with all his resolution.
''No," Della persistently said, her eyes dry,
her voice harsh from huskiness. 1--WE no
place any where but here. 1t is too late
now. I've more feeling than thought, for
do care something even now to be an honest
woman in the sight of my neighbors aud
that'll help me bear 1t, 1 suppose. Take the
! boy, and do for him all you owed to me. l
should spoil all if went, He is best quit of
me if he's to please you and grow like you.
I'll stay here and dig graves l am fit for
nothing else. want nothing of you. mar
ried you for the boys sake, and for his sake
break my heart and send him away but
will have nothing for myself. The days when
l would have taken penny from you are
long gone"
She spoke calmly enough, but with GER
tain poi nant stress which made every word
fall like weight. He did not urge her far
ther He held out his hand, into which she
laid hers lifelessly.
"Good-by," he said. "As God sees me,
Della, I'll do my best by the boy will write
to you. If you change your decision, but
no matter now. l will write to you and to
the minister"
All other words Of parting were brief and
! coon enoban Tho how shOwad M amOtion