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

sudden repulSlOn gave her Self-cOntrol. She
| put out her hands as if 20 ward him Of
ooh, my boy, my boyr' she cried, breaking
| out into hysterical sobs. ''My boy, my boy!"
| She wrung her hands and twisted them to-
| gether in fierce contortions which frightened
| Farnswolth; but she still would not allow
him to approach her. She struggled for
| composure, writhing in paroxysms dreadful
| to see.
''Oh, my childr' she cried out. in tone new
! and piercing; mo, mol Not him. Oh, God!
| You cannot have my boym
Farnsworth retreated sharply
He had not considered this Indeed, so
| different was everything he found from
everything he had expected that whatever
| he had preconsidered was swept out of exist
ence as irrelevant. He was confronted with
| catastrophe in which it was necessary to
| Judge unerrinely and to act instantly, yet
| which paralyzed all his powers by its strange
ness and its horror. He CROPPED his way
back to his chair and sat down, leaving the
silence again unbroken save by her convul-
sive breathing and his deep-drawn sighs
All at once new sound broke in upon
them, and the mother started to her feet.
"He is coming!" she gasped hoarsely. "I
| sent him away, but he has come back. He
could not keep away, my beautiful boy"
Her face was illunnned with love which
well nigh TRANSPORTED it. The door was
| opened violently, and the boy came rudely
| ina gaunt, rough whelp Of ten summers,
defiant bold, and curious.
81 knew there was something up,'' the
young rascal observed, with much self-com-
| placency, II knew when you sent me off to
| stay all night that somebody's funeral was
| COMM off, and was bound I'd be here to
see it."
Neither the mother nor the father returned
any answer Ordinary feelings were so ab
solutely swept away that the woman did not
even remember that she should have at
| tempted to quiet and to excuse the intruder
Even the maternal pride which would usu-
| ally have been troubled by the impression the
| childs rudeness must make upon her guest
was overwhelmed by the greater emotion
which possessed her whole being.
| Farnsworth had never been more kesnlv
| alive in every fibre of his being than at this
moment All his family PRIDE his refined
| tastes, his delicate nature, revolted from a
kinship with the ugly, uncouth child who
| parents His impulse, almost too strong to be
self again in the world from which he had
come-to leave this woman and her loutish
| child in the quiet and obscurity where he
had found them. But he was nobler than
| his impulses, and had paid already too
dearly for rashness; the claim of & son upon
the father who has brought him into the
world grasped his sense Of justice like hand
of steel.
Il, 10 !; foo IL
go away now!" he said to the boy quietly,
| but in a voice which even the ,lrchin felt
admitted of no disobedience II wish to
| talk with your mother. will see you to-
morrow"
! pleadingly. go to bed now. I will come
! 20 You before long. That's good boy"
The boy slowly and unwiDingly withdrew,
his reluctance showing how rare obedience
was to him, and tie parents were once more
| alone.
you have given him my NAME" were
Farnsworth's first words, Us the door closed
| behind his son.
'It was father who did that. He
said he should remember to curse you every
| time the name was spoken"
"And you?' the other asked, almost with q
shudder
81 did not care. Cursing could not change
| things. Only 1 would not let him do it be-
fore the boy; 1 didn't want him to know
| what sort of father be had.n
In the midst of his establishment some
hidden fibre Of resentment and wounded
vanity tingled at her words; but he world
not heed it.
81 am not so wholly bad, Della" he said
in q moment. 81 came back to marry you.
II viii not change OF msnd the past; but it
is the best can do now"
cit is of no use to talk of that" she re-
turned YEARLY; "you and I are done with
each other. Even I 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 shanaefacedness OF the poor over
whelmed her. She rose with uneven
steps and trembling hands, and began
to put things to rights little. She
snuffed the ill-corditioned candle, and
| trimmed the fire, whose drift-wood sent
out tongues OF fame. she SET hack into their
usual gaunt and vulgar order the chairs,
| which had been disturbed.
EarnsWorth watched her with an aching
heart
Della" he said at length, ''come and sit
down. We must decide what it is best to
do''
She obeyea him, although with evident re-
luctance. All the brief dignity which her
elevation Of mood had impaired had vanished
now, leaving her more haggard and worn
than ever. 4 faded, prenaturely old woman,
she sat twisting her red, stained hands in a
vain attempt to hide their ugliness in the
| folds of her poor dress Even self pity in
Farnsworth's breast began to vanish in the
| depth of compassion which the sexton OK
| cited.
Della" he said, II must think for
| US both, and for the boy. He must be
considered. For his sake we must he mar
ried.n
1t was at once with sense of relief and Of
humiliation that he saw how she sllrank from
this proposition TO have fallen from god
hood in the meanest woman's eyes is the keen
est thrust at mans pride. It gave Farms
| worth new conception that the gulf be-
tween them must looA as impossible from her
| side as from his He had thus far been too
| much absorbed in the sacrifices he was himself
| making to consider that all its desirabilities
would not appeal to her as to hfm-that its
very fullness and richness which SO held and
delighted him would confuse and repel her.
at is of no use!" he exclaimed, starting up
4 Il