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


couth word and act were the most acute tor
ture; and the mother, partly by womans in
stinct, partly from previous acquaintance
with her husbands fastidiousness, was 10 a
great degree sensible of this. She made no
effort, however, to restrain her child She
seemed to have thrown off all responsibility
upon the father, and busted herself in prepa-
rations 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, Delia,n he said, entering the house.
''We may as well leave everything as it is.
told Mrs Benis to lock up the house ard
see to it,. Are you readyw
''Farnsworth is" she replied, seating her
self in a low chair and drawing to her side
the uncouth boy, who struggled to get free
He broke in rldely, 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, peliag' her husband inquired
putting up his hand to quiet the child. "Are
you readyyn
II am not going"
ishment which overwhelmed him, John
Farnsworth could never have told. He
stood SPECIFICS, looking at his wife like one
suddenly stricken dumb. The boy filled in
the pause with noisy expostulations,
dignity of silence The father knew
would not be likely b avail, yet he remon-
beyond word, he was unconsciously 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 himself strongly in
check lest the reaction which had followed
his heroic resolve to marry Della should show
itself; but he choked back the feeling with
all resolution.
"No," Della persistently said, her eyes dry,
her voice harsh from huskiness Eve no
place anywhere 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; and that'll help
me bear it, suppose. Take the boy, and do
ior him all you owed TO me. should spoil
all if I went. He is hest quit of me if he's to
please you and grow like you. I'll stay here
and dig graves; am fit for nothing else. I
| want nothing of you. married you for the
boys sake, and for his sake I break my heart
and send him away; but will have nothing
for myself The days when 7 would have
taken penny from you are long gone"
She spoke calmly enough, but with a car
tain poignant stress which made every word
fall like weight. He did not urge her far
Their. He held out his hand, into which she
laid hers hfeiessly.
''Good-by,n he said Gas God sees ne,
Della, I'll do my best BY the bay. 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
soon spoken. The boy showed no emotion
at leaving his mother, as he had throughout
exhibited no tenderness. He climbed noisily
into the carriage, and the father and son, so
strangely assorted, rode together up the hill,
past the stark Westinghouse, and 50 on into
the world whose SETTLING waves seldom
troubled, even by such ripple as the
events just narrated, the dull calm Of
Kempton; and to John Farnsworth it was as
if the woful burden Of remorse which had so
long vexed heart aud conscience had taken
bodily shape. and rode by his side.
Della had been calm until the two wers
gone-so calm that her husband thought her
still half dazed by the excitement and an
guish of the previous night. She stood
steadily at the window until the carriage dis
appeared behind the gTave-covered hill. Then
she threw herself groveling upon the floor in
the very ecstasy OF woe. She did not Shrek,
strang.ing in her throat into inarticulate
means and gurglings the cries which rent
their way from her Utmost soul; but she beat
her head upon the bare floor; she caught at
the furniture like wild beast, leaving the
print of her strong teeth in the hard wood;
she was convulsed with her agony, an mar
ticulate animal rage, boundless, mex
preside anguish which could not be
measured or expressed She clutched
her bosom with her savage hands, as if
she would tear herself in pieces; she
wounded and bruised herself with a fierce
ness so intense as to be almost delight.
In the midst of her widest paroxysrn there
came a knocking at the door. She started
up, her face positively Illuminated. 'They
have come bacl!" she nlurmured in ecstasy
She rushed to the door and undid its fasten
ings with fingers trefnulous from eager JOY.
A neighbor confronted her, staring in disrnay
and amazen1ent at her strange and di-
shevelled appearance.
whats come to ye. Dele?" he demanded
roughly, though not unkindly. 'FWhen ye
goin' to put the box il Wilder Pettigroves
grave2"
She confronted him for an instant with a
wandering look in her eye, as though she
bad mercifully been driven mad Then the
tyranny Of life and habit reasserted itself.
''I'l come up now, Bill" she said.
And she went back to her graves.