Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1884-01-05
JOSEPH GoLolNe.s CHRISTMAS.

/ 1t was very strange, thought oIt
i Joseph Golding, that he couldn't b,
master of his own mind. He haC
lived great many years, and nei
ther renlOrse nor memory had eve
been in the habit OF disturbing him
but now it seemed to him as if the
very foundations of his life were
breaking up. He was we'll through
with his days work-he had dined
comfOrtably-he sat in an easy
chair in luxurious drawing-roon
whose crimson hanging shut out
| the still cold of the December af.
| tternoon-he had nothing todo but
enjoy himself. Mr.. Golding liked
to enjoy himself at this season a.
much as others did, for it was Christ
mas Eve. What though he was
! in the habit of spending it solitari-
Ily ?-he liked solitude.
/ For many a year on Christmas
Eve he had sat balancing in his
mind the great accounts presented
in his ledgers, the accunulating
Golfers at his bankers, the strokes
of business he would make in fu.
ture. Not SO now. The year was
! drawing to a close: some intruding
voice kept whispering that in like
manner so was his career. He
could not put it from him, try as he
| would. The voice reminded him
of coming time when his life's
work would be ali done-eVen as
| his days work was all done now
when he would be ready to sit
down in the evening and look over
the balance sheet of his deeds, good
and evil. Curiously the old days
came trooping in slow procession
before him. And he had been
able to forget them for so very
long!
His dead wife. He had not loved
her much when she was with him,
but how vivid was his memory of
her now! He could see her moving
round the house, nOisleSs as shad-
OW, never intruding oH him after
he had once or twice repulsed her
gruf1y, but going on her own meek,
still ways, with her face growing
whittier every day. He began to un-
derstand, as he looked back, why
her strength had failed; and she
had been ready, when her baby
came, to float out on the tide and
let it drift her into Gods heaven.
She had had enough to eat and
drink, but he Saw now how that he
had left her heart to starve. Heav-
en- what a hard man he had been
He seemed to see her white, still
face, as he looked at it the last time,
with the dumb reproach frozen on
1t /; the eyes that would never plead
vainly any more, closed for ever.
He recalled how passi0nately the
three days-old baby had cried in
another room just at that moment,
moving all the people gathered to-
gether for the funeral with a thrill
of pity for the poor little mother
less morSel. She aCds a passionate,
willful baby, all through her tlaby-
hood; he remembered that. She
wanted-missed without knowing
what the hack Was-the love and
sustenance which her mother would
have given her, and protested
against fate with all the might of
her infant lungs. But as soon as
she grew old enough to understand
how useless it was, she had grown
quiet, too; just like her mother.
He recalled her, all through her
girlhood, a shy, still girl, always
obedient and submissive, but new
er dra wing very near him. Why?
Because he would have repulsed
her as he repulsed her mother. He
could see it now.. 1t was very
strange these facts should come back
to him to-day, and their naked
truth with them. He had been
cold, hard, ungenial man, without
sympathy for one human being;
absorbed utterly in the pursuit of
money-making. And so the child,
Amy, had grown up without
him.
But suddenly, when she was
eighteen, the old, passionate spirit
that had made her cry so when a
baby must have awakened again,
he thought for she fell in love then,
and wished to marry. TO marry in
disregard of his wishes. Heremem-
bered her standing proudly before
him after one of their quarreIs,
where he had been harsh and bitter,
and abusive of the man sac wanted
to call husband. She had borne in
silence reproach of herself;. but
not of him who had become to her
as her best existence. Her words
came back to the old man now,
"Father, do you know anything
against Harry Church 2"
"Yes, he had answered, wrath
fully; 81 know that he is a poor
man, and that he cannot keepa wife
as daughter of mine must be
kept"
'..Anything else, father!" looking
him steadily in the eye.
mo, that's enough" he had
thundered. "I'll tell you, besides,
that if you marry him my doors
will never open to you again, new
er."
He met with a will as strong as
his own, that time. She did marry
him, and went away with him
from her fathers house. Mr.. Col
ding had known the day the wed
ding was to take place, and dis |
dained to stop it. He washed his
hands of Harry Church, and Amy,
his wife. She wrote home after
wards, over and over again, but
Mr.. Golding sent all the letters
back unopened. Subsequent TO that |
they had disappeared from town
and he had never heard what be- |
came of them. 1t was at least ten |
years ago now.
1t seemed very strange that these
things should have come back to-
night to haunt him-and with a
wild remorse. plying regret. He
had done nothing to recall them.
Could it be his sense of falling |
health that brought them ?-if SO,
what sort of anguish might he not
look for as he drew nearer and near
er to the ending? He began to
wish thatlhe had known what had |
been in those rejected letters
whether Amy had been suffering
for anything that money could sup
ply, The next thought that struck I
him was, why had he opposed the
so violently, It is true
Harry Church had been but a clerk
in his own employ; but he was a
well educated gentleman. and
would rise with time. Faithful,
persevering, respected
but poor. In that last word lay
the head and front OF Harry
Church's offending, He, Joseph
Golding, was rich then; he was far
but he c0ald not help
asking it, what special good were
his riches bringing himy he wassl