The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1885-10-29

premises. Look at m. de 8 lolke a
choild, for the moildness of his de-
maynor."
s;Mr. Cameron, said Bassett, "but
for you | should have lived a prosper
GUS life, and nv old age would have
been surrounded with honor, love, ODE
dience, troops of friends. But that
which should accompany old age
IchabodI" cried the model. wildly,
'Ichabod! the glory is departedp'
Take it easy now" suggested Ho-
gan.
al ask nothing better" said Mr..
Montgomery Bassett, than to leave a
presence distasteful to every instinct of
my better nature"
lis this how you do it, Bill?" cried a
new voice at the door. ''Is it amateur
theatricals. or painting from the life, or
what is it?'
Come in, Horace" said Cassidy,
with a sigh. I'D hoped ye'd see the
school respectable. But, begora, here's
Bassett back again; and [ believe it's
him instead of Beaconsfield that's de-
moralized the British Islands"
'Oh." said Leverett. advancing. "this
is Bassett, is it? What's the matter?"
Hogan brought him for model"
said William.
Take him up stairs" suggested
Leverett quietly. There's family
quarrel in it, Bill; and dirty linen is al
ways better washed in private"
Gentlemen" said Cassidy, I'm
very sorry to deproiVe We of the nights
instruction, but I'm afraid, under the
circumstances
Come along, boys" sang out one of
the students, and the crowd trooped
noisily away, with many backward
chances.
"What'n we do with mp" asked
Cassidy.
Heaven knows" said Jack, in an
swer.
I'm expecting Mary every minute,
and it would be terrible for her to find
him here in this condition"
Mr.. Bassett had cast away the cloak,
and his garments, in the broad gas
light, were seen to be foul and tattered.
Bassett," said Cassidy, ''ye've been
the blacklist villain 1 ever heard of.
But there's nobody here wants to hit a
man that's down, and think ye'd bet
ter gO.'
Sir" said Bassett. 81 am not wont
to be ordered from any mans house. l
will 60" He took up his battered hat
from the throne, and marched ajestic.
ally toward the door; but. Just as he
was about 20 lay a hand upon it, it
opened as if of its own volition, and
there stood his daughter. She knew
him in a second. Her outstretched
hands, and the look with which she re-
garded him told as much, too plainly
to be doubted. His own look, and the
start he gave, may have helped her.
Jack ran to his wife's side, and put
an arm about her.
my child is still my child" said Mr..
Bassett, with mournful dignity. 81
have fallen low in the worlds esteem
since last l saw you, Mary, and have
suffered much. Butt can still for
give"
If Mary Bassett had ever hoped for
any meeting, the vision she had cher
ished had been far, far different from
this. In face of the reality, she could
but cling blindly to her husband 5
arm.
81 should cen die with pity" said
Mr. Bassett. naturally disposed to find
in the woes of King Lear the nearest
poetic semblance to his own, Ito see
another thus. Do not laugh at me, for,
as / am man, l think this lady to be
my child"
''Bassett," said Cameron. quietly but
sternly, Il won't endure this. Go!"
Jack" besought his wife, don't
turn him out like this. Oh, papa!'
Nobody saw how it came about, but
she was clinging to his neck, foul and
tattered as he was, and villain as he
had been, and they were both upon their
knees together.
Poor, poor dear!' she cried, with
broken voice and fast-falling tears.
ITO have been so wicked and so cruel!
And to have suffered sol" She could
speak no further, but her clinging arms
and raining tears spoke more than any
words. She took the bald, unvener-
able head to her true breast and nursed
it there, and rocked it to and fro.
No man spoke word or laid hand
upon either of them, and on sudden
Montgomery Bassett began to sob and
cry terribly with an emotion not of the
stage or stagery, and for once in his
life the actor forgot TO play even to
himself, and sacred nature had full
swing within his shallow heart
There is no revenge diviner than for
giveness, and this vengeance his
daughter took upon him.
The men slipped past the two kneel-
ing figures, and left the father and
child together.
Mr.. Montgomery Bassett, provided
with yearly income of one hundred
pounds (by son-in-law who is at last
convinced of his own unworthiness).
and clad in black broadcloth, and
clean-shaven, is not so unlike his
former self that old friends refuse to
recognize him. He is not now so pop
ular as he once was when he had moro
money, but he has his little circle Of
old admirers still, and he himself is
happy in having forgiven Jack Cameron,
who maintains him. Jack prospers so
that Mr.. Bassett is likely enough to
have a grievance against him shortly
on the score of his allowance, which
seems to him curiously incommensurate
with his son-in-law's income.
The old man attends his daughter
dutifully. and takes luncheon with her
daily. Jack is so prodigiously busy
that sandwich and glass of claret,
served in the studio. are all he can af-
ford to take from breakfast time to the
dinner-hour; but it is noticeable that
this increase in his necessary labor has
only come about since it pleased fate to
restore his father-in-law.
When last called on Mrs. Cameron