The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1886-09-15
CHAPTER NXv.

CHAPTER XXv.
FATHER AND CHILD.
1t was a sight TO bring tears to the eyes of
a strong man. The poor old father-white-
haired, haggard, trembling like a leaf, and
teverishly clasping the child who had been |
the darling of his days. He looked into her
face-he smoothed back her hair with his
wrinkled hand-he munmured her name
while, sobbing and moaning, she clung 10
him and entreated his forgiveness
l stood looking on, almost terrified. As l
did so, my aunt brushed past ihe, and, enter
ing the kitchen, uttered a cry of surprise.
"Annier'
The tone of her voice was harsh and cold,
and her face was stern indeed
Releasing herself from her fathers EN-
brace, my cousin turned to her mother with
outstretched arms
Yes, motherl have come back -
But my aunt with the same stern express
sion, repulsed her, and the poor girl fell back
with pitiful moan
Mother, mother, dear! won't you speak
to me?n
'Bide bit! VIVA brought 'ee? Did you
COON back alone?'
Annie turned her eyes pitifully toward
me.
We ttiiltC AiOiAt ttECtliNAs L SiIl, Shtp-
ping forward.
Let me look at 'eer p cried my aunt, sud
denly approaching her daughter, who hid
her face and sobbed. What, can't zee look
your mother in the face? Now? Then away
WI zee, for you'm na daughter o. miner
My uncle, who had sunk trembling into
chair, looked up, amazed, as she continued:
Look at your fatherl Look at the shame
and trouble you'm brought upon him! A
| year ago he were a happy man, and were
happy woman; but HOiO-look at us both
1tOl0! Better to be dead and buried than to
COON back var, WI thy shame upon zee,
| bringing sorrow and disgrace on folk that
| once held their heads up WI the beStu'
1 was lost in amazement at my aunt's Sc
| verify; for never for moment had | antci-
| pated such a reception. Hitherto, indeed
| my uncle had seemed TO take the affair most
| to heart, and il was his attitude toward An
| ME that had most dreaded. But the parts
| of the two seemed reyersed-my aunt was
| the stern man; my uncle the gentle and for
| giving woman.
Come, come, aunt" / said. You must
not talk to Annie SO. There has been troub-
lie, no doubt; but it is all over now, and
| everything can be explained.
| But my aunt was infleXible.
| 'Whar has she been all this while, tell me
4
comes back o her avn free will; but till
knaw what she ha' done, III ne'er sit down
or break bread WI her again.
Il told you how it would be!' cried Annie,
addressing her words to me, but still hiding
| her face. Let me go. | wish had never
| comeg'
| And she made hurried movement toward
the door, as if to tly. Seeing this, my aunt
| relented little, though her manner was still
harsh enough.
At this moment, my uncle rose.
Annie he said, 'dawn't heed mother.
| She dawn't mean it, my lass-she dawn't
mean it! Whateer you'm done, this is your
home, and you are our ehild-our little lass"
Then, turning to his wife, he added, Speak
to her, wife! speak kindly to her! May be
she'll tell zee all her trouble"
His broken tones, so pleading and pitifui,
melted the mothers heart. With wild cry
she sank into a chair, the tears streaming
| down her face.
"Oh! Annie, Annie may the Lord forgive
ZEE for what you ha' doneY'
Suddenly mastering herself, my cousin UNI
covered her face and looked at her mother.
Then, drying her tears, and speaking with
tremulous determination, she said:
| Il know have been wicked. l know /
should never have gone away. But if you
have suffered, so have l. L never meant to
bring shame and trouble upon you or father:
L loved you both too well for that. But if
you can't forgive me- if your heart is still Bit
ter against me land God knows don't blame
you, for deserve it ALI. | had better go
away. 1 don't want to be trouble or a
burden. | have made my bed, l know, and
l must lie upon it; and if l had not met my
cousin Hugh | should never have come
| home"
Tell me the truth, Annie PendragOn."
said my aunt. "Wha took thee from home?
Was it him as is lying, dead and murdered,
in his grayeg'
Annie opened her eyes in wonder. My
uncle started, and then, curious to say, avert
ed his face but stood listening.
What do you mean, motherg'
What daw 1 mean?' echoed my aunt,
sharply. What should mean, Annie PEN
dragon? Folk say you did leave ST. Guriott's s
wiz a man. Were that man him that is deadr'
Il have already asked her that question, y
said; ''and she denies it.
saw my uncle start again. He was still
] eagerly listening.
NO, mother" said Annie, firmly.
Nav? You were seen together i Fal-
mouth; all the folk think the oyerseer took
zee away fro home"
Then it is not true"
Ny uncle turned his face, which had been
; troubled before, now ghastIy beyond meas
ure.
"Annie, Annie. my lassr' he cried.
4, ''Dawn't deny itl Speak the truth, and we'll
forgive zee! 1t We're Measter johnson wha
! brought thee to your trouble-say it were
Annie, say it werep'
His voice was pleading and full OF en-
treaty. / alone of all there, guessed why.
; But Annie shook her head sadly, as she re
piled:
NO, father. Him you speak OF was moth.
! ing 10 me, and never harmed me by word OF
deed"
.;John Rudd saw ye together i Falmouth,
cried my aunt; .-and after that, the oversee
were away for days. Why will zee lie TO hel
that bore zee, Annie Pendragong'
Il am not lying, mother. am telling yol
: the Gospel truth. Father, she aroqs't believe
: mel But you viii. won't you? God knows
would not deceive you, after what ha.
,, passed.'
But my uncle had turned away like MAJ
|. mortally wounded, and, leaning against tn,
Intel of the window, was looking wildll
| out.
.Dawn't speak to mer' he said, ssdawn't
. my lass 1 can't bear itr'
l thought it time to interfere: so gentl
taking Annie by the hand, led her to m
: aunt, and made them shake hands and kis
each other. Thus some sort of reconcile
ment was established, and presently the tw
women, mother and daughter, went up-stair
together. My hope was that, after that, n
!. examinations would cease, and some sort O
peace be established in the unhappy houss
: Directly we were alone, my uncle turne
: and faced me. l saw that he was still greai
: ly agitated, and fancied that guessed tn
cause.
I'll "Hugh, my lad, = he said Il knaw l ca
I trust ZEE. Ever sim you was little Lac
you'm been almost son to me.
o With the tears standing IN my eyes,
: wTung his hand. l pified him, with m
whole heart and soul; for indeed / loved hin
L like son.
I "Hearken then. Hugh. my lad. Did 20
hear what poor Annie said about hersen an
y TIE ovoEseerf
Inodde1: end be continued;