The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-11-24
JOHN NGLEFIELD'S THANKSGIVING
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.


figure of the domestic circle, the fire threw
its strongest light on his massive aud sturdy
frame. reddening his rough visaRe so that it
looked like the head of an iron statue, all
aglow from his own forge, and with its
features rudely fashioned on his own anvil.
At John Ingleteld's right hand was an
empty chair. The other places round the
hearth were filed by the members of
she family, who all sat quietly, while
with semblance Of fantastic merriment,
their shadows danced on the wall behind
them. One or the group was John Ingle-
fields son. who had been bred at college
and was now a student Of theology at
Andover. There was also daughter of Ii,
whom nobody could look at without think
Ing OF q rosebud almost blossoming. The
only other person at the fireside was Robert
Moore, formerly an apprentice Of the black
smith, but now his Journeyman, ard who
seemed more like an own son OF John Ingle-
field than did the pale and slender student
Only these four had kept New England's
festival beneath that roof. The vacant
chair at John Inglefield's right hand was In
memory Of his wife, whom death had
matched from him since the previous
Thanksgiving. With a feeling that few
would have looked Tor In his rough nature the
bereaved husband had himself set the chair
In its place next his own, and often did his
eye glance thitherward as if he deemed it
possible that the cold grave might send
back its tenant to the cheerful fireside, at
least for that one evening. Thus did he
cherish the grief that was dear to him.
But there was another grief which he would
fain have torn from his heart; or, since that
could never be, have buried il too deep for
others to behold or for his own remen-
brance. Within the past year another
member Of his household had gone from
him, but not to the grave. Yet they kept
no vacant chair for her.
While John Inglefeld and his family we're
sitting around the hearth, with the shadows
dancing behind them on the wall, the outer
door was opened and light footstep came
along the passage. The latch of the inner
door was lifted by some familiar hand, and
young girl came in, wearing cloak and
hood, which she took off and laid on the
table beneath the looking-glass. Then,
after gazing moment at the Preside circle
she approached and took the seat at John
lngletield's right hand, as il it had been
reserved on purpose for her.
~ Here l am at last, father" she said.
"You ate your Thanksgiving dinner with
out me, but have come back to spend the
evening with your
Yes, it was Prudence Inglefeld. She wore
the Same neat and maidenly attire which
she had been accustomed to put on when
the household work was over for the day,
aud her hair was parted from her brow in
the simple and modest fashion that became
her best of all. II her cheek might other
wise been pale, yet the glow Of the fire suf-
fused it with healthful bloom II she had
spent the many months of her sence in
guilt and lnfa ny, yet they seemed to have
left no traces on her gentle aspect. She
could not have looked less altered had she
merely stepped away from her fathers fire.
side for half an hour and returned while the
xyn n a,-d
brands that were burning at her departure.
And to John lnglefeld she was the very
image of bis buried wife, such as he remern-
bered her on the first Thanksgiving which
they had passed under their own roof.
Therefore, though naturally a stern and
rugged man, ne could not speak unkindly Co
his sinful child. nor yet could he take her to
his bosom.
you are welcome home, Prudence" said
he, glancing sideways at her, and his voice
faltered. Your mother would have re-
joiced to see you, but she has been gone from
us these four months"
81 know 1t, father. know IT," replied
Prudence, quickly. "And yet, when first
came in, my eyes were so dazzled by the fire.
light that she seemed to be sitting In this
very chair"
By this time the other members of the
family had begun to recover from their sur
prise. and became sensible that it was no
ghost from the grave nor vision of their
vivid recollections, but Prudence her own
self. Her brother was the next that greeted
her. He advanced aud held out his hand
affectionstely, as brother should, yet not
entirely like a brother, for, with all his
kindness, he was still a clergyman, and
speaking to a child OF sin.
''Sister Prudence" said he earnestly, 81
rejoice that meroiful providence hath
turned your steps hOmeward in time for me
to bid you last farewell. In few weeks,
sister, am to sail as q missionary to the fer
islands OF the Pacific. There is not one of
these beloved faces that l shall ever hope to
behold again on this earth. o, may i see
all of them-yours and abbey ond the
grave"
A shadow fitted across the girls counte-
nance.
"The grave is very dark, brother,n an
swered she. withdrawing her hand some
what hastily from his grasp. You may
look your last at me by the light of this
fire.
While this was passing the twin-girl-the
rosebud that had grown on the some stem
with the castaway-stood gazing at her
sister, longing to fling herself upon her
bosom, SO that the tendrils of their hearts
might intertwine again. At first she was
restrained by mingled grief and shame, and
by dread that Prudence was too much
changed to respond to her affection, or that
by the lost one. But, as she listened TO the
familiar voice, while the face grew more
and more familiar, she forgot everything
save that Prudence had come back. Spring.
ing for ward she would have clasped her in
a close embrace. At that very instant,
however, Prudence started from her chair
and held out both hands with a warning
gesture.
mo, Mary; no, my sister," cried she; 'do
not touch me- Your bosom must not be
pressed to mine"
Mary shuddered and stood still, for she
felt that something darker than the grave
was between Prudence and herself, though
they seemed so near each other in the light
of their fathers hearth, where they had
grown mp together. Meanwhile Prudence
threw her eyes around the room in search
OF one who had not yet hidden her well
come. He had withdrawn from bis seat by
the fireside and was standing near the door,
with his face averted, so that his features
could be discerned only by the Pickering
shadow of the profile upon the wall But
Prudence called to him in a cheerful and
kindly tone:
Come. Robert" said she. went you
shake hands with your old friendp
Robert held back for a moment, but af-
lection struggled powerfully and overcame
his pride and resentment. He rushed to-