The Caucasian. (Clinton, N.C.) 188?-1913, 1893-11-02
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10 hut things must be altered.
lyon take advantage Of nv helpless
old are N insult me with impunity,
girl. 1t is the common lot OF parent"
70 experience the ingraItude OF emil
lren. But go on. go on am l'sten-
ing"
IL was poor old Lcar's lament minus
IT'S dignity and it's provocation.
She let il pass without comment.
cone hears a great deal OF what
children owe to their parents III inns
world, father, but remarkably little OF
what parents owe to their children
Among other fixed moral laws OF crea-
ton is the one that compclo chlld 10
believe every word its parent utters'
for no better reason than that it is ut
tered by Il parent
For twenty-one years, father, or, at
least, ever since ] have had sense
enough TO imbibe hatred, have been
told that it was my duty to hate any
body, everybody, rather, and every
thing. connected with White Cliffs.
| And honestly tried to do my duty IN
that respect. I owed it to my father.
/ when / met Dennis Lorimer at the
/ Pass that summer on my one free hon-
day and fell in love with him, L felt
! like the worst of criminals and a
traitor to you. There was some mys-
ferrous thing between him ard me, be-
tween me and my happiness, that l
bowed before with the blindness OF
fetichism. I drove my lover away from
me, with moro resolution, perhaps, than
I would have exercised II he had COM
mitted crime In his own person l
owed it to my father.
"When he came to me and told ma
that he was going into exile for my
sake, that his mothers vindictive de-
termination to separate US had carried
her to the extent of telling him that he
must either VOW never to try to see me. or
leave her presence then and there, never
to return again, helped him to bow to
the fat which bore equally upon US
both told him we owed 1t to our
parenta And when you, hearing
through Cato's treachery that he was in
the summer house that day, sent him
your insulting message, | almost de-
spised him for the promptness and
meekness with which ne oOeyed 1t. Ee
went away, and in my heart l called
him q coward I began to cultivate
hatred in my own person. Your leaven
was at work, you see, father. owed
It to you to learn how to hate.
Dennis came back to see me siz
months ago, father. He told me then
that he had been looking for Sibley.
He could not wiring this rusty old secret
from his mother. You would not ad.
init him to your presence, but if he
could find Sibley he would face him,
man to man, and demand to know what
1t was that stood between the houses OF
! White Cliffs and Glenburnie."
The old sybarite leaned forward Ia
his chair in an eager attitude of atten'
ton:
"Well? and Sibley-did he find him?'
'Tt was not difficult thing to do, "a
Their. Sibley is in New Orleans-has
been in good business there for some
time now You knew that?" He dropped
his eyes silently
: at is pitiable, father" she went on
} impetuously, ''to see a parent drop hi
eyes before a child-a helpless girl a
that! But was it right, father, to leav,
. me in ignorance all this time that Sib
: ley had written to you, telling you i
you would relinquish your absurd VOW
and take your proper place at home. b
: would come back and help you?"
"Sibley is an unruly, tempestuous fel
low-troublesome. did not want him.
Not SO easily trodden under foot a
: a girl. But he is coming back, father
! He and Dennis are good friends. DENIM
e faced him like man, and Sibley had
, confess that he was as ignorant as til
S rest of US. But out there in the breezy
: fresh current of life that those tw