Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1895-06-20

his back upon the young man, as perhaps
was best
''Thank Godw Roderick said Mt last,
quietly and gravely. "Have | son or
daughter? l forgot, | did not quite
hear"
"A son, sir. Another Jardine of Black
hall. They tell me-Pve been up at the
house myse!'-that he's such grand
BARN that his mother is so proud of him"
His mother-my son; how strange 1t
soundsw
Roderlck put his hands over his eyes
vainy trying to realize that great change
in young mans life, when he has actu-
ally given hostages to fortune" and sees
himself not merely as himself, but as the
tather or a race to come, who will carry
down his name, laden with curses or
blessings, to remote posterity. A certain
momentary terror-or less terror than
awe-came over him. Then, as If accept
ing the responsibility which no good man
need fear, and which most men in their
secret hearts are rather proud Of he
shook hands with Mr.. Black, put his ac-
count books aside-lucISily they were near
ly finished-and prepared to go home at
once.
1t was wet night, had been pelting
rain all day; truly the small Jardine Of
BIackhall got but weeping welcome into
this "wearifu' world" But the Young
father never noticed It. He was fully and
overpoweringly happy. The fear which
half unconsciously had hung over him
like n cloud for weeks was now all
changed into delicious hope and joy.
Bidding a CHEEKY goodnight to Mr..
Black ("By the by, had a line from your
wife yesterday, but that's no matter now"
said he, MS they parted, Roderick walked
rapidly up the brae-the familiar walk,
with the light in the parlor window shin
Ing ahead all the way. 1t was dark now,
but there was a faint glimmer from the
room upstairs, his wfe's room. His heart
swelled almost to bursting as he looked
at it.
MY son, our son. Another Henry Jar
dine. If my father had only known! And
my mother, shall write to my mother?
Perhaps! Mop
Choking down the pain that would rise,
turning resolutely from the ever-lurking
shadow which no sunshine of joy could
quite Danish, the young man passed
through the dark garden to the hall-door.
Faithful Janet was there to open it;
only she. All was safe now, but it lad
been an anxious day. The house94elt
quiet-painfully quiet, its master thought,
as he went into the empty parlor. They
would not let him speak to his wife, but
only look at her as she lay asleep, like a
phln -.
but sweet smile fitted about her mouth,
and her left hand was extended outside
the coverlet, over small heap a little
helpless something. What q slender, soft
hand it seemed, with the wedding-ring
shining upon it, and yet how strong it
was--strong and tender-essentia a
mothers hand.
The young husbands eyes were dim,
but he had self-control enough to obey or
ders and creep quietly downstairs, not
even asking to see his little son. in truth,
just then he hardly thought of him at all
rs human entity, but only of the moth
er, the precious life imperiled and saved.
And he had known nothing--nothing, all
this time, With what silent courage had
she sent him away at breakfast time,
and kept him ignorantly content at his
work all that long day; that terrible day!
"Just like her. She never thinks of her
self, but of me. My darling-my only
darlingr
BY and by she awole, and he was al
lowed to kiss her, without speaking; in
deed, she made no attempt to speak, only
smiled-her own ineffably peaceful smile.
Then he settled himself in the parlor.
which looked frightfully empty, all the
more so that so many of her things were
lying about-her garden shawl and hat,
which she had taken off when she came
in the evening before, her work-box, her
desk-carefully left open, with a little
heap Of addressed envelopes placed on
the top of it, so as to save him all posi-
bic trouble. There were even the foreign
stamps ready affixed to the Neuchatel
letters. No one at home had been for
gotten; neither Mrs. Grierson nor Ledy
SymingtOn-not even Mrs. Alexander
Thomson. At which Roderick again NUT
tered, Just like her" But there was no
letter-how could there be-addressed to
Mrs. Jardine.
BEST not" he said with a thrill of
anger, the sharpest he had ever vet felt;
I'VE bore all our sorrows alone, we will
not make her a sharer in our Joy. 1t is
nothing to her, and she is nothing to us
now"
But even while he said it Roderick's
heart melted. 1t seemed as if, now he
was father himself, he felt all the
more yearning toward his mother-the
mother who bore him. Nothing could al
ter that fact.
With great sigh he sat down to his
solitary supper, and prepared for an
equally solitary evening.
He was slightly occupied, however, by
the letters he had to write-in French or
English-letters to those whom his wife
loved, and who loved her and would SYM
pathize with her to the uttermost, he
knew. Faithfully he fulfilled all her
wishes, even writing line to his sister
Bella. But this, unlike the others, was
brief and cold. AS he did it hot indig-
nation, righteous Indignation, famed up
in the young mans heart-he would not
have been true man elsa wrathful
sense of all his darling had been made
to endure-his innocent darling, whom his
mother had never known nor taken any
pains to know, and whom his sisters, fol-
lowing her lead, had as completely ig-
nored as if she were no wife at all. But
the storm did not last long-he was of
too gentle nature; and then he was so
happy, so very happy. From his calm