The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1896-01-16

Il ut seems extraordinary-I-I sup
pose its very good of you II don't
quite understand. But, yes--yes-
take him if you like, by oil means;
should send him away, in any case.
Take him away, certainly" He
glanced at his writing table, and moved
towards it. I'll am busy-very busy.
Many new and delightful thoughts are
surging in upon me. Yes-take him
away"
The captain had put his arm about
the child and had bent to him, with IL
whispered word, and he now silently
drew the boy from the room, the child
ish eyes, SC like those other eyes, look
ing up at him trustingly.
With that day began a new life for
Capt. John Walker-a life that had as
it's guiding force the child of his dead
love. The boy and the man were in
separable; the boy absolutely happy
with one who understood and loved
him; the man a warmer-hearted, more
charitable being for the thought of the
sunny-faced, merry-eyed boy who
chung to him. The father was forgot.
ten quantity. The child was taught 10
swim, to ride, to he absolutely fearless
and to obey the captains own strict
code of duty.
Understand, jack" the captain had
said, with a grave finger appraised, IF
ever I find you have done a mean or
cruel action-or ever allowed anyone to
lick you, without fighting until you
couldn't stand-or ever funked any.
thing-or ever told a lie-or ever
bragged-or been anything but a gen
tleman-I'l send you back to your IA
ther. That will be the only place for
you," added the captain, with uncon
scious irony. "Your dear mother gave
you my name, and if ever you disgrace
it-by the Lord Harry, I've done with
you"
The warning was scarcely needed; the
boy was all even the honest soldier
could have desired. But, in the course
of time, Mr.. Maitland Kearsley came to
have curious feeling in regard to his
absent offspring. It was not love. He
had no real affection for the boy; it was
rather an indefinite feeling ofwoundcd
vanity-a petulant surprise that the
boy should have no wish to return to
him.
II do not believe in affection" he
murmured to himself once. "All-ab-
sorbing passion, that sweeps a mars
soul with it, is another thing worship
full quantity. The domestic affections
are made up of q mundane desire for
creature comforts and sustenance, for
the most part, assisted by a mistaken
sense of duty. But hoped the child
would have been drawn by the in
tellectual side of my character, and
would have become species of disciple
to me. am surprised that be should
cling to that terrible, brusque, COM
monplace soldier"
His thoughts found expression in a
letter suggesting to the captain that
the boys holiday had been sufficiently
prolonged, and asking that he should
be sent home. In his simplicity, Capt.
John Walker consulted his solicitor,
before him the : whole story.
There was, of course, but one answer;
the child must be given up. The cap
tain impatiently told the man of law
the office. But he, nevertheless, wrote
curt note. informing Mr.. Maitland
Kearsley that he would bring the boy
down on a certain day; he felt that
there was nothing else to be done. So it
happened that, on the day in question,
Capt. John Walker stood in the poets
house, with very white face, and with
the child clinging to him, whilst the
poet stood watching the pair, with
something of a triumphant smile about
the corners of his mouth.
I'm obedience to your request, Kears-
ley, have brought the boy back again.
I will not say anything of my own feel
ings in the matter; have learned to
love him very dearly, but that is outside
the question; you have, of course, the
right" He stopped. and kissed the
bright hair of the boy who chung to him.
"Jack-go to your father, my boy"
The boy glanced up at him for mo-
ment, and then, with quivering lips,
walked slowly towards Kearsley. But
he suddenly burst into passion Of
weeping, and flinging himself on the
floor, sobbed as though his heart would
break. The captain was turning away,
with dim eyes, when the sound Of
Kearsley's voice arrested him, speaking
in querulous tones.
"You frightful child!" he was saying
-"get up from there! You know I
can't bear scenes of this description;
they are so absurdly theatrical.
You're q most ungrateful little beast;
few thrashings will do you all the
good in the world. They've made q fool
of you, since you've been away"
He stopped and caught the boy
roughly by the shoulder and dragged
him to his feet. Capt. John Walker
wheeled round, and he shouted:
LET the child alone! Come here,
Jacki" Then, as the trembling boy
ran to him, and was encircled by his
arm, he spoke again, and his words
rang out, in the silence of the room,
like pistol shots: "No--Maitland Hears
ley love the child, and won't leave