The Yale expositor., 1897-02-26
INTERNATIONAL PRESS ASSOCIATION.
3Y B.C.FXRJEON.


| that is really there. and with out
stretched hands that seem to have
tongues in them, so eloquent are they
why, mother" l say, what are
you looking for? A ghost"
She gives me a scared look, tand lets
me lead her back to her chair, into
which she sinks, still all Of tremble
1T was 1 who gave you that 'Yo
heave, no! mother"
Really you, Amos?"
Really me, mother"
your voice was so like your
fathers, my son." says she, almost in
a whisper; "and at that moment was
looking into the fire, and thinking OF
him"
Presently she adds, 81 didn't know
but that he might be calling me to
come to him."
l pass my arm around her neck, and
she takes my hand and holds it in
hers, so that she has a necklet of her
own loving flesh and blood about her.
Then my voice is like my father's?"
eyes, my son."
heave, hov It used to make me jump
for JOY"
1T was the first thing you ever
heard from him, Amos. He was In
the Indies when you were born. He
came home in the early morning when
we were abed, not expecting him. All,
deary me! deary me! When l heard
! tic Il /
just now"
Then comes a long silence, during
which we both look into the fire again
I seeing Mabel, and my mother the
dead with his "Yo, heave, ho!'
Father was a fine man, mother"
Eyes, my son; you are like him.
1t is the first time my attention has
ever been called to my personal ap-
pearance. Well, yes. wasn't a Grip
pie, nor wry-faced. had fine brown
beard in those days, and l was tall
and STRAIGHTFORWARD.
so am like my father. l am glad OF
that. 1t was a love-match, mother?"
She knows that l refer to her court
ing days, and she draws a deep
breath.
Eyes, my son. We loved each other
true"
mo happiness without love, mother"
"None, my SON."
Her voice is broken by the tears
which are running down her old face
There is no happiness without love
and she had tasted it, this little pale
old mother of mine, and she lived now
on the memory, sucking honey out OF
the past.
And in the midst of these thoughts
comes the remembrance Of frowr
: on woman's face, and the cold touch
: of a dead hand. Vainly do l try tc
: shake it off.
How old were you, mother, wher
! you first saw father?"
81 was a little girl in pinafores, ny
2 SON."
Seven or eight years, maybe?"
: about that, my SON."
5 Like Mabel?" l say.
D I intend only to think this, my ques
Q tons being put so as to lead up t
= the point; but the words came gu
!. without my having anything to d.
s with 1t, as 1t seems. From this mo
l ment am conscious that my mother |!
1 watching me in a secret way. Well
9 what have l to conceal?
o ''Who was at Mabel's house to
r night?" she presently asks.
: mo one but Mabel and her mother,
e answer. H
s Wasn't any one else expected"
: mot that l know Of"
r It occurs to me that my mother ha
q a purpose in turning my thoughts il
this new direction, and I question he
j; concerning It, She answers me in
u roundabout way.
u "He is often at Mabel's house, and
thought he would be sure to be Their
e tonight"
o "He! Who?"
j. '"Have you not heard" she says, wit
k a uuaver in her voice, that a gentle
Il man is keeping company with Mabel?
"No, I have not heard. Is it true?
s "It is the common talk. The neigh
q bors say they will soon be married.
Is So here is an end to my wanderin
IS thoughts, an answer to my uneas
musings, cutting into me like sur
d geon's knife. This is the meaning o
l. that woman's coldness to me when
n left the house. 1 can read the stor
'e now, as she read the story of my low
s, for Mabel when she frowned upon me
s She has no mind that shall step in tn
70 way of the richer man.
IS "a gentleman, you say, mother?'
lr "One with plenty of money, any
ways"
"who is this gentleman, may l ask
a you must know him, Amos. Nj
lie Druce."
ut "Whatf tho monav lpnder2"