The record-union., 1897-11-04


I'm fretting you, mothereen- 'Tis
you was the good little mother to me,
only too fond, too fond''
Il often reproach myself, child
why, little mother? You would have
saved me if you could. And after
ward"-the girl shuddered-"there was
Rose Moran that her mother turned
from the door with a curse. I have
thought of her nights as they brought
her out of the river, dripping, as the
men carried her.
Don't even yourself with Rose
Moran, my lamb You were only an
innocent child, and the sin was on them
that led you astray. May they answer
to God for it
''Whisht, mother dear. You promised
me to forgive. / couldn't rest in my
grave if 1 thought your heart was hard
ened against him, and you're wrong
/ calling him to account before the
throne
There, jewel 1 spoke rashly
never meant to let the words pass my
lips
You must forgive him, mother. If
you hate him it will hurt me most"
You, my lamb?"
Yes, because / love him. There! Let
me speak the truth once before I die. I
love him, and If l see the face of God,
1 shall fling myself ON my face there
and cry out to him that he may win
repentance as I have done. Could l be
in heaven and he in torture?"
1T is right that the wicked should
suffer"
''Oh, no. no! Not one that a woman
mas loved, that a woman has brought
into the world. Would God let him
grow in his mothers womb, and be a
little milk-fed baby at her breast, as
he was at his mothers, to thrust him
afterward, he that had such tender
limbs and soft little BONES into ever
lasting fire? Oh, no! God is love.''
s'Whisht, child, you are exciting your
self and the doctor will be vexed.
Leave such things to wiser heads than
yours or mine"
"I cannot, because I love him. My
love will save him at last. Could you
forget me, mother?"
mo, my bairn.''
Nor I him. My love is as un-
quenchable as my remorse. I should
love him no matter how evil and crueI
he was to me- But he loves me, mother.
and when he comes back to find me
gone he will grieve''
The mothers lips stirred voicelessly.
There was no longer singing of
hymns. The benediction was over and
the children had gone by twos and
threes through the meadows, golden
with buttercups, to their homes and
their evening meals. Suddenly clock
CT -1t11 Of ,la, ,~f11
whitened the mothers brown skin, and
she stood up.
Let me close the window, dearie.
The dews are beginning to fall. See, 1
shall wheel back your chair to this cor
ner and fetch you your cup of tea"
NO" said the girl. querulously at
is very hot. and you don't know how
gasp for breath. Let the window
alone
The mother laid her hand on it, and
the paleness had extended to her lips
She spoke with a thick eagerness that
huddled her words together.
Il must shut it; it's for your good,
my lamb. DIR. Davidson said you must
not be exposed to the dews."
There are no dews. 1t will be hours
before they come. Oh, how cruel you
are TO want TO St1fie me.
The mother dropped her hands with
a gr6an and turned away. There was a
sudden peal of joybells from a church
tower in the distance. The clang and
rattle Of them filled the little room and
drowned the song of the blackbird The
! girl leaned back exhausted with her
| own vehemence, and heard the bells
hstlessly.
why are they ringing, mother?
| haven't heard them so since his father
the old lord, used to come home.''
How should l know?" with averted
face. Some great news from England
belize. A battle or a coronation, or
some such thing
Il thought he might be coming home
You've heard nothing mother?"
What should l hear?' The pain in
her voice made it harsh "'Tis nothing
of the kind. Only some foolishness. /
tell YOU
| Very well. Then I shall have my
tea and you may close the window. I
don't like the bells. liked the hymns
of the procession, but now I'm tired
and l shall sleep soon, 1 think"
The mother closed the window and
went out Of the room. Alone she drew
a long breath and her hands clenched
and unclenched themselves. She let her
features drop into an expression of
haggard weariness.
THE villain" she muttered under her
breath. "The villain! To think that
! she should sit there and listen to the
| joybells for him bringing home his wife
And my child dying"
| Once more she put her hand to her
side.
Il must not curse him. she said. be
| cause l promised her not. God will deal
with him. And she-she is a saint. All
the countryside says it. And her secret
is ours-mine and Father Johns. and
God's-ours to keep till the judgment
| day. Why, even then it will not be
spoken. Her tears will have washed it
all away, for she is saint. But even
her tears will not wash away his sin. :"
"Ah.' she cried again, for the room
was full OF the joybells. "Ah." She
shuddered and clapped her hands to
her ears, as if she would shut out the
the sound. A weak voice called her.
Coming, my dearie," she made reply
| Il was but putting a stick or two under
I the kettle to make it boil London
/ Speaker.
Heartless.
! THAT was very inhuman reception
Henderson gave the tramp who called