The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1898-09-06

nights you walked him up and down in
your arms. when the fever would not
let him sleep; how many days you sat
beside him calming the deiirious
fancies of his baby brain till the day
that life-giving sleep came to restore
him, and again you thanked God for
your boys life"
| Matte. you torture me! cannot
bear ths!" the sick man murmured
hoarsely.
II was at my window one morning"
Matte said, still in the same even
monotone, when carriage dashed up
the road with pair of runaway horses.
The reins were in the road, apd there
was no control over the terrified ami
mails, who dashed forward, the car
riage swaying heavily from side to side,
threatening every moment to be DASH
ed to pieces. Inside man tried vainly
to open the doors. The driver lay up
on the road beyond, thrown from his
seat, half intoxicated and badly in
jured. While looked, paralyzed with
horror, mere boy, not eighteen. ran
from my door into the road, threw
himself before the horses, battled with
them as they reared and plunged,
threatening every moment to dash him
to pieces, and held them until other aid
came. Men ran to help, and the strip
ling opened the door of the carriage
when the horses were quiet, to release
his father. Blood was streaming from
great cash in his face, but he never
needed 1t when his father held him in
close embrace, thanking him for his
life. Again, Simon, heard you thank
God that in saving your life your boy
had not lost his own"
There was deep silence in the room
as Matte spoke the last words. Simon
Hartwright's face was hidden, but his
hands trembled, covering the agitated
features. Matte took from her pocket
letter and read:
my Dear Aunt Matte: Lucy Is about
again, and our boy is doing finely. He
is thorough cartwright, with my
dear fathers eyes, and we have had
him christened Simon. wrote to my
father, but again my letter has come
back to me unopened. How can ever
soften his heart toward me IL he will
never read my letters? weary for his
forgiveness! am doing well here,
and my salary will allow some little
comforts for Lucy and the boy besides
mere necessities; but long to hear my
father say, Ned, forgive you.'
III you knew Lucy in her life here,
If you could see how patiently she
bears every privation, how loving she
is when we are still so poor how care
full she is never to reproach me for
what she has suffered, you would not
wonder that cannot say: Father, I
am sorry l married herr am not;
I never can be sorry for that yet I |
do sorrow over my fathers anger.
"Will you not see him for me, plead
for me? Tell him I care nothing for
his wealth; we can live happily in our
humble fashion, but long unutterably
to hear his voice in forgiveness, to
clasp his hand, to know he loves me
again! Plead for me, Aunt Matte.
He must be lonely, and my heart aches
for his loneliness.
Lucy sends love and this tiny lock
OF young Simon's hair. Lovingly,
NED"
"Simon?"
Mattie's voice was solemn In its earn.
est tone of pleading.
Simon, you will not die without
forgiving your boy. Mary's boy, who
saved you life at the risk Of his own,
who loves you SO truly"
Simon cartwright lifted his face
from the cushions where 1t had been
hidden. Upon the wasted cheeks tears
stood like great diamonds, and the
voice was broken and hoarse that said:
Send for my boy, Mattel"
Gladly the message was written and
sent to the telegraph office.
ITO Mr.. Edward cartwright, No. 81
- street, New York. Your father
wishes to see you. Come at once. He
Is dangerously i'll.
MATTE CGIWELL."
The evening shadows were creeping
over the great room where Simon
cartwright waited for the dread sum-
mons he knew could not long be de-
layed Matte Colwell had not left him.
BY every sweet memory cherished in
her soul she had kept alive the tender,
spirit her words had already
in the fathers heart.
The agitation Of the morning had
added much to the invalid's sufferings,
and as evening came on the gentle low
ing watcher feared the son would come
too late for his fathers words Of re-
He had been doing I'M
easily, when he suddenly started
awake.
1.-THE will! Matte, we forgot the will
It is in the drawer. Burn it, Mattel
Tell Ned there y legacy for you--ten
thousand dollars! II the will stands my
boy is disinherited. Burn it, Mattel"
With trembling hands Simon Hart
wright drew from the drawer the will
hat left his son beggar, and thrust it
nto Matte Colwell's hands.
Burn 1t! Let me see it burn!" he
'aid, feverishly, and with eagerness,
md gladly Matte laid the paper upon
he burning Goals of the crate. While
hey watched it burn, there was a noise
II rapid hores' feet, roll of wheels, a
,ustle at the door and quick feet upon
he stairs.
Med! Ned!"
The voice of the sick man rang out
lear and shrill, and was answered by
loud cry.
Father, I am coming!"
Then Matte stole out of the room as
tall figure rushed in and Ned Hart
right knelt beside his fathers chair,
D feel warm tears upon his face, the
lasp Of loving arms, and hear broken G
lords of blessing and welcome. q
In the hall Matte found little fig u
re waiting in bewildered patience for U
ecome, and took upon herself the
flee of hostess to the blue-eyed wife
u whose sake Ned had dared his Z
'thers anger and imperiled his In