The representative. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1893-1901, 1899-09-28
A FAILURE

Rain was falling, ceaselessly, monoto-
nously; not brisk. pelting shower-fOr
that has some life and vigor in it-but
steady. unexciting drip, drip, drip. in which
there was neither pleasure nor = hope;
nothing but depressing repetition Of an
already wearisome theme.
Dull gray clouds overhead, sodden green
fields below, and through the dreary scene
one solitary figure, trudging on with a,
certain dull persistence that seemed as hope
less as the monotonous falling of the rain.
Now squelching in the mud, now spiashing
through a puddle, he went steadily onJlh
head bent, his hands thrust deep into his
pockets, the collar of his shabby coat turned
up in a vain attempt to keep off the all
pervading rain. He was young in years
still, though there was little of youthful
elasticity in his step, and in his heart
God knows!- no youthful hopefulness,
nothing but disappointment, and disillusfon
and logged despair.
He glanced mechanically at the familiar
country-familiar from childhood, though
now unseen for seven long years-but this
home looming left him little spirit to look
about him, and such slight changes as
there were (though he noticed them, every
one, in a dull, impersonal kind of way)
failed to interest him. To get home, to
say what he had to say, and be done with
it. that was all he could think of now. as
it was all he had lived for during many
weary week. Afterwards
But Ralph Wroughton's mind refused to
consider what would happen afterwards.
The future was a blank to him. Presently
the ground fell away before his feet, and
at the bottom of the slope he saw the old
homestead-the low, rambling house with
its latticed windows and quaint, twisted
chimneys; the old matched barn and farm
buildings, the garden and the group of
sheltering elms beyond. He drew his breath
sharply for moment and stood still, while
a thousand memories rushed over him.
less memories, that could but make the
present harder, more bitter. He moved
restlessly as though to shake them of, and
tramped on.
The tall, white hollyhocks stood,
drenched and detected, on either side of
the tagged garden path, and the constant
drip, drip of the rain sounded mournfully
in his ears as he lifted the latch.
There was murmur of voices within,
which ceased abruptly. With a sudden
gesture he flung open the door and en-
tered.
Two women stood in the low, raftered
kitchen, the red glow of the fire behind
them; old and gaunt, her lank gray
hair struggling from beneath rusty black
cap, her keen black eyes glancing with
hawk-like vigilance above a thin, hooked
nose; the other, young and comely, chestnut
haired and gray eyed, with finely moulded
figure and beautifully poised head, the SIM
plicity of the peasant in her spotless print
gown, but of peasant with the carriage
of a queen.
They looked at Ralph in silence for a
minute or more, and he looked back at them,
hoping. perhaps, that they would speak and
make his hard task somewhat easier, but
if SO he hoped in vain
"I-have come back he said at length.
II see thee hast, lad" the old woman
assented, brusquely, "but why?"
He made little deprecatory gesture and
she laughed grimly. The younger woman
said never a word.
Hast come back as poor as thee went?"
the cracked voice went on.
Poorer; I-have failed.''
81 never locked for thee to do aught else.
Well well, and after thy big words and
all! Thy schooling has not done much for
thee, beyond giving thee notions above thy
station in life and a sinful pride that would
take none of Gods good gifts without thou
couldst pay for them, and put down shill-
Ing for shilling; thou, beggared before thou
vast born; who, but for the charity of
neighbors, hadst drawn thy first breath in
the workhouse! But thou hast come back
and there's an end
can end" he echoed, YEARLY. "I was
but fool for my pains; 1 know it now"
Hear to him?" with shrill derision.
Hast learned that much, and yet canst
say thou hast come back poorer than thee
went? Nay, lad; one bit o. common sense
like that is worth all thy books and leaEp=s
ing, not to speak O. the few bits o. brass.
But there, sit down, and let me get on
with my work. have no time to waste
with thee now, for there's deal to be done
in the dairy; and Phoebe here"
She broke off, and, with a keen glance
at the silent woman beside her, ciattered
out Of the room, closing the door as she
went. -{
Her footsteps echoed noisily down the
paved passage and died away in the dis
lance There was long silence, in which
the pattering of the rain against the win
dow seemed to grow louder and full of a
strange persistence.
Since that first look on his entrance he
had not once glanced at the younger
woman, but her eyes had never left his
face. They were fixed on him now with
a curiously intent gaze that he might have
found it hard to read
"Ralph-not a word for me?'
The low, full-toned voice thrilled him
into a sudden passion of pain; he turned
to her with a gesture of utter hopeless
ness that had something of defiance in it.
Mot one-that you would care to hear.
I have failed,
."But-hast done thy best?"
my best?" he laughed; o the misery of
that laugh. "Ah, lass; l have done my
best Whatever l put my hand to fell to
pieces; whatever I undertook failed.
went and down through the states to the
gold f1elds-wherever money was to be
made or won. Other men made fortunes,
but phoebe. did my best, but to starve
and struggle is not enough, and that's
about all / am good for. If one day 1
seemed to gain step in the race for
wealth, lost it the next. 1 went under in
the crowd. I am failure"
"But-thou hast come back?" His sensi-
where perhaps none was intended.
but not to be burden on thee. LASS
he said, slipping back unconsciously into
the old familiar form of speech. II have
come back-yes, for l thought, maybe,
owed 1t to thee to own myself beaten-but
ri shall not stay-long. I am = broken
man; broken. body and mind: and have.
good hope now thatA Soon,~ very soon :" ;
What. Ralph!''