El Paso daily herald. (El Paso, Tex.) 1881-1901, 1899-04-01

SOU enough 10 SIVo q SOU 20 uIS B9u~
tleman son. He was Roman"
He went down to the parlor; that
parlor that interested him so much
when anything interested him. He
looked at the clock. It was only II,
and the good man impatiently thought
of how he would have to wait until
noon for his breakfast.
Then Mother Bourgeui1 came back
from mass, carrying a great bunch of
lockwood, which she laid down on the
table, and whose fresh, strong odor
filed the room.
Father Bourgeuil was no poet;
neither did he have sensitive nature;
but he had sensations, like all mortals,
and with him as with others these
sensations awoke remembrances.
AS the old lady separated the
branches to decorate the room the
pungent odor disturb the old mans
mind. He recalled an Easter morning
long, long ago-when he was still an
apprentice, and when his wife went
out to sew. It was their honeymoon
for they had been married just before
Lent. AS to-day, she had brought from
church some sprigs of lockwood and
had hung them around their poor lit
tie room. How pretty she was, and
how he loved her! Then in a moment
his memory ran over their long years
of welded life, during which she had
been SO industrious, so economical and
so devoted. And it was this woman
whom he was making suffer because
of their unworthy son. But was he
really so unworthy? OF course one
should honor ones father and ones
mother. Still, perhaps there are ex-
cuses for faults Of youth.
Just as he had reached this point in
his sad reflections the old lady took a
bunch Of the lockwood and hung it
over the photograph of their Edward,
taken when he was a collegian, at the
time he had won all the prizes.
The old mason hardly knew where
he was Tor a moment, so strong was
the flood of memory. His head swan;
the odor of the lockwood intoxicated
him; but it was with pity and gener-
osity. He went up to his wife, took
her hands, and, after a glance at the
picture, he said:
Shall we forgive him, Clemence?"
An! her cry of joy pierced his heart!
And her husband had called her Glenn
ence, as in the days Of her youth. It
had been more than fifteen years since
he had given her that name. She un-
derstood that he loved her still.
She Rugged him and kissed him
many, many times. Then, taking his
head in her hands, she whisnered
something in his ear. She could keen
the secret no longer. The Sunday be-
fore she had gone to see her son. He
was so penitent for having offended
them, but he would have asked for
pardon many times had be dared.
And you know" she added in a
loving voice, you know, 1 saw his
wife. You could not have asked for a
sweeter one, I assure you. So dainty
and pretty? She adores our Edward:
one could see that at once She keeps
her poor little home as neat as wax.
Her past? Yes, 1 know. But, since
Edward loves her-and then, in our
humble sphere one is not SO severe.
And besides. father, in short time we
shall be grandparents"
Father Bourgeuil tremblingly said:
Enough, mother. Have the table
aid for four and send for a carriaso
Wait; take one of the branches az a
oxen of peace-and bring them back
with you
While the mother. overcome with
happiness, wept on her husbands
breast. he-where now was ancient
3rutus, the Roman? -broke down
md sobbed like the weakest of women