Smyrna times., 1900-08-08

The night was soft and clear. with
the earthly smell of early June in the
ar. The young man stepped slowly
along with his eyes on the ground. trv-
ing to reason out his situation. What
his mother said he felt to be true-be
was selfish in wanting to 90 away
But he had to live his own life, he re-
hected. Why should he be called
upon to make the sacrifice of his fond
est hopes, of his day dreams of years,
that his mother might keep him by her
side? She could have some one to
help her with the work; he could afford |
that. But he knew that his mothers |
chief objection was losing him. She |
would be lonely, pitably lonely.
How patient and unselfih she had |
been to him always. He remembered
countless little things she had done
for him, unnot1ced at the time, which
now came crowding into his memory.
He could not hope to make her under
stand what an education meant to him.
To her it was an unnecessary luxury,
something superfuous IN the life of a
man in his circumstances.
He turned into path leading up to
a white frame house. A girl was sit
ting on the steps, and he seated him
self beside her. She gave him no other
greeting than to say:
''You are late tonight"
eyes, he answered. 81 was talking
to mother after supper
1.-The same thing. She will never
give her approval to the plan. 1 think
it will break her heart if 1 go. wish
L knew what 1 ought to do"
"You wish you knew whether you
| ought to break her heart?" said the
} girl.
Don't put it that way. 1t isn't fair.
Do you think I'd be a brute to go,
3 Molly?"
'I've been thinging about it all day."
S she answered. "And you won't like
r what I'm going to say" She paused a
7 moment, as if to gain courage. think
: that it's always wrong to take what we
| want at another PERSONS expense. 1
4 can't express myself as we'll as you can,
but that is what 1 mean: If we do a
4 thing which is really bad, but which
doesn't bring suffering to any one but
z ourselves, it doesn't seem as wrong to
me as doing a thing which in itself is
good, but which does bring unhappi-
ness to somebody else. And then 1
L think the first duty of a child is to its
u parents"
VI GLOW about a parents duty to the
o child?" suggested Henry. "It isn't a
n child's fault it's here 1t seems to me
the parents ought to do what they can
is to make up for bringing us into the
world without consulting u.s."
M you're not in earnest" she re
rs proved him. 81 hadn't thought I'C
IN say this, but will" He remembered
of that his mother had used the sam,
words. "I don't know what shall d.
y Harry, when you go away. You sa!
y it will be all for the better for me il
III the end. But how do 1 know that yor
nt won't forget me in all those years
re Or, if you doubt, you will not b
er satisfied with me after you have see
ne so many other girls. I can't thin
t. you care for me so very much whe
ey you are willing to postpone our MAJ
IN riage for years. I can't bear tn
H. thought of your going. think it wi
re break my heart too," and Molly
g voice broke.
ng Henry drew her close to him and sh
nd sobbed with the utter abandonment {
self-restrained woman who finall
le' allows herself to be conquered by he
en- emotion. With his head bowed on hel
10 and his senses with the CONSCIOUSNESS
IN of the sobbing little figure in his arm
ell he relinquished all idea of fulfillin
W his desire.
ire II was late when he returned hom
ny. but he saw his mother sitting in h'
lth low chair on the small porch waitir
for him. She looked so small al
La frail and tired, that he now wondert
n.y. how he could have thought of lea
IN. ing her by herself. Caresses betwet
1t them were rare, but he kissed her,
ng he said:
LII sI've decided mother, I'm going
ne' stay.s
dy- 'You'll be a better man for 1T, g.
his answered. The long-practiced su
you preston of speech would not let b
me tell him all she felt at his words. ID
p heart cried out that he was noble a
Will very brave and that his sacrifice ga
ars new life. But her lips gave forth
'ar' sound.
up "Is it very hard to give it up?" s
AN. asked, after pause.