Goldsboro weekly argus. [volume] (Goldsboro, N.C.) 1885-1909, 1900-11-22

christmas holidays and with the
thought Of other examinations. Up in
the attic-room the old woman KEEP her
patient watch. She was a born nurse.
She thought the Chronic would be
pleased, when he could understand, to
hear how kind everyone had been. The
principal himself had called and left a
card, o7O< which she brooded delighted
1y, and finally put away in her "kist."
The professors inquired too, and now
and then a red form would come rush.
ing upstairs, and, after a hurried tap,
enter, to gaze ON the Chronic half rue
fully, half awkward1y. They did not
quite understand the old Voman, nor
she them. She did not understand
what Chronic meant; but she knew
they looked at her son kindly. h
never dreamt but that one day he
would get better and resume work. His
low, incoherent rambling had ceased
now the fever was gone. He would lie
for hours gazing out at the skylight
window, whence he could just see some
red roofs and the tower. and hear the
college bells. Gradually the pain, the
torment, and the unrest died out of
his eyes, and peace settled there. His
mother told him how much better he
was, and that after Christmas he could
begin again, and go up in March for
the next exam. Had not Curly" the
last red-gown who had been in, said
SO?
But up under the red roof Of the
attic-room the Chronic was drifting out
with the tide. The doctor had told his
mother that afternoon. She had not
seemed to understand, and had gazed
upon him with unbelieving eyes. It
could not be. He could not die. He
was going to be a minister.
She was alone now, in the red light
of the fire, the lamp, his student-lamp.
t shaded on the table, and a pile of books
near Once or twice before this he had
asked for the books and had opened one
or two, feebly gazing in a kind of
agony on the printed pages. Then he
put them away and covered his face,
with a sob which no one heard. He
could not understand. He would never
understand in this world. But that
pain had gone, too, now.
Mother, mother, I want to speak to
| you-to tell you something"
Yes, my lad"
He spoke suddenly, in the dusk.
Zone day you asked me about hat
last exam. You asked if I passed, and
II did not speak. You thought I did
not understand you. And once when
the professor was in I heard you whis-
| per to him. He is a kind man, a very
kind man. He said I hadn't time to
read the questions. But-but it is all
OF no use, mother. I'd never have
passed. I wasn't clever enough. I feel
as if I had to tell you. I couldn't die
and go before God acting a lie. I
couldn't let you believe I could have
passed. Mother, dear, I'd never have
had a kirk of my = in this
/ world"
He was sitting up, his thin white face
turned upon her, his brilliant eyes gaz-
ing into hers. There vas a passion of
t~ruthfulness about the Chronic. He
had to tell her" as he said.
And they sat thus, looking at each
other, and the dream of her life died in
that long look.
I thought it would break my heart
When L realized it, MOTHER he whis-
pered. "The truth came over me in the
last exam. I'd toiled, and worked and
worked. I'd have gone on, if I could.
I've seen the dawn break in the east,
many and many a morning, ever my
books; but I think I was born slow and
stupid. Can you ever forgive me,
| mother?"
MY ain laddie! My ain 1addfe!"
She knew the truth. The sword had
fallen, yet she loved him still. Just
then the college clock struck ten, and
his thoughts drifted,
They are all home now for Christ
mas. The choir will be practising in
church for the service Tomorrow. I
Went there every Sunday. It's cool and
dark, with stained windows. I used to
forget the exams. and the Junior Math.
1t was the best part of the college.
red gown after"
She promised, stroking his hair. And
presently the Chronic dozed. her hand
clasplng his hin one.
She sat and faced it all, and looked
at the wreck of all her hopes. Life
seemed to sink low; faith burned cold.
She could think of nothing but her bit
ter disappointment, of Duncan drifting
away beyond all her hopes. all her
|
The clock chimed again. It was a
bright, starry night-a night of clear,
frosty sky. When she opened the win
dow the ~sea-breeze came to her, salt
and fresh-so unlike the mountain and
the moor air of her own home.
Suddenly the Chronic sat up, gazing
at her eagerly.
Mother, it is the class-bell. I must
go! Give me my books, mother"
my dear laddie-Duncan, that is no
bell"
He had sunk back on the pillow, and
she held something to his lips. Then
he remembered, and tried to speak.
ct had forgotten again. But, mother,
dear, I've been thinking-there are bet
ter things than these books. And-and
God knows best, mother"
He never spoke consciously or CO.
aerently again. In the early morning
rs the dawn, with sandals gray" was
breaking on the sky, and the great
broker towers of the cathedral could
just be seen rising gaunt beside the
sea, the Chronic answered the call of
"the silent watcher by the gate"
His mother did not know the exact
moment in which he died: but as she
1osed his eyes the college clock broke
n solemn reuerbarations above the