The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1902-12-05

problems, as you call them, you would
have the money and your place In soci-
| ETY. to help you. But if you step out
side the circle in which we belong you
| will have no standing and no influence
| But 1t is not clear to me yet what your
plans are, In case you finally decide to
reject my plans for you"
! He stopped suddenly, and John Cor
don, looking eagerly and with growing
| establishment into his fathers face,
noted for the first time signs OF grow
ing age In the deep wrinkles about the
| eyes, the bent shoulders and slight
| but noticeable shaking of one hand as
| the long white fingers fumbled at the
watch chain. He had never before en-
| tertained the idea that his father was
an old man. Rufus Gordon had al
| ways been so upright of carriage, so
| firm and -.eady on his feet, so decided
| In h's movements. that none Of his &C.
onaintances had yet thought of age IN
their thought of him. What he now
saw had something to do with the
manner in which John Gordon an
sweved his fathers question
"My plans, father? have none
that is, none that you would call by
that name. Perhaps as far as l have
gone my plans are summed up in my
love for the people"
Love for the people" Rufus Cor
don repeated the words and took step
toward his son. you love the people,
then, more than your old father! For
| tie people you would do what you
would not do for me! And who are the
people? Masses of the envious, the des-
perate, the thriftless, the Irresponsible
| Are we to blame for their condition?
You talk of social wrongs. But who
makes them possible but the people
! themselves
John listened in astonishment. In all
their conversation his father had never
before spoken so. There was strain
almost of mildness in his manner.
"John," he continued with soften
ing of accent and manner that deep
ened the sons establishment, you can
not do anything | said | did not un-
derstand you or your motives. | know
| enough, however. to know that if you
| go out into the world to do the things
Of which you dream, you will misera-
| bly, fail and the result will be pain
| and disgrace for me- for us all. love
you, John Perhaps you have not
known this. But
| Rufus Gordon turned and walked
back to the place where he had been
| sitting by the table. When he lifted
! his face again toward John Gordon, it
! was the same cold. proud, hard face
with which he had listened to his sons
| Indictment of his own and his fathers
social selfshness.
John Gordon was so confused by this
scene and his fathers manner that he
stood irresolutely silent by the win
dow. The whole incident seemed fan
tastically unreal, it was so unlike any
thing his father had ever done before.
He had just turned from the window
to speak when voice in the next
| room began to sing:
1.-THE sadness that grows with the years
| Is a sadness that will not depart;
1t is close to the fountain of tears,
For 1t lies at the depth of the heart"
The singer appeared at the doorway
and called out in clear but somewhat
hard tone:
"John, will you go with me this
evening? Mr.. Penwell sends word tina:
he cannot go owing to sudden sum
mons out of town.
"What is it, MaryT John Gordon
spoke affectionately.
"Ravoll In The Edge Of the Sword
John Gordon looked grave, and bis
sister swiftly noted his hesitation.
whats the matter with you, John
Since you returned from aDroau you
act so queer. Don't you want to &C
with me? Ravoll is perfectly splendid
In the part"
''The play is John Gordon hest.
tated to characterize it. In reality il
| was rotten in its whole ethical purpose
and teaching.
! Everybody goes" Mary exclaimed
petulantly. "Of course, if you won't
go with me- it will spoil my evening. l
had been expecting it So"
Rufus Gordon spoke.
'I'll go with you. Mary. if you want
| me to-"
ooh, will you? That's a good father.
She turned toward him, but looked over
her shoulder at her brother with a ges-
ture of rejection.
John Gordon looked at the two in
silence that registered in his mind what
had practically become the most pain
! full experience of his whole life, the
growing knowledge of his estrange-
| ment from all his home loves But I
have chosen" he kept saying to him.
self. II have chosen. cannot go
back now" The trifing incident of
| the theater and his sisters misunder-
standing of his attitude toward it was
only single illustration out of a hun
dred other things that made the whole
| social career unbearable to him. The
fact that this particular play was dis
tnguished by the acting of the most
brilliant actor of the age did not re-
lieve the play itself of the condemna.
ton that rested upon it for being too
impure and suggestive for any self re-
| spectlng man or woman to behold its
movement on the stage. Yet the wealth
| and fashion and culture of the city APP
| plauded the acting and praised the ac-
! tor. The press contained columns Of
commentator for the scenery, the cos
tunes. the spirited presentation from
an artistic and dramatic point of view
and a. mild sentence or two of rebuke
Tor the character of the play itself.
What more could one ask by way of
ailurement to go and see and hear
something which was n littla donhtfnl