The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1903-07-07

our father welcomed his guest with the
same elaborate bow we once saw him
make to the president in the grounds
Of the White House. Nor could we under
stand what followed. We were summoned
in to supper. Our mother was there-a
great event In those days-and toaSts were
drunk and our father proposed one to the
generals health. This Reuben thought
was an open signal Of peace, and turned
upon me his great round eyes in surprise:
but I, who was old enough to notice that
! this toast was not responded to and that
the general did not even touch his lips
to the glass he had lifted in compliment
to our mother, who had lifted hers, felt
that there was something terrify-
ing rather than reassuring In
this attempt at good fellowship.
Tho unable to reason over it at the time
have often done SO since, and my fathers
attitude and look as he faced this strange
guest has dwelt so persistently in my
memory that scarcely a year passes with
out the scene coming up in my dreams
with Its accompanying emotions Of fear
and perplexity. For-perhaps you know
the story-that hour was the generals
last He died before leaving the house;
died in that same dark library concern
ing which you have asked many ques-
tions. .aer
:" I en1embmer the circumstances WE'LL
how well! down to each and every detail
Our mother had gone back to her room
and the general and my father who did
not linger over their wine-why should
they, when the general would not drink?
had Withdrawn to- the library at the
suggestion of the general, whose last
words are yet lingering in my ears.
{" The time has come for our little
talk said he. Your reception augurs-'
You do not look WE'LL my father here
broke in in what seemed an unnaturally
loud voice. Come and sit down
Youeammemory' ,flrnto cum 1905. N.
Here the door closed.
1--WE had hung about this door. Curl
Gus children that we We're, in hopes of
catching a glimpse Of the queer new settle
which had been put into place that day.
But we scampered away at this, and were
playing in and out of the halls when the
library door again opened and my father
| came out.
by" Where's Sambo? he cried. Tell him
to carry glass of wine to the general.
I do not like his looks. I am going
| upstairs for some medicine This he
whispered in choked tones as he set foot
on the stairs. Why I remember it I
90 not Know, for Reuben, who was stand
Ing where he could look into the library
when our father came out and saw the
settle and the general sitting at one end
of 1t, was chattering about it In my ear
at the very moment our father was CIV
ing his orders. .:.s- :..
=" Reuben is man now, and have
asked him more than once since then how
! the general looked at that critical instant.
1t is important to me, very, very i'm
portant, and to him, too now that he has
come TO know a mans passions and temp
tatlons. But he will never tell me, never
relieve my mind, and can only hope that
| there were no real signs of illness on the
generals ~ hoy r g.
all had been right and that his death was
| the natural result of the great distress of
his heart. That glimpse which Reuben
! had of him before he fell has always
struck me with strange pathos. A little
child looking in upon a man who.
| Tor all his apparent health, will
IN another. moment be in eter-
nity-I do not wonder he does not like to
talk Of it, and yet
" 1t was Sambo who came upon the
general first. Our father had not yet de-
scended. When he did, it was with loud
cries and piteous calculations. Word had
gone upstairs and surprised him in the
room with my mother. I recollect won
dering in all childish simplicity why he
Wrung his hands so over the death of a
man he so hated and feared. Nor was it
till years had passed and our mother had
been laid in the grave and the house had
settled into gloom too heavy and SOM
per Tor Reuben to endure, that I recog-
| n1zed IN my father the signs Of set
tied remorse. These I endeavored to ac-
count for by the fact that he had been
saved from what he looked upon as polit-
| lcal death by the sudden but opportune
decease of his best friend. This caused
a shock to his feelings which had un-
nerved him for life. Don't you think this
tne true explanation Of his invariably
! moody brow and the great distaste he
always showed for this same library ?
| mo he would live in no other house, he
! would not enter that room nor look at the
gloomy settle from which the general lad
fallen to his death. The place was .vir-
tualiy tabooed and tho. as the necessity
arose 1t was opened from time to time
for great festivities, the shadow it had
acquired never left it and my father hated
its very door until he died. Is it not
natural that his daughter should share
this feeling?' = .' - ~:
1T was, and said so; but would say
no more, tho she cast me little appeal
ing looks which acquired an eery sig
nlhcance from the pressure of her small
myers on my arm and the waiing sound
OF the wind which at that moment blew
down In one gust. scattering the embers
and filling the house with banshee calls
l simply kissed her and advised her to eo
back with me to England and forget this
old house and all It's miserable memories
For that was the sum Of comfort at my
poor command. When, after another
restless night, I crept down in the early
morning TO- peer into the dim and un-
used room whose story I had at last
learned I can not say but that I half
expected to- behold the meager ghost OF
the unfortunate general rise from the
cushions Of Sthe prodigious bench which
still kept it's mysterious watch over the
deserted hearthstone."
To be continued tomorrow.