The Mathews journal. (Mathews C.H. [Court House]) 1903-1937, 1908-08-27
=0MYhe BabMy:O
By MRS MARY A. DENSON
By MRS. MARY A. DENISON.

lOdCned MIN. l believe [ all but
began to loathe my mother for
tempting me. What did want of
the boy? Why did l need to be for
ever reminded of my loss, which was
irreparable? So my heart in scrip
tural language waxed harder and
harder and less human.
At last a shock recalled me to nv
senses.
had been on a long journey. Ny
mail had accumulated. Among the
letters which 1 read on my return
home was one announcing my moth
theirs illness. That was dated only
few days after my departure. What
might not have happened in the
meantime? Then there came a
thought of the boy. What had be-
come of him? Suppose my mother
should die? For the first time a rill
sprans up in my heart, tiny, but OF
perhaps fatherly affection. The news
was weeks old and no letter had
come in the interim. I was actually
forced to a determination to go home
unconscious of what was to meet me.
The car wheels seemed leaden. The
beautiful prospects of my old coun-
try home were almost forbidding.
Plainly the old we'll came into sight.
then the rose gardens, then the house
In whose square outlines nothing
seemed to be missing. How brown
1T looked against the clear blue of
the sky, and there seemed to be
around it a holiday excitement. an
environment of pleasant anticipation.
Clearly nothing detrimental had hap
pened. My mother must still be liv-
ing. and my heart lightened. It's ten
sion was gone. I allowed myself to
breathe naturally. to feel the light
and color of the atmosphere, the fer
tility and beauty OF the surround
inss. OF the baby l dared not think.
Suddenly the thought impressed me
that ] had been an unnatural father.
and at that moment of light and in
spiration l saw vision.
Miriam appeared to me.
Yes, sitting at the window of the
farmhouse where | had first met her
in all the glory of her golden hair,
in the glad light of those eyes l had
worshiped. that was Miriam looking
at me, smiling at me. If there is
such thing as paresis of the heart
| was attacked with it then and Ihere.
could not breathe nor swallow, only
gasp, only look, only tremble. She
still smiled as l passed by, the never
to-be-forgotten gleam of her yellow
hair, her wonderful eyes, her sweet
face pursuing me in her smiles. She
never moved. but sat there with my
boy in her lap. and our boy re-
sembled her. What was my condition
as l stopped at the next farmhouse? ?
Clearly l was stunned. almost ami
hilated. ! could scarcely find
strength to struggle down from the
carriage. to mount the few steps to
our cottage door. All, there was my
mother, looking years younger and
brighter than / had seen her for
years, but where was the boy? NV
heart began to beat unnaturally as
asked myself the question. He had
died, perhaps, and was now with his
mother. | had seen them together.
Strange to say, the thought gave me
happiness. Miriam and her son!
Miriam and ON boy-ours, though
| had forfeited all the rights of a
father! Ours.
My mother was startled. fright
ened, though, by the expression in
her face, relieved and contented. II
was slightly pallid as though she had
been ill.
My dear boy" she cried out, then
almost tainted. 1t was in the old
parlor we met, the dear old room.
where everything reminded me of my
father. who had always been LOVING
and kind to me. Every odd figure
in the carpet was familiar. Genera
tions of old pictures preserved the
family lineaments. His sword, which
my mother had buckled on when he
went to war, stood among other rel
les, his chair was in the place where
he had last sat. Ny mother chided
me gently for leaving the city with
out informing her. then the conver.
sation ran on general topics. want.
edeto ask for my boy, but a cowardly
fe& prevented me. He was every.
wi &ere. l remember seemed to hear
b &Soice In the air. ned to ses