The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1909-04-01

I pies hlS joan WIN your SnllllUE
boughted gun ana buns and Up
and buns for jackey and marjorie
/ have broken the gun good-by mother
your little son Dicl.- these crosses
are kisses for you p. s. have been
a good boy to-day eliza says.
He remembered the occasions now.
His mother had taken Joan to Scot.
land, leaving him and Jack and Mar
jorie in charge o. Eliza, their old
nurse. His father--his own father
was in India then.
| Richard Tempest reached out for
another letter and read it, and an.
other, and yet another Something
impelled him thereto. Some were
from himself, some from his brothers
and sisters, and these often contained
references to him.
For the moment Richard was Dicky
once more-living in that joyous past
! when he was a child Every little
sentence recalled some memory which
was at once sweet and bitter-which
| soothed him, and which burned him
like hot irons.
| iSAChy 'bOOSpA plum jam lIib WYNN,
we wish he wouldn't, we don't like
| it. Please may we have another pot,
| mother?"
He remembered that choice quite
well. That was one of his mothers
rules. Each child in turn might
! choose the jam for the coming week.
| Something semen to grip him by
| the throat. He felt suffocated, chok-
| ed; he must stop the perusal of those
letters. They were torturing him,
! burning him. He must stop-one.
| One more-one.
Il have spent all my money, moth
er, but don't think me xtravagant
cause | pade the man whot took your
box this was a kindness from me
| mother so don't send me bak it."
Another savage fit of passion swept
over him.
Hateful bog!" he cried wildly, and,
leaping to his feet, he snatched the
contents haphazard with both hands
and thrust them on the fire. There
was nothing left now; the box was
empty. But, yes! There was one
letter in a huge round fist from Joan
to him.
Joan's sprawling hand occupied
three sides of the sheet; on the fourth
were some lines in another hand
his mothers.
He read the words half aloud,
--oarsely, tremulously, with every
nerve and emotion in his frame tense
to breaking point. A kind Of laugh
escaped him-tender. broken laughter,
at his mothers little idiosyncrasies-
then he sobbed aloud.
Il am vexed. Dicky, dear" the note
ran, "to see that you are not writing
on lines. left lot Of paper, ready
ruled for you, you know. and you
must use it, for you are running your
hand. Also, dear Dicky. you tell me
you have been bathing a lot with the
Vanes. You must never go into the
water until two hours after a meal,
at least, because 1t Is very dangerous
Thank you SO very much for the rose
You mustn't spend your pennies on
me! 1t is such pretty one. Mother
will always keep it. Don't forget to
write on my lines"
Richard Tempest leaned over the
box, the letter pressed to his lips and
his face buried in his hands.
Mother! Mother II l had only
always kept on your lines" he groan-
ed. Mother, / would to Heaven |
had died when l was your little
Dicky."
He rose to his feet and staggered
| to where the revolver lay on the
mantelshelf. But the man who stretch
ed out his hand for the weapon was
different being to the man who had
laid it there an hour before.
Il must" Richard cried. 81 must.
can't go on. / can't go on any long.
err"
"And is this your sorrow?" whis
pered Dicky. rs this your love? This
your repentance? There was that Of
! fer from your uncle to assist you to
emigrate and to start fresh in new
land. Can you say there is no other
| course open to you?"
The voice stayed him. 1t would be
hard, cruelty hard, to start afresh,
burdened as he was by the past, but
at that moment it was as II his moth.
er stood in the room by his side;
could he do this thing in her pres.
| ence?
He drew his hand slowly from the
weapon. Again he pressed the letter
to his lips then he slipped it tenderly
into his breast pocket.
with this tc help me-" he said
simply.
A fitting moment surely to ring the
curtain down.