Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1915-06-03
FROM A FAR COUNTRY
BY ALLAN INeLIs.

|, treSS. vi course Laura would not
have come to the prison gates. She
had pride, and, though he had been
unjustly condemned, Laura was not
going to publish her shame before the
eyes of the newspaper men.
Larrimore had done no wrong.
True, he had beggared few score of
women and trusting men who had put
their all in his wildcat scheme, but
then everybody did things like that
every day In the course of business.
The five years in the penitentiary that
he had served had been a gross injus-
tice. Larrimore felt no degradation.
He meant to repeat his trick, but
1 more craftily, in order to secure the
| funds to start things going again.
Still, he was thinking, as he sat in
the train, lot of things which dis
tressed him; and yet he could not
shake them out of his mind. He had
| gone TO the metropolis twenty years
before, gawky farmer boy, to make
| his fortune. He had become wealthy
in an incredibly short space of time,
for Larrimore was quick to adapt
himself to the dubious ways of finance.
In ten years he was married and had
a house on the avenue.
He had married the daughter of his
employer. He had not loved Laura
exactly, but she had thought he had.
After his marriage he seldom went
home. He made his old mother an
adequate allowance, but he had not
seen her for three years before he
was sentenced. With his connections
he could not afford to have it known
that his mother was an illiterate old
woman. Laura had never seen her;
Larrimore had been ashamed to let
her know.
Still there had been trying episodes,
which, as a man of the world, he had |
found difficult to explain to his wife. |
For instance, old Mrs. Larrimore's
letters. The old woman had been
growing lonely. She wanted to come |
to town and live with her son. OF |
course that was impossible, and he
had told his mother so frankly. But |
Laura had seen one Of the ill-spelled |
letters, and Larrimore had been |
ashamed.
you see, she never could learn to
spell very WELL" he explained to his
wife. 1--WE are of good family, but
mother was always the Ounce at |
school,"
The look in his wife's eyes when he |
apologized for his mother had vague
ly annoyed Larrimore.
After his conviction Laura had come
to see him regularly each three
months. Three months before his SEN
tence expired she had told him that |
she thought it would be no use their |
living together. The house had been
sold, and she was living then in a
clearinghouse. Larrimore had not |
answered her, because he meant to |
go to her as soon as he came out of |
prison and explain that he would be |
rich man again within a year, and |
that he could provide her with every |
luxury. That would alter his wife's |
decision, he knew.
Nevertheless, when he got out of |
the train he was dissatisfied with him |
self. Something of conscience had |
begun to prick the thick skin of the
man. When he called at the boarding |
house he discovered, to his dismay, |
that his wife had gone away. A letter
was handed to him, and the door
closed on him. Larrimore did not |
mind the closing of the door; he went
into the park and read the letter.
II am leaving you for ever, Henry"
his wife had written, because I can
not live with you again. For years l |
have borne your callousness, but my |
eyes have been opened. You are the
most selfish, worthless man that ever
lived. l am going to the last place |
on earth where you will think of look |
ing for me-"
The letter was signed simply |
Laura"
None of us is so bad but sooner or |
later the day comes when we see our
selves in the mirror of our souls. Lar
rimore said afterward that ii was the |
reading of this letter which shook |
down the palace Of his colossal self
conceit. He sat for hours in the
park, dazed with the hideous self-rev-
citation.
And. like the prodigal in the para
BILE. except that the more loving par
ent remained alive to- him, Larrimore
said:
Il will arise and go unto my
mother"
The following morning he took the
train out to the little village where
his mother lived. And as he dismount-
ed upon the platform a great terror
came over him that his pilgrimage
was vain, and his mother dead.
He hurried up the well-remembered
street. He reached the little cottage.
The place was occupied. He knocked.
An old woman with white hair came
10 the door and peered at him with
her dimming eyes. And Larrimore