The Madison journal. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1888-current, 1919-10-04


they may be AmbersonS, but they're
vulgar, I'm afraid almost agree WIN !
him. AT least. think they were in /
considerable.
"We plan 10 stay six weeks if the (
place agrees with him. 1t does really F.
seem To already, He's just called IN
the door To say he's waiting. Don't !
smoke too much, darling boy.
"Devotedly, your mother.
ISABEL"
But she did not keep her husband
there for the six weeks she Anticipated.
She did not keep him anywhere That
long. Three weeks after writing this
letter, she telegraphed suddenly To
George that they were leaving Tor
home at once; and four days later
when he and friend came WhlstllhS
into his study, from lunch ut the club.
he found another telegram upon his
| desk.
He read it twice before he compre-
hended its import.
Papa left us ut ten this morning
| dearest.
MOTHER"
The friend saw the change in his
face. Not bad news?
George lifted utterly dumfounded
! eyes from the yellow paper.
MY father" he said weakly. "She
says-she says he's dead. I've got Ia
go home"
His Uncle George and the
Major met him AT the station when he
! arrived-the first time the Major had
ever come To meet his grandson. The
old gentleman sat in his closed car
riage (Which still needed painD AT the
entrance To the station. hut he got out
and advanced to grasp Georges hand
TREMENDOUSLY, when the latter appeared.
Poor fellow" he said. and patted him
repeatedly upon the shoulder. Poor
fellow Poor Georgia
George noticed that the Majors
RIGHTEOUSNESS did not disappear. as
they drove up the street. and that he
seemed much feehler than during the
summer. Principally, however, George
was concerned with his own emotion,
or rather, with his lack of emotion ;
and the anxious sympathy of his grand
: father ana his uncle made him feel
} hypocritical. He was not grief-stricR-
en-: but he felt that he ought To he.
. and. with secret shame. concealed
his callouSneSS beneath an affectatiOn
of sOemnity.
: But when he was taken into the
room where lay what was left of VIII
p bur Minafer. George had no longer tC
Y pretend; his grief was sufficient. II
! needed only the sight of that forever
inert semblance of the quiet man who
had been always 50 quiet part of his
sons Iife-so quiet part that Gcorg,
had seldom been consciously aware
n that his father was indeed part 81
- his life. As the figure lay there, it:
{ very Quictness was what was most life
z like: and suddenly it struck George
l. hard And in that unexpected, rackin;
= grief Of his son Wilbur Minafer he
l. came more wildly Georges fathe
Il than he had ever been in life.
h When George left the room, his arm
t. was about his blaCk-robGd mother, hi
W shoulders were still shaken with Sobs
T. He leaned upon his mother: she gCntl
N comforted him; and presently he re
n covered his c0mpOSure and becam
p self-cOnSciOus enough to wonder if h
Ie had not been making an unmanly dis
ID play of himself. I'm all right agar
ar mother" he said awkwardly. Don
worry about me: you'd better go Ii
down. or something; you look prett
It. pale"
III Isabel did look pretty pale, hut nc
u. CHASTITY pale, as Fanny did. Fanny
u. grief was overwhelming; she stayed i
IN her room. and George did not see he
Us until the next day, a few minutes b'
~ fore the funeral, when her haggar
to face appalled, him.
- The annoyance gave way before
1t recollection of the sweet mOurnfulne>
IN of his mothers face, as she had sal
of gOcd-by to him at the station. and {
ny how lovely she looked i'm her mOurnin
ne He thought of Lucy. whom he had see
n, only twice and he could not help fee
". ing that in these quiet interviews