The Concordia sentinel. (Vidalia, Concordia Parish, La.) 1882-current, 1921-06-04

| which twenty years had wrought in
the thickly settled places through
which he passed made them unfamil-
lar, but here everything appeared as
| he remembered it. This had been his
birthplace-his home until the wilder
| ness within his soul, stirred to fury
by evil associates. had led him through
| escapades. each more serious than its
predecessor, to the eliminating crime
which had placed him behind prison
bars.
AS in a dream he turned down a
rutted side street and into the yard
of a. small, old-fashioned house. Half
way up the grass-grown path he
stopped with a sharp intake Of breath.
Why should he go to this house?
Only strangers were within. When
he had last gone forth 1t was with the
springy step Of recklessness. The
crime which was be his undoing
had been formulated and every little
detail carefully planned.
His mother with that intuition
which shields flesh and blood from i'm
pending danger, had seemed TO read
his secret. for she had placed her
hand lovingly upon his shoulder as he
was eating his supper and had trem-
blingly besOught him to stay at home.
And he-what had been his answer?
He had shaken her hand Off roughly,
had cursed her and abruptly left the
table, Kicking over a chair by way Of
emphasis.
That was the last time he had seen
her at home. During his detention.
awaiting trial, she had come to him.
He had been glad to see her for one
reason only, and that was to get
defend him. OVERWHELMINGLY she had
mortgaged the house, giving every
penny that she might have him back.
She knew his wildness. In her poor,
sinking heart she feared the truth Of
the accusations against him; and yet.
worthless outlaw though he might be,
he was her boy.
Later, when he had begun his long
term of Imprisonment, she had again
come TO him, bringing such delicaCies
as the prison rules would permit, and
even small sums of money, saved at
the price of the starvation of her
emaciated little body.
His selfish, Stunted brain did not
tell him that she had aged with cruel
rapidity since his disgrace. Even
when she failed to appear on the regu-
lar monthly visitation day, and sent
instead q brief, almost illegible note
of cheer, every word of which had
taken a drop of blood from her weak
heart, he had mentally resented her
neglect, and had written her a harsh
letter of upbraiding.
And then they had told him that she
was dead. His logged stolidness kept
back the tears, and his thoughts
dwelt more bitterly upon the cessation
of his creature comforts than upon the
truth that he had killed her by his
viciousness.
Even now no moisture came to his
eyes as he hesitated. staggered slight
ly, and then slowly retraced his steps
to the roadway. The brain, which for
twenty long years had been dormant
while others did his thinking, could
not seem to gather up the tattered
ends and arrange them in sequence.
He had eaten nothing since early
morning. yet he sought no food.
Listlessly. shamblingly, he turned
back to the main street. He went on
past the village store and post Office,
under the arching elms with limbs
barred by the early winter winds. He
could not have told where he was go
ing, or why, yet there was no hest
fancy in his advance until he reached
the village cemetery. He paused only
a moment, passed through the gate
and down the winding driveway. Els
eyes, no longer downcast. were rowing
from headstOne to headstone. In their
depths shOne, for the first time that
day, expression-a look of combined
eagerness and haunting fear. Down
one path, up another, he went, but the
name he looked for he did not find.
He was certain that no stone had es-
capped him, yet he started over again,
traversing the same pathways, ex-
amining the same stones.
Suddenly something seemed to
break within him. The fog raised from
his brain, and he swayed unsteadily.
Three or four stumbling steps were
required before he regained his bal
ance, and then came the tears, swift
and binding. A sob shook his frame,
then another, and another. A few
steps and his toe struck an almost
obliterated mound. He did not seek
to save himself, but fell at length on
the dead. tufted grass.
Mother" he walled, II want you"
1t was the call of the child, cogni-
zant Of its puny weakness, seeking the
loving arms Which have always guard
ed It from harm. And then the sob
bling ceased. A strange. unknown
peace possessed him.
There they found him next day.
No one knew him; or, knowing him
in other days, no one connected the
body of that gr6y-haired, seamed-faced
old man with the fiery, daredevil
youth of twenty years ago. So the
town furnished the cheap, pine scOf1n
in which they placed him, and he was
lowered without ceremony or song into