The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993, 1921-06-25


It was midafternoon when he en-
tered a small village. The changes
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 1t. 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 It's
predecessor, to the eliminating crime
which had placed him behind prison
bars.
As in q dream he turned down a
rutted side street and into the yard
of 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 housef
Only strangers were within. When
he had last gone forth 1t was with the
springy step Of recklessness. The
crime which was to 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 ne
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
money with which to hire lawyer to
defend him. Uncomplainingly 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, ana
| even small sums of money. saved al
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 a brief, almost illegibIe 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 mis-
eyes as he hesitated, staggered slight
". and then slowly retraced his steps
to the roadway. The brain. which fol
twenty long years had been dormant
while others did his thinking, couie
not seem to gather up the tatteret
ends and arrange them in sequence.
He. had eaten nothing since earl!
morning, yet he sought no food.
ListIessly, shamblingiy. he turne'
back to the main street. He went OF
past the village store and post office
under the arching elms with limb
barred by the early winter winds. ID
, could not have told where he was go
ing, or why, yet there was no hesl
. fancy in his advance until he reaches
the village cemetery. He paused onl,
+ a moment, passed through the gar
and down the winding driveway. Ill
!, | ewes. no longer downcast, were rovin
, | from headstone to headstOne. In thei
depths shone, for the first time tina
day. expression-a look OF combine
eagerness and haunting fear. Dow
one path, up another, he went, but tn
| name he looked for he did not nne
: He was certain that no stone had e'
. capped him. yet he started over again
traversing the same pathways, e.
amining the same stones.
Suddenly something seemed
break within him. The fog raised frol
his brain, and he swayed unsteadii!
Three or four stumbling steps wei
: required before he regained his pa
ance, and then came the tears, swil
and binding. A sob shook his Tram
then another, and another. A re
steps and his toe struck an aimo'
: obliterated mound. He did not see
2 to save himself, but fell at length 9
+ the dead, tufted grass.
sMother," he walled, II want YOU
t It was the call Of the child. cogn
t. xant Of its puny weakness. seeking Il
!. loving arms Which have always guar
d ed It from harm. And then the 50
o bling ceased. A strange, unknov
It peace possessed him.
le There they found him next day.
J. No one knew him; or. knowing NJ
~