The Madison journal. (Tallulah, Madison Parish, La.) 1888-current, 1921-03-19
CHAPTER vliI-Continued.

II have tried" said Harris, land it's
Bealah-quittin' work, and twilignts
and sunsets and all that kind o.
thing. There's no use talkin' with her
reason don't count for anything.
gave her good pOcketful o. money,
and told her TO write for more when
she needed it. She'll get over her no
tons pretty soon when she gets among
strangers. Go in T2d have talk with
her, boy; there's 10 use you bein' at
outs with her, tool AS for me, l can't
do anything more"
81 suppose you know best" he an
swered, 'but it seems-hang il, it's
against all reason that you two-that
this should happen"
"Of course it is. That's what / said
q minute ago. But reason don't count
just now. But you have your talk
with her, and give her any help you
can If she wants Z get away at once"
Allan found his mother i'm her room,
packing a trunk and gently weeping
into ii. He laid his hand upon her,
and presently he found her work-worn
frame resting in his strong arms.
you're not going to leave us. moth
er, are yOu?" he said. You wouldn't
do that?"
mot if II could be helped, Allan.
But there is no help. Your father has
set his heart on more land, and more
work, and giving up this home, and
might as well go first as last. More
and more he is giving his love to work
Instead of to his family. Perhaps when
i am away for a while he'll come to
himself. That's our only hope"
The boy stood helpless i'm this con-
Fiction. He knew something of the
depth of the nature of his parents and
he knew that beneath an undemonstra-
tive exterior they cherished in secret a
love propOrtiOnate to the strength of
their character. But the long course
down which they had walked together
seemed now to be separating, through
neither will nor power of their own; ii
was as though straight parallel lines
suddenly turned apart, and neither
lost its straightness In the turning.
So he comforted his mother with
such words as he could. Loyalty to
his father forbade laying any of the
blame on those shoulders, and TO
blame his mother was unthinkable; so
with unconscious wisdom he spoke not
Of blame at all.
"Of course, while we are away, why
shouldn't you have a visitT' he said.
Here you have been chained down to
this farm ever since can remember,
and before. And then, when get set
tied on my own homestead, you'll come
and keep house for me, won't your
You're sure you'll want me?" she
asked. greatly comforted by his mood.
Perhaps you'll be getting your own
housekeeper, too"
Not while l can have you" he an
swered. you'll promise, won't you?
Nothing that has happened, or can
happen, will keep you from making
my home yours. will 1t? And when
Dad gets settled again, and gets all
these worries off his mind, then
things'll be different, and you'll come,
even IL he Is there?"
yes. I'll come, even If he is there,
II you ask me-" she promised.
Harris did not come back that night.
A light rain came up, and he accepted
the excuse to sleep at Riles'. The
truth was he feared for his resolution
II II should be attacked by both his
wife and son. Surrender now would
be mere weakness, and weakness was
disgrace, and yet he feared for himself
II put to the test again. So he stayed
1t Riles', and the two farmers spent |