Sons and Fathers. Edwards Harry Stillwell

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СКАЧАТЬ Tell me what to do."

      "You must cease the use of morphine and opium."

      Gerald drew a deep breath and smiled good-naturedly.

      "Oh, that is it," he said; "some one has told you that I am a victim of morphine and opium. Well, what would you think if I should tell you he is simply mistaken?"

      His face was frank and unclouded. Edward gazed upon him, incredulous. After a moment's pause, during which Gerald enjoyed his astonishment, he continued:

      "I was once a victim; there is no doubt of that; but now I am cured. It was a frightful struggle. A man who has not experienced it or witnessed it can form no conception of what it means to break away from habitual use of opium. Some day you may need it and my experience will help you. I began by cutting my customary allowance for a day in half, and day after day, week after week, I kept cutting it in half until the time came when I could not divide it with a razor. Would you believe it, the habit was as strong in the end as the beginning? I lay awake and thought of that little speck by the hours; I tossed and cried myself to sleep over it! I slept and wept myself awake. The only remedy for this and all habits is a mental victory. I made the fight – I won!

      "I can never forget that day," and he smiled as he said it; "the day I found it impossible to divide the speck of opium; a breath would have blown it away, but I would have murdered the man who breathed upon it. I swallowed it; the touch of that atom is yet upon my tongue; I swallowed it and slept like a child; and then came the waking! For days I was a maniac – but it passed.

      "I grew into a new life – a beautiful, peaceful world. It had been around me all the time but I had forgotten how it looked; a blissful world! I was cured.

      "Years have passed since that day, and no taste of the hateful drug has ever been upon my tongue. Not for all the gold in the universe, not for any secrets of science, not for a look back into the face of my mother," he cried, hoarsely, rising to his feet; "not for a smile from heaven would I lay hands upon that fiend again!"

      He closed abruptly, his hand trembling, the perspiration beading his brow. His eyes fell and the woman Rita stood before them, a look of ineffable sadness and tenderness upon her face.

      "Will you retire now, Master Gerald?" she said, gently. Without a word he turned and left the room. She was about to follow when Edward, excited and touched by the scene he had witnessed and full of discoveries, stopped her with an imperious gesture.

      For a moment he paced the room. Rita was motionless, awaiting with evident nervousness his pleasure. He came and stood before her, and, looking her steadily in the face, said, abruptly:

      "Woman, what is the name of that young man, and what is mine?"

      She drew back quickly and her lips parted in a gasp.

      "My God!" he heard her whisper.

      "I demand an answer! You carry the secret of one of us – probably both. Which is the son of Marion Evans?"

      She sank upon her knees and hid her face in her apron.

      It was all true, then. Edward felt as though he himself would sink down beside her if the silence continued.

      "Say it," he said, hoarsely; "say it!"

      "As God is my judge," she answered, faintly, "I do not know."

      "One is?"

      "One is."

      "And the other – who is he?"

      "Mine." The answer was like a whisper from the pines wafted in through the open window. It was loud enough. Edward caught the chair for support. The world reeled about him. He suffocated.

      Rita still knelt with covered head, but her trembling form betrayed the presence of the long-restrained emotions. He walked unsteadily to the mantel, and, drawing the cover from the little picture, went to the mirror and placed it again by his face. At length he said in despair:

      "God pity me! God pity me!"

      The woman arose then and took the picture and gazed long and earnestly upon it. A sob burst from her lips. Lifting it again to the level of the man's face, she looked from one to the other.

      "Enough!" he said, reading it aright.

      Despair had settled over his own face. She handed back the little likeness, and, clasping her hands, stood in simple dignity awaiting his will. He noticed then, as he studied her countenance closely, the lines of suffering there; the infallible record that some faces carry, which, whether it stands for remorse, for patience, for pure, unbroken sorrow, is always a consecration.

      "Master, it must have come some time," she said, at length, "but I have hoped it would not be through me." Her voice was just audible.

      "Be seated," said Morgan. "If your story is true, and it may be so, you should not stand." He turned away from her and walked to the window; she was seeking for an opening to begin her story. He began for her:

      "You crouched in a church door to avoid the storm; a woman seeking shelter there appeared just outside. She was attacked by a man and fell to the ground unconscious; you carried her off in your arms; her child was born soon after, and what then?"

      Amazed she stared at him a moment in silence.

      "And mine was born! The fright, the horror, the sickness! It was a terrible dream; a terrible dream! But a month afterward, I was here alone with two babies at my breast and the mother was gone. God help me, and help her! But in that time Master John says I lost the memory of my child! Master Gerald I claimed, but his face was the face of Miss Marion, and he was white and delicate like her. And you, sir, were dark. And then I had never been a slave; John Morgan's father gave me my liberty when I was born. I lived with him until my marriage, then after my husband's death, which was just before this storm, they brought me here and I waited. She never came back. Master Gerald was sickly always and we kept him, but they sent you away. Master John thought it was best. And the years have passed quickly."

      "And General Evan – did he never know?"

      "No, sir; I would not let them take Master Gerald, because I believed he was my child; and Master John, I suppose, would not believe in you. The families are proud; we let things rest as they were, thinking Miss Marion would come back some day. But she will not come now; she will not come!"

      The miserable secret was out. After a long silence Edward lifted his head and said with deep emotion: "Then, in your opinion, I am your son?" She looked at him sadly and nodded.

      "And in the opinion of John Morgan, Gerald is the son of Marion Evans?" She bowed.

      "We have let it stand that way. But you should never have known! I do not think you were ever to have known." The painful silence that followed was broken by his question:

      "Gerald's real name?"

      "I do not know! I do not know! All that I do know I have told you!"

      "And the child's coffin?" She pressed her hand to her forehead.

      "It was a dream; I do not know!"

      He gazed upon her with profound emotion and pity.

      "You must be tired," he said, gently. "Think no more of these troubles to-night."

      She turned and went away. He followed to the head of the stairs СКАЧАТЬ