Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 103, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 April 1911 — How He Came Home [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

How He Came Home

The Beginning and the End of His Sin

By CLARISSA MACKIE

The street lay in shadow, for heavy clouds obscured the young moon. A clock in the distance struck # 2, and down at the corner, where a broad avenue intersected the quiet street, a policeman swung on his heels and vanished down the lighted way. Out of the darkness of the street there was evolved the shadow of a man that became substance when he had slipped into a dark areaway, skillfully forced the door and entered a little ball. He locked the door behind him and turned on the f tiniest glimmer of light from his pocket lamp. With a nod of satisfaction be found the stairs that led up to the first floor. He slipped a black mask over his face and mounted the steps. Under As feet ran the soft, thick carpet of a long hall. He- knew this type of house--there should be a door front and back leading to the street anl yard respectively—and calculated his getaways. The narrow beam of his lamp found the door of the dining room, and be entered, closing it noiselessly behind him. The sideboard showed an array of rather old fashioned silver. He looked at it critically, weighing some of the pieces in his hand, all the time conscious that there was a certain familiarity in their outlines. Their recognition came as a blow in the face. ■' This was his mother s silver! What was it doing here? What had he done? The stairs creaked ominously, and he shut off the light and slipped into the hall that he might be close to the rear door. He could hear the soft rustle of a woman’s gown and the light tread of

slippered feet on the stairs. Then came her voice, anxiously low: “Raymond!" she called softly. That was his name, but he did not answer. Instead he seemed to shrink against the wall, and his hands covered his masked face. “Raymond—ah, I thought perhaps it was Raymond. James said he would come back some day.” shesighed and then uttered a slight exclamation of pain. There came a muffled, stumbling sound. “Oh. dear! My ankle again!" Then silence. The man swept the mask from his face and crammed it in his pocket He tiptoed down the length of the hall to the stairs, where a white object blurred against the darkness. He understood the situation at once. His mother had a weak ankle. She had sprained it once more and fainted from the pain. With trembling arms he groped for and found her slender form and lifted her gently. Her soft hair brushed his cheek, and he gnawed’ his lips to still their quivering. Slowly he mounted the stairs with his burden and carried her into a front room where a night lamp burned dimly. < He could see that the last three years had aged her pitifully. Her face- was worn into thin lines and deprived of its pretty color. Her gray hair lay in a heavy braid over her shoulder, and his lips touched it as he bent above her.' Then her eyes opened wider-and with unutterable joy in their depths. “Raymond! It was you after all! You have come back!” she cried. “My son! My son!" _ . - He knelt beside the bed and submitted his face to her tender scrutiny. She kissed him dnd crooned over him as if he was the baby she had worshiped. The three years since his disappearance from home had left their mark upon his countenance, and she tried to kiss the alien marks away. “Your father will be so happy! He has always said you would come back,” she whispered “Where is dad?” be asked huskily.

“He went to Albany this mornlrg. He said be might return very late, so I did not sit up for him. It must be nearly morning. I don’t believe be is i qbaiing. Tell me about yourself, dea r. Why did you go? Your father did not mean to be sv harsh with you. He v.otiid have forgiven you.. Raymond.” The young man told her in broken sentences of his angry flight from home after the quarrel with his father. of his journey to the Yukon Country. his unsuccessful search for gold, the long winters, the return by various stages. Now be was here. He skipped all the period that had elapsed since his return to New York; hew he had drifted around the great city Confident that his parents were still living in the suburban town where he had been born He did not tell her that ilttle by little he had slipped on the downward path until his sense of honesty had been blunted so that at last he could enter the bouse of a stranger and steal his valuables. This was his first attempt—and he had entered the house of his own father!

She did not hear any of this as he stepped to and fro. deftly bandaging her swollen ankle, covering her with the silken quilt, administering a few drops of her favorite cordial as he bad been wont to do when be was at home. At last he was sitting beside her once more. The gray dawn was sifting through the windows and showed bis face softened and glowing. “When did you leave Springside?" he asked at last. “A year ago. Your father felt that he would be nearer his business—and it was dull in Springside." Raymond understood. They had come to New York, for there was a greater chance of seeing him if he should be there in that maelstrom of waifs and Strays from the world. He asked after one and another of bld friends. At last he spoke hesitatingly. “Elsie Dearborn—what has become of her. mother?” Her hand pressed his. "Just the same as ever. She has been like a dear daughter to us. Why. Raymond, she is in the bouse this very moment. I forgot.” She sat up in sudden excitement. “Elsie here—in this house? I must go away, mother.” he said, in a panic. “No. no! You will stay. You must stay till your father returns. I thought you bad come home for good,” she wailed

“1 have. I have—if dad will let me—after he has heard my story. But I can’t see Elsie—not yet. Don’t ask me to.” He hid his face in her breast, and she soothed him gently. “Hark! I believe I hear your father's step. Stay and meet him here.” she pleaded. “I cannot, mother, dear. I must tell him something first, and then if he wants me to stay I will never leave you again. 1 shall come back before I leave the house, don’t fear. I’ll go down now and get it over.” He laid her gently down on the pillows and. slipping from the room, closed the door softly behind him. He blinked in the red light that suddenly flooded the upper ball, and then he stood stunned and silent before a small slim girl clad in dressing gown and slippers. “Elsie!" he said after a long silence, during which her beautiful gray eyes had never left his face. “Raymond, it is you!” she whispered. “Why, 1 thought it was your ghost—l I have looked for you so long." Her voice quavered into silence, and she dropped her lips against her clasped hands.

He started down the stairs, his head bent dejectedly. “Raymond!” the girl breathed ly“Yes?” He turned toward her. “Can’t I go down with you—stand beside you when you tell him—shoulder to shoulder, the wgy we used to play when he were children?” “Don’t! You cannot understand. You wouldn't have anything to do with me,” he groaned. “Is it so bad as that?” she asked in an awed tone. “Yes.” “Then you need me all the more,” she said quickly, and then she was close behind him as he made his slow progress down the long hall to the library door, where a long finger of light shot through the crack in the doorway. The elderly white haired man standing by the table looked up as the door pushed open. His dim eyes brightened, apd he raised a hand to his heart. “Raymond, my son!” he said, holding out his arms. But the young man bung back. “Not yet, dad—not until 1 have told you something.” He looked pleadingly at the girl, but she shook her head. “I ought to know, too. Judge Ely,” she said, with quiet dignity. The judge nodded his head. “Tell us, Raymond, and be done with it 1 want to embrace my son,” His voice broke. Raymond’s head lowered, and his face reddened to scarlet. “It is soon told,” he said despondently. “I’ve gone from bad to worse, and I didn’t know this was your house—and I came here this morning—look!” He drew from-his pocket the black mask and the electric lamp and laid them on the table. “Mother heard me and came down. She sprained her ankle, and I carried her upstairs, and she recognized me; 1 will go away. Perhaps I can come back when I have dona better.” He turned toward the door. Elsie was crying softly against his shoulder. His father’s arms closed about them both. From above stairs he heard the loving voice of his mother qalling to him. After that moment no one could shake Raymond Ely's belief in God’s unutterable love. “Think of how I entered your house, father!” he protested. "The only thing that matters is that you came. How you came does not count,** said his father joyfully.

LIFTED HER GENTLY.