Part 11 (2/2)

Howland, meekly, ”and I went forth obedient thereto, to seek the straying child you had so harshly and erringly turned from your door: thus does G.o.d shut the door of Heaven against no wandering one who comes to it and knocks for entrance.”

”Esther! I will not hear such language from your lips!” There was an unsteadiness in the voice of Mr. Howland, that marked the effect his wife's unexpected and searching words had produced.

”Then do not seek to stand between me and my duty as a mother,” was her firm reply. ”Too long, already, have you placed yourself between me and this duty. But that time is past.”

As Mrs. Howland uttered these words, she pa.s.sed across the room to a window, which she threw up, and leaning her body out, looked earnestly up and down the street. For a reaction like this Mr.

Howland was not prepared. He was, in fact, utterly confounded. Had there been the smallest sign of irresolution on the part of his wife--the nearest appearance of weakness in the will so suddenly opposed to his own--he would have known what to do. But nothing of this was apparent, and he hesitated about advancing again to the contest, while there was so strong a doubt as to the issue.

For a long time Mr. Howland moved about the room, while his wife continued to sit, listening, at the window.

”Come, Esther,” said the former, at length, in a voice greatly changed from its tone when he last spoke. ”You had better retire. It is useless to remain there. Besides, you are in danger of taking cold. The air is damp and chilly.”

”You can retire--I shall sleep none, to-night,” was answered to this. And then Mrs. Howland looked again from the window.

”Where--where can he have gone?” she said aloud, though speaking to herself. ”My poor, unhappy boy!”

Mr. Howland made no answer to this. He had no satisfying intelligence to offer, nor any words of comfort that it would be of avail to speak.

Thus the greater portion of that long remembered night was pa.s.sed--Mrs. Howland sitting at the window, vainly waiting and watching for her son, and Mr. Howland walking the floor of the room, his mind given up to troubled and rebuking thoughts. In his hardness and self-will he had justified himself up to this in his course of conduct pursued toward his children; but he was in doubt now. A question as to whether he had been right or not had come into his mind, and disturbed him to the very centre.

CHAPTER VIII.

WHEN Mr. Howland threatened his son with exclusion from the house, if he were away at ten o'clock, Andrew's feelings were in a state of reaction against his father, and he said to himself, in a rebellious spirit--

”We'll see if you will.”

But after growing cooler, he came into a better state of mind; and, in view of consequences such as he knew would be visited on him, decided not to come in contact with his father in this particular--at least not for the present. If turned from his own door at midnight, where was he to find shelter? This question he could not answer to his own satisfaction.

After supper, on the evening succeeding that in which he had visited the theatre, Andrew left home and went to an engine-house in the neighborhood, where he joined about a dozen lads and young men as idle and aimless as himself. With these he spent an hour or two, entering into their vicious and debasing conversation, when a person with whom he had gone to see the play on the previous evening, proposed to him to go around to the theatre again. Andrew objected that he had no money, but the other said that he could easily procure checks, and volunteered to ask for them. Still Andrew, whose thoughts were on the pa.s.sing time, refused to go. He meant to be home before the clock struck ten.

”Come round with me, then,” urged the lad.

”What time is it?” asked Andrew.

”Only a little after nine o'clock,” was replied.

”Are you certain?”

”Oh, yes. I heard the clock strike a short time ago. It isn't more than a quarter past nine.”

”I thought it was later than that.”

”No. It's early yet; so, come along. I want to talk to you.”

Thus urged, Andrew went with the boy. The theatre was some distance away. Just as they reached it, a clock was heard to strike.

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