Part 21 (1/2)

Fred reached over and took the clammy hand in his own.

”I have--had--a pore life,” the now fast weakening man went on; ”an' I have--done wrong--by--you, but I--have--repented. Will you forgive me?”

Something came up into Brent's heart and burned there like a flame.

”You have ruined my life,” he answered, ”and left me a heritage of shame and evil.”

”I know it--G.o.d help me--I know it; but won't--you--forgive me, my son?

I--want to--call you--that--just once.” He pressed his hand closer.

Could he forgive him? Could he forget all that he had suffered and would yet suffer on this man's account? Then the words and the manner of old Eliphalet came to him, and he said, in a softened voice, ”I forgive you, father.” He hesitated long over the name.

”Thank G.o.d for--for--the name--an'--forgiveness.” He carried his son's hand to his lips, ”I sha' n't be--alive--long--now,--an' my--death--will set--people--to talkin'. They will--bring--up the--past. I--don't want you--to--stay an' have--to bear--it. I don't want to--bring any more on--you than I have--already. Go--away, as--soon as I am dead.”

”I cannot leave my friends to bear my burdens.”

”They will not speak--of them--as they--will speak of--you, my--poor--boy. You--are--old--Tom Brent's--son. I--wish I could take--my name--an' all--it means--along--with--me.

But--promise--me--you--will--go. Promise--”

”I will go if you so wish it.”

”Thank--you. An'--now--good-bye. I--can't talk--any--more. I don't dare--to advise--you--after--all--you--know--of me; but do--right--do right.”

The hand relaxed and the eyelids closed. Brent thought that he was dead, and prompted by some impulse, bent down and kissed his father's brow,--his father, after all. A smile flitted over the pale face, but the eyes did not open. But he did not die then. Fred called Mrs. Hodges and left her with his father while he sat with Eliphalet. It was not until the next morning, when the air was full of sunlight, the song of birds, and the chime of church bells, that old Tom Brent's weary spirit pa.s.sed out on its search for G.o.d. He had not spoken after his talk with his son.

There were heavy hearts about his bed, but there were no tears, no sorrow for his death,--only regret for the manner of his life.

Mrs. Hodges and Eliphalet agreed that the dead man had been right in wis.h.i.+ng his son to go away, and, after doing what he could to lighten their load, he again stood on the threshold, leaving his old sad home.

Mrs. Hodges bade him good-bye at the door, and went back. She was too bowed to seem hard any more, or even to pretend it. But Eliphalet followed him to the gate. The two stood holding each other's hands and gazing into each other's eyes.

”I know you 're a-goin' to do right without me a-tellin' you to,” said the old man, chokingly. ”That 's all I want of you. Even ef you don't preach, you kin live an' work fur Him.”

”I shall do all the good I can, Uncle 'Liph, but I shall do it in the name of poor humanity until I come nearer to Him. I am dazed and confused now, and want the truth.”

”Go on, my boy; you 're safe. You 've got the truth now, only you don't know it; fur they 's One that says, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, ye have done it unto me.'”

Another hearty hand-shake, and the young man was gone.

As Fred went down the street, some one accosted him and said, ”I hear yore father 's home.”

”Yes, he 's home,” said Fred.

Tom Brent was buried on Tuesday morning. The Rev. Mr. Simpson, who, in spite of his age, had been prevailed upon to resume charge of his church, preached the sermon. He spoke feelingly of the ”dear departed brother, who, though late, had found acceptance with the Lord,” and he ended with a prayer--which was a shot--for the ”departed's misguided son, who had rejected his Master's call and was now wandering over the earth in rebellion and sin.” It was well that he did not see the face of Eliphalet Hodges then.

Dan'l Hastings nodded over the sermon. In the back part of the church, Mrs. Martin and Mrs. Smith whispered together and gaped at the two old mourners, and wondered where the boy was. They had ”heerd he was in town.”

Bill Tompkins brought Elizabeth to the funeral.