FullReads

The woman had grown paler and paler as she listened to these words which the old man poured out in eager haste, like one whose thoughts and feelings long pent within himself for want of a listener now rushed forth pell-mell into speech.

“He does not know me,” she whispered–“he does not know me. Well, I will not undeceive him now. He is happy in this delusion,–let him keep it for the present.” Then, aloud, she said:

“You are hungry, father? do you not have food enough here?”

“Oh, I have my share, Abby; I have my share. But my appetite’s varying, and sometimes when they bring it I can’t eat it, and then when I want it most I can’t get it. I’m one of many here, and I’ve been so lonesome, Abby. But then I knew you’d come for me all in good time. And, Ben–how is Ben, Abby? does he want to see his old father again? Ah, Ben was a nice little boy–a nice little boy. But ‘Liz’beth wan’t no kind of a mother for such a high-strung lad. And then he hadn’t oughter married that sickly sort of girl that ran off an’ left him. Sakes alive! what a temper she had! It sort of broke Ben down living with her as long as he did. But he remembers his old father at last, don’t he? And he wants to have me home to die. Ah, Ben has a good heart after all!”

“I must not tell him; I must not,” whispered the woman as she listened. “Bitter to me as his deception is, I must let him remain in it.” Then with a sudden bracing of the nerves, and a visible effort, she said:

“Ben is away from home now, father. He will not be there to meet you, but you’ll not mind that: I shall make you so comfortable; I want you at home during the holidays.”

So he went out from the horror and loneliness and gloom of the Poor House, to the comfortable home which Edith had provided for herself and child in the years since she left Ben. Eva was a precocious little maiden of nine now, wise and womanly beyond her years. So soon as Edith learned of the old man’s desolate fate, she resolved to bring him home. Eva could attend to his wants during the day, while she was in the school-room, and the interrupted studies could be pursued in the evening. Or she could hire assistance if he were as troublesome as report had said. He had been a harsh old man, and had helped to widen the breach between her and Ben. But he was the father of the man she had married, and she could not let him die in the Poor House. So she brought him home.

“Don’t I hear a child’s voice?” he asked, as Eva came dancing out to greet them. “Who is it, Abby?”

“Why, it’s your own little granddaughter Eva,” cried the child, clasping his withered hand in her two soft palms. “Don’t you remember me? Mamma says you used to love me.”

Edith’s heart stood still. Surely now he would understand. And would he be angry and harsh with her?

The old man’s face lighted.

“Ah, I see, I see,” he said musingly, “Abby and Ben have taken the little one home. It must be Edith is dead. She was such a puny thing.” Then turning his face to the woman who was guiding his faltering footsteps, he asked:

“And is Edith dead?”

“Yes,” she answered quietly, “Edith is dead.” And added “to you,” in a whisper.

“He must never be undeceived,” she thought. “It would be too severe a blow; the truth might kill him.” And to Eva she said a little later:

“Dear, your grandfather is very ill, and not quite right in his mind. He thinks my name is Abby, and you must not correct him or dispute any strange thing he may say.”