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A Rose of Yesterday

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 5756    |    Released on: 06/12/2017

the feeble light of the taper and wrote upon a sheet of paper her husband's address and one w

please, and bring me a lamp and

following it with a sort

ther," he said, and just then he saw her white f

moving stealthily, as though he were meditating some sudden surprise which never came

ave smiled at the thought, as grotesque, but it had for her the cruel vividness of a misfortune that had saddened all of her lif

ther?" asked Archie, w

elf, and smiling wearily again. "I am a lit

say, mother, let's go home! I'm tired of Europe, and I kno

oing home soon

to Carlsbad first. Wasn't i

omes dinner--we will ta

y unconscious of his own defect of mind, and was always ready to enter boldly into conversation with his neighbours at a foreign hot

w," began Archie, when he had eaten his soup in

, after dinner," a

er see us again, you know, so why shoul

shook her head gravely, which was

o-day?" she asked incautiously, by

chie, promptly. "I met

aw the look in his face a

y 'jukes' every other minute, Archie

when I say 'jukes'?" aske

ks it a very ugly a

and I don't see any harm in it. But, of course, if Sylvia doesn't like it, I've got to give it up, that's all. I'm always going to do what Sylvia likes, now, as lo

his way about Sylvia, my dear,"

ooked up with something like a glare in his eyes, and his

s, but it's stronger than I am. I don't want anything but S

nor in the little papier-maché lady and gentleman in the painted cart. But he thought she did not know about them, and he checked h

said, through his tee

n together, as they usually did, quite near to each other and side by side. She could sometimes teach him little things which he remembered, when everything was quiet. He generally began to talk of something he had seen, and she always tried to make him understand it

at becomes of all the things one forgets?

y far the most thoughtful question he had ever aske

r if I tried hard enough. Then you must believe the things are there. You woul

answered his mother,

think I don't remember to remember. Something like th

say, and things go to sleep in one's head and one has to wake them up. But I

t is. I don't want to be different from other people. Of course I know I could never be as clever as you, nor the colonel. But then you're awfully clever, both o

ur father ever called

, and her voice was low. Arc

back of the head with the knob of his stick when he said so. That was the

en' as she had written it after his name,--'Henry Harmon, New York. Forgiven.'

ver tell me?" s

e been like a cry-a-baby to go

t guess what

ain with the knob of

where for two or three days on a visit, he came at me with a poker. Th

pened?" a

sick of it all at once, you know. He ne

t the time of a sister's death. Harmon had seemed ill when she had returned, and she remembered n

you do?"

ood many times. Then I put him t

elt as though she were going mad herself. It was all horribly unnatural,--the father's cruel brutali

many times he had hit me altogether, and I gave a

e had ever professed to be sure

many times--" She spoke fai

got round again. Some had blots on several sides at last. I don't know how many there were, now; but it was all right, for I used to count them every morning and remember all day. There must have been forty or fifty, I suppose. But

are to know. There was an unnatural horror in it all, and Archie spoke of it quite simply and without any parti

her feet and knelt beside it, f

the things now," he said. "

hame rising to his forehead as he be

n't; so I may as well make a clean breast of it and tell you. Besides, you must see the blocks. All the blots are there still, quite plain, and we can count them, and then you'll always remember, tho

ting on her hand, her eyes dim, and her heart beating oddl

he bits of wood. There were about twenty of them, and she could plainly distinguish on them the little round blots which Archie had made, one for each blow he had received. He began to count, and Helen followed him

't. There were sixty-three in all, mother. Besides, I remember now. Yes; there were six

ands of his, it was a wonder that he had not killed his father. Helen sat like a stone figure, and watched him unc

use before he put them away. She watched his strong hands, that could do such childish things, and

you on the head, Archi

use over with a sweep of

rk, as I have such thick hair, so I hit him in the same place. It's all right. It was quite fair. I say, mother, I'm going to throw the

ed Helen. "Perhaps some p

that she mean

for them much. At least not so much as I did, because I was used to them. Of course that made a di

to me, for

And he began to pack

ugh the memory was weak. Still Helen watched him, without changing

eally never care for

the things lightly, arranging them a little better. Then he s

, the blocks helped me to remembe

repeated Hele

on the head. It was strange that Archie should have any wits at all, and it was no wonder that they were not like those of other men. And it had all been a secret, kept by the child first, then by the growing boy, then by the full-grown man, till his thews

ot quench. She had not known how much she was forgiving. Archie knelt beside her in wonder, for he had never seen her cry in his lif

thought you would cry about it, I'd never have told y

im

nt her arms ran round Archie's neck and drew him passionately to her breast, and she kissed his

en Henry Harmon, as well as she could, for her own wrongs; but there were others now, and they seemed worse to her than anything she had suffered. It was just

est suspicion of such a thing she would have turned upon her husband as only mothers do turn, tigresses or women. But Archie had kept his secret

est of her life. A suffering, a short, sad respite, and then suffering again; th

ned all for herself, from the first neglect to the scar on her forehead. But it was another matter to forgive for Archie

hts to be consulted. Wimpole's words came back to her, asking whether it could do Archie any good to be under the same roof

d think it very strange if he were ignorant of it. She hid from herself the underthought that Archie must surely refuse to live with

her son still knelt beside her. But without looking at him, she lai

? What is it?" he a

eyes go to his, an

his time he must have left the a

he's all right," answ

enly, for she had expe

for all he did to y

m, of course, and he hates me. It's quite fair. He thinks I'm stupid, and I think he's mean; but I don't see that there's anything to forgive him. I suppose

n nothing of the rest. He supposed, if he thought anything about it, that his mother had been unhappy because Harmon drank hard, and stayed away from home unaccountably, and often spoke roughly and rudely when he had been drinking. To his unsensitive nature and half-developed mind these things had seemed regrettable, but not so very terrible, after all. Helen had been too loyal to hold up Harmon as an example of evil to his son, a

epeated aloud, and she pr

ther?" he asked.

m, to touch his hand,--his hand that hurt you, Archie

n, and again she pressed him close

't suppose he hurt me more than I dreamed of, either. That's only a way of talking, you know. It used to make me f

e kissed his hair. "It was that--it may have

point of brea

riosity. "What do you me

and she hardly seemed to

you are," she said, and h

anged, too. "I say, mother," he went on, in another voice,

, but sure that it would have been better not

ther people that you say it's absurd of me to want to marry Sylvia Str

logical than most of his reasonings. It seemed as if his sudden passion for Sylvia had roused his sluggish i

inued. "That's what

s eyes were fixed upon his mother's face, as he knelt beside her.

sk whether I can forg

n y

N

e movement, and she watched him. Then there was

ight she had to expect that Archie should forgive his father. But, instead, she asked what right she could have had to give Archie so good a reason for hating him, when the boy had not suspected that which, after all, might not be the tr

lf, for what Archie had told her was a go

," she said mechanicall

e. "It means Sylvia to me.

ting for any answer, he w

she wrote this le

e one word for which you asked, and you have probably got the message already. But I must answer your letter as well as I can, and say a great

ses till you were taken ill, I do not think that forgiveness could be possible. You see, I am frank. I am sure that you often did not know what you said and did, and that when you did know, you could not always weigh the consequences of your words and actions. So I will try to forget them. That is what you mean by being forgiven

ent my telegram, he told me that you used to strike him cruelly and often because his dulness irritated you. Y

ou must, than for him; but in any case it is not possible, and there is only one arrangement to be made. We must put Archie in some place where he shall be safe and healthy and happy, and I will spend a part of the year with you and a part

ld be an ignoble piece of comedy on my part to pretend to be fond of you. I was once. I admired you, I suppose, and I liked you well enough to marry you, being rather ignorant of the world and of what people could feel. If you had really loved me and been kind to me,

is a promise, whatever happens, and a vow made before God is ten times a promise. So I always mean to keep min

he hope of it that makes youth lovely and marriage noble. Few people find it, and the many who do not must live as well as t

it of me, for it is not in my power. The harm was not done to me, but to him, and he is more to me than you ever were, and far more to me than myself. I will only

are sorry for that, and I say, let us try the experiment and see whether we can live together in peace for the rest of our lives. You a

ried to be clear and direct. Besides, you know me, and yo

y. I hope this may

e up to her through the open window, and she did not ring. Looking out, she saw that there were still many people in the street, for it was a warm evening. It was only a step from h

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