THE CONVICT'S RETURN.
Old Mr. Thrasher and his wife sat together that night in the very room
in which they had been blessed by the first return of their son. He had
been away weary, weary years now, and not a word of tidings had ever
reached them. But the old hope was there. The faith which nothing but a
certainty of his death could destroy. There they sat, as on that night,
waiting for him, not with absolute hope, but from that tender unbelief
which will not give up a loved one.
This evening they were not alone. An old woman, very thin and withered,
but with a certain hard stateliness hanging around her, sat near the
hearth. A hood and shawl, lying on the table near the door, proved that
she had only come in for a brief visit. There was not much conversation
among them. Mrs. Allen had just received a letter from her son, who had
shipped in the India trade from Liverpool, and had not been home for
years. Now he was on a return voyage, and having saved money enough, was
resolved to leave the sea and take to farming with his mother.
It was a kind letter, and spoke most affectionately of the young sister
who was, as he thought, pining to death in the prison mines at Simsbury.
The old man put on his spectacles and read the letter aloud. Mrs. Allen
listened with interest, as if she had not already got the contents by
heart. Old Mrs. Thrasher stopped short in her knitting, and sighed
heavily. What a comfort it was to get a letter from one's son! Would she
ever see another from Nelson? Just then the sound of wagon wheels coming
over the hill reached them. He stopped reading and listened; why, no one
could tell, for wagons passed that road every half hour in the
twenty-four. As the wagon approached, these three old people looked at
each other with vague bewilderment, and listened like persons in
expectation. It stopped before the house. The gate opened. Mrs. Thrasher
leaned forward, listening. "It is his step!"
That good woman had said exactly these same words years before, when
some brown threads darkened her hair, which was white as snow now.
The old man now arose, so did Mrs. Allen, for she heard a step beyond
that which sounded on the gravel walk--something so light that it could
have reached no intelligence save the ever-watchful love of a mother.
They all stood and listened--no one of them had strength enough to
move. The door was opened--those steps advanced up the entry way, and
paused there. Then a hand, which shook the latch it touched, opened the
door, and the old people saw their son, and behind him, the sweet, pale
face of Katharine, his wife. The lamp light lay full upon them, but the
old people were blinded by a sweet rush of love that made their hearts
swell again, and could not see distinctly. The old man went forward.
"My son, my son!"
They were strong men, this father and son, but they fell into each
other's arms and wept like children.
Then the old man gave way to his wife, and taking Katharine from her
mother's bosom, laid both hands on her head and blessed her.
After the first outgush of welcome, Nelson Thrasher turned to his wife.
"Father," he said, "it is this woman, my wife, whom you must thank--she
who suffered innocently, that I might be given back to my home. It was
for your son she waited after they had set her free, for I have been her
fellow-prisoner. Oh, father! I have sinned against Heaven, and in thy
sight, and am no longer worthy to be called thy son."
Tears were raining down the old man's face--his arms were extended, and
he cried out:
"Oh, my son, my son! what is thy innocence or guilt to us, when God has
forgiven?" Again the old man fell upon his son's bosom and wept.
When Katharine's head was uncovered, and the old people had wiped away
their tears, the change which had taken place in that young couple
struck them with fresh thrills of tenderness. Thrasher's hair was
threaded with silver, and the face it shadowed bore proofs of suffering
which no after time could efface, but the serene strength which sprang
out of his new life, gave something of grandeur to his features. There
was no look of concealment in it now, but he met his father's eyes with
the open frankness of boyhood.
The dear old lady could not be satisfied with one embrace, but hovered
around her son in a birdlike flutter, smoothed his hair with her plump
little palm, and laid her cheek lovingly against it, whispering, "My
poor boy, my poor dear boy."
Katharine had been whispering to her mother; her face became anxious;
she was evidently pleading for something. At last the stiff old woman
arose, and going up to Thrasher laid one hand on his shoulder.
"Nelson Thrasher, I know the wrong you have done my daughter. My son
told me all before he went his voyage to the Indies. He charged me to
keep it secret, and I have. She begs me to pardon it, and I will. Nelson
Thrasher, I forgive you, as I pray God to forgive my own sins."
Thrasher bowed his head; the solemnity of the old woman went to his
soul. After a moment his face was slowly lifted, and his eyes looked
into hers.
"I thank you," he said, gently. "Katharine, tell her that she can trust
you with me now."
Katharine came to his side, smiling.
"Yes, mother; for he loves me; and I, oh, you know how it was always
with me."
"And now you will live with us," said Mrs. Thrasher, hovering around her
son, troubled in her heart that any one should claim a word or look.
"Yes, mother, we have come to the homestead to end our days. Here, among
our old neighbors, we will redeem the good name which has been forfeited
by your son, and innocently lost by this dear girl. Where else can we
turn? Let our neighbors know all; we will have nothing to do with
concealments, but meet their kindness or condemnation fairly. In time
they will learn to like us again--for her sake I hope it, and will toil
for it."
"We will always stand by our children; wont we Mrs. Allen?"
It was the soft, cooing voice of Mrs. Thrasher which uttered these
words. "The neighbors like us, and wont be harsh with them. If they
should, you know we are company among ourselves." The dear old woman
turned her mild brown eyes from Mrs. Allen to her husband, questioning
them both.
The old man smiled.
"Our son is right; let him start life once more among his old
neighbors."
And so it was settled among them, in the stillness of that night, after
Nelson Thrasher had revealed every thing to his parents.