Storyteller.

Southern Cross, Volume 1, Issue 12, 17 June 1893, Page 13

Storyteller.

ABRAHAM’S MOTHER. Chapter 2. [The heroine, Maria West, who runs a store in an American village, advertised for a husband, and secures one in Abraham Harrison, who stipulates that he is to be allowed to visit his mother in New York at intervals.] Never had Maria done such a business as during the next few days. Erom miles around, people came, ostensibly to buy soap or sugar, in reality to take a look at Abraham Harrison. By Saturday, Maria’s outfit was more than paid for, and Saturday night the little sitting-room back of the store could barely hold the crowd eager to witness the ceremony. It took the village quite a while to settle back into its old tranquility. The reason was that every one was expecting something strange to happen. Nothing that Maria could now do would have caused surprise. The neighbors were disappointed, were even aggrieved, because nothing did happen. The idea of that marriage turning out well! Was it possible P Possible or not, Maria certainly went around holding her head higher than ever. Of all Abraham’s virtues the greatest was revealed to her after marriage. He was methodical. She had thought herself exact, but in a week’s acquaintance she found that she could tell the time exactly by what Abraham was doing. About the middle of April, Abraham, Avho was closing the store for the night, remarked, “ Maria, tomorrow’s Saturday.”

Maria was straightening’ boxes on the shelves behind the counter ; she did not even turn her head to answer, “ Supposin’ it is ? What of it P ” “ It’s the Saturday before the third Sunday of the month, Maria,” said Abraham, in his quietest tones. A tin cracker-box slipped out of Maria’s hands and fell tipon the floor. “ For the land’s sake, so it is! Well, Abraham, are you going- to see your mother?” “Yes, ma’am.” There was silence for at least ten minutes, during which Maria picked up the cracker-box, and altered the positions of all the others on the shelves. “ Maria,” ventured Abraham, timidly, “ don’t you think you’d like to see mother ? Just once, Maria, and I won’t ask you to go again, but it would be doing the act of a daughter to her.” “ Look here, Abraham Harrison, you make me sick. You’re goin’ to see your mother the third Sunday of every month, ain’t you F Then you remember and not invite me again. I want it understood once for all that I’m no travellei’.” “ Yes, ma’am.” A soft answer does not always turn, away wrath. To some people it is exasperating. Maria scowled all through Abraham’s methodical preparations for his trip, and the next morning, Avhen he and his black valise went off in the stage, she nodded good-bye without a word. He had not been gone five minutes before the neighbours dropped in to learn what had happened. Maria had a hard day of it. At least twenty times she had to repeat that Abraham had gone to visit his mother, that she wouldn’t go because she was no traveller, and that the mother was sick and was going to leave them a nice sum of money. The explanation worked like a charm. Any one with a sick mother who has money ought to be treated with consideration When Abraham came home Monday, pale and tired, the men who used to be cool to him met him with friendliness and inquired politely after his mother. But the visits seemed to have a depressing effect upon Abraham. Punctually at six o’clock when he was closing the store on the Friday proceeding the Saturday before the third Sunday of every month, he

would say, “ Maria, to-morrow’s Saturday,” and Maria would answer, “Well, Abraham, you can give myremembrances to your mother.” Then he would pack his valise and start off with the stage the following morning. He always started with a quiet smile of anticipation, as if his visit were to be a pleasure, but he invariably returned in the six o’clock stage Monday evening looking pale and worn and totally unable to eat his supper. By Tuesday, however, he would be himself again, and would give Maria a message, or even a little present, from the mother she had refused to meet. After a month or two Maria’s conscience pricked hex*. She began to see that the mother had no intention of interfering, and that she must be as quiet and respectable as her son. It was also apparent that her mother-in-law’s attitude wounded her. Else why should Abraham start off cheerfully on his journey, returning pale and downcast P By the sixth month, Maria was having a bitter internal struggle. A now sentiment had risen in her nature —a sentiment which, all her life, she had despised as a woman’s weakness, and which she would have died rather than admit —the sentiment of curiosity. There was no help for it. It was raging within her. The only thing to be done now was to conceal it from Abraham, from everybody. It was so strong that, on the Sundays Abraham was away, it was the greatest relief to stand in the. middle of the bedroom and say aloud, knowing that no one could hear, “ I’d give a quarter of a dollar for one look at that mother. What an almighty fool I Avas to say I Avould not go to see her !” But curiosity, even of the strongest, Avas not equal to Maria’s pride. When she said a thing she stuck to it. The thought did not enter her head that she might go to Nbay York with Abraham, after her statement that she was no traveller; and Abraham, after his first request, neA r er asked her again. Time Avent on. The anniversary of the Avedding drew near. Maria decided to give a party. She spoke to Abraham, and he agreed, as he did to everything. He had just come back from his eleventh visit to his mother, and he seemed more Avorn out than ever. Monday evening, as usual, he Avent to bed almost upon his return, but Tuesday he and Maria sat up as late as half-past nine, simply talkingover the proposed entertainment. When every plan Avas made, and when Maria, pen in hand, was ready to begin on the invitations, it occurred to her that the anniversary fell upon Sunday and Avould have to be celebrated on the folloAving Monday —the Monday after the third Sunday of the month. “Abraham, can’t you go and see your mother a Aveek earlier next time?” she asked, showing him the calendar. Abraham shook his head very, very quietly : “ No, Maria, what I do I do regular. I’ve took the habit, and I can’t change.” “Do you mean to tell me, Abraham Harrison, that you ain’t goin’ to be at your own anniversary ?” Never had Maria spoken in such a tone. Abraham quaked before her. “Oh, now, Maria! You know I ain't thinkin’ of anythin’ like that. I’ll be here. Ain’t I always home Monday nights prompt ? I’ll be here, Maria.”

“ If you ain’t, Abraham Harrison, you’]l be so sorry that you’ll wish you’d never seen your mother. That’s what I’ve got to say about it. If you ain’t here, Abraham Harrison,” —Maria’s voice only rose a half-tone, —“ if you ain’t here, Abraham Harrison, the next month I goto Hew York to see your mother, and I go alone.” The conversation came to a full stop. Maria had said all she wanted to say, and Abraham was physically and mentally incapable of a reply. Still, when the Saturday before the third Sunday of the month arrived, he went off at the usual hour. Maria took no notice of his going. She was busy with preparations for the party, and she had enough faith in Abraham’s methodical ways to feel sure of