Barriers Burned Away | Page 4

the sick man could only look through the dusk at the outline of
his son with a bewildered stare, his mind too weak to comprehend the
truth. But soon he too was sobbing for joy.
But when his wife suddenly became a lifeless weight in his son's arms,
who in wild alarm cried, "Mother, what is the matter? Speak to me! Oh!
I have killed her by my rash entrance," the sick man's manner changed,

and his eyes again became dry and hard, and even in the darkness had a
strange glitter.
"Is your mother dead?" he asked, in a low, hoarse voice.
"Oh, mother, speak to me!" cried the son, forgetting for a time his
father.
For a moment there was death-like silence. Then the young man groped
for an old settle in the corner of the room, laid his mother tenderly upon
it, and sprang for a light, but as he passed his father's bed the same
strong grasp fell upon his arm that his mother had shuddered under a
little before, and the question was this time hissed in his ear, "Is your
mother dead?" For a moment he had no power to answer, and his father
continued: "What a fool I was to expect God to show mercy or
kindness to me or mine while I was above ground! You are only
brought home to suffer more than death in seeing your mother die. May
that God that has followed me all my life, not with blessings--"
"Hush, father!" cried his son, in loud, commanding tones. "Hush, I
entreat," and in his desperation he actually put his hand over his father's
mouth.
The poor woman must have been dead, indeed, had she long remained
deaf to the voice of her beloved son, and his loud tones partially
revived her. In a faint voice she called, "Dennis!"
With hands suddenly relaxed, and hearts almost stilled in their beating,
father and son listened for a second. Again, a little louder, through that
dark and silent room, was heard the faint call, "Dennis!"
Springing to her side, her son exclaimed, "Oh, mother, I am here; don't
leave us; in mercy don't leave us."
"It was I she called," said his father.
With unnatural strength he had tottered across the room, and taking his
wife's hand, cried, "Oh, Ethel, don't die! don't fill my already full cup to

overflowing with bitterness!"
Their familiar voices were the best of remedies. After a moment she sat
up, and passing her hand across her brow as if to clear away confusion
of mind, said: "Don't be alarmed; it's only a faint turn. I don't wonder
though that you are frightened, for I never was so before."
Poor woman, amid all the emergencies of her hard lot, she had never in
the past given way so far.
Then, becoming aware of her husband's position, she exclaimed: "Why,
Dennis, my husband, out of your bed? You will catch your death." "Ah,
wife, that matters little if you and Dennis live."
"But it matters much to me," cried she, springing up.
By this time her son had struck a light, and each was able to look on the
other's face. The unnatural strength, the result of excitement, was fast
leaving the sick man. The light revealed him helplessly leaning on the
couch where his wife had lain. His face was ashen in color, and he was
gasping for breath. Tenderly they carried him back to his bed, and he
was too weak now to do more than quietly lie upon it and gaze at them.
After replenishing the fire, and looking at the little ones that were
sleeping in the outer room, they shaded the lamp, and sat down at his
bedside, while the mother asked her son many eager questions as to his
escape. He told them how he had struggled through the snow till almost
exhausted, when he had been overtaken by a farmer with a strong team,
and thus enabled to make the journey in safety.
As the sick man looked and listened, his face grew softer and more
quiet in its expression.
Then the young man, remembering, said: "I bought the medicines you
wrote for, mother, at Bankville. This, the druggist said, would produce
quiet and sleep, and surely father needs it after the excitement of the
evening."
The opiate was given, and soon the regular, quiet breathing of the

patient showed that it had taken effect. A plain but plentiful supper,
which the anxious mother had prepared hours before, was placed upon
the kitchen table, and the young man did ample justice to it; for, the
moment the cravings of his heart were satisfied in meeting his kindred
after absence, he became conscious of the keenest hunger. Toiling
through the snow for hours in