gings of my soul. Perhaps he was weighing my
proposition to go to Chicago, and speak for myself and for him. I could
not say that my plan was the best, or that any good would come of it;
and I mentioned it because I could think of nothing else that looked
like decided action. I glanced at him, and he saw that I was desirous
of resuming the topic.
"Philip, it is my fault that I am separated from your mother, and your
words sound like so many reproaches to me," said he, with emotion. "But
I deserve it all, for though I feel that God has forgiven me, he will
not spare me from all the consequences of my folly and sin."
"Do not say that, father. Far be it from me to utter a reproach for
anything you have done," I replied, disturbed by his words and his
manner. "Let the past go--'let the dead bury their dead.'"
"But the dead will not bury their dead, Philip. Your mother left me
when she could no longer live with me. I do not blame her. It was my
fault alone."
"I only wish to let my mother know what has happened; that you are now
a good and true man. I am sure, if she knew this, she would hasten to
us without a single day's delay."
"Of course she is under the influence of her father and her brothers. I
do not even know where she is. If I did I would write to her. She will
return one of these days, and then I will try to see her."
"It may be years before she returns, father. They say it will be three
years at least."
"What can we do?"
"I will go to Chicago."
"What good can that possibly do? Will you force yourself into the
presence of your grandfather, and then tell him that you are the son of
his daughter? He would not believe you; he would kick you out of his
house."
"I shall not be rash or indiscreet."
"But what will you do? What can you do?" demanded my father, earnestly.
"I don't know; that will depend upon circumstances. In spite of my
mishaps, fortune has favored me in the long run," I replied; but I had
no plan whatever for my future action.
"You do not know your grandfather."
"I never even saw him."
"He is not a bad man, by any means; on the contrary, he is upright and
liberal. But he is eminently solid and practical. He is old-fashioned,
full of dignity and self-respect. He believes that the world and all
the affairs of mankind move in deep-worn ruts. He follows only
legitimate and recognized channels. He rejects anything that is strange
and out of the common course, and for that rea
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