His eyes dilated with the anguish of his soul; his features worked
spasmodically. There was a moment's hesitation. The arm that smote
him was again uplifted--the cruel and degrading instrument of
punishment a second time about to descend; when, with the strength
of youth, and the determination of manhood, the son grasped the
arm of the father, and without any more than the degree of violence
necessary to effect his object, he tore the weapon from the uplifted
hand.
"I can not strike YOU.'" he exclaimed, addressing the old man. "That
blow has lost you your son--for ever! The shame and the dishonor
shall rest on other shoulders. They are better deserved here, and
here I place them!"
With these words, he smote Stevens over the shoulders, once, twice,
thrice, before the latter could close with him, or the father
interfere to arrest the attempt. Stevens sprang upon him, but the
more athletic countryman flung him off, and still maintained his
weapon. The father added his efforts to those of Stevens; but he
shook himself free from both, and, by this time, the mother had
contrived to place herself between the parties.
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