Silas Bradford's Boy by Joseph C. Lincoln

The windows of the sitting room of the Silas Bradford house were faintly illumined as Banks came up the walk to the side door. A peep beneath the shade, however, showed him that although the lamp, its wick turned down, was burning upon the center table, his mother's chair beside that table was empty. Evidently she had done as he requested and had not waited up for him. He was thankful; he did not feel equal to another trying interview that night. There were so many questions he must ask and which she must answer, but for those questions and answers his brain must be clear.

He took the lamp from the table and turned toward the door at the foot of the stairs. He passed the sofa above which, on the wall, hung the portrait of his father. He paused an instant. From the frame the face looked down at him, keen eyed, commanding, confident, dignified. To Banks his father was but a shadowy memory. Silas Bradford had died when his son was five years old, and during those years Captain Silas was at home only at infrequent intervals.