His father had left home on a fancied mission, a duty
he believed to be a revelation given by God through Jacob
Cochrane. The farm did not miss him much at first, Ivory
reflected bitterly, for since his fanatical espousal of
Cochranism his father's interest in such mundane matters as
household expenses had diminished month by month until they had
no meaning for him at all. Letters to wife and boy had come at
first, but after six months--during which he had written from
many places, continually deferring the date of his return-they
had ceased altogether. The rest was silence. Rumors of his
presence here or there came from time to time, but though Parson
Lane and Dr. Perry did their best, none of them were ever
substantiated.
Where had those years of wandering been passed, and had they all
been given even to an imaginary and fantastic service of God? Was
his father dead? If he were alive, what could keep him from
writing? Nothing but a very strong reason, or a very wrong one,
so his son thought, at times.
Since Ivory had grown to man's estate, he understood that in the
later days of Cochrane's preaching, his "visions,"
"inspirations," and "revelations" concerning the marriage bond
were a trifle startling from the old-fashioned, orthodox point of
view.
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