HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Signal, 1881-09-23, Page 2THE HURON SIGNAL, FRIDAY SEPT. 23. 1881.
That less o' Louis's,
• algay W 1110= Lrir10•6111111 i WL arras.
Bit nascaa Howson Btierrarr.
CHAPT_R I.
• DlJ7tcuL! CASS.
They did not look like woman, or at
leant a atranger,new to the district,might
easily helve been misled by their appear -
ammo, as they stood together in a group
by the pit's mouth. There were about a
down of them there—all "pit -girls," as
they were called; women who wore a
dress more than half masculine, and who
talked loudly and laughed discordantly,
and some of whom, God knows, had
faces as hard and brutal as the hardest
of the collier brothers and husbands and
sweethearts. They had lived among the
coal -pits, and had worked early and late
at the "mouth, ' ever since they had
been old enough to take part in the
heavy labour. It was not to be won-
dered at that they had lost all bloom of
womanly modesty and gentleness.
Their mothers had been "pit -girls" in
their time, their grandmothers in theirs;
they had fared hardly, and worked hard,
they had breathed in the dust and grime
of coal, and somehow or other, it seemed
to stick to them and reveal itself in their
natures as it did in their bold unwashed
faces. At first one shrank from them,
but one's shrinking could not fail to
change to pity. There was no element
of softness to rule or even influence them
in their half -savage existence.
On the particular evening of which 1
speak, the group at the pit's mouth were
even more than usually noisy. They
were laughing, gossiping, and joking,—
coarse enough jokes,—and now and then
t► listener might have beard an oath flung
out as if all were well used to the sound.
Most of them were young women, though
there were a few older ones among them,
and the principal figure in thegroup—the
centre figure about whom the rest
clustered—wan a young woman. But
she differed from the rest in two or three
respects. The others seemed somewhat
stunted in gttiwth; she' was tall enough
to be imposing. She was as roughly
clad as the poorest of them, but she
wore her uncouth garb differently. The
man's jacket of fustaiq, open at the neck
bared a handsome aunbrowned throat.
The man's hat shaded a face .with dark
eyes that had a sort of animal beauty,
and a well -moulded chin. It was at this
girl that all the rough jokes seemed t+
be directed.
"I'll tell thee, Jean," said one woman,
"we'at ha' thee sweetheartin' wi' hin
afore th' month's out. •
"Aye,'; laughed her fellows. "so we
shall. Tha'st ha' to turn soft after aw.
Tha conna stoical out again' th' Lunnon
chap. V'e'st ha' thee sweetheartin
Joan, i' th' face o aw tha'st said."
Joan Lowrie faced them defiantly:
"Tha'st noan ha' me sweetheartin' wi
sin an a foo'," she said, "I amna owe
fund o' men folk at ony time. I've hail
my fill en 'em: and I'm man- bike t.
tak' up al' such :eike as this un.. An
he's 110 an a Luiniener neither. He'
on'y fro' th' South:' An' Ili' South is na
Lunnon."
"He's getter' Lunnon ways this'," pu
in another. ''Chepsdn' his worols up an
mincin' 'em enls'. lie's loan . Linea
shire, ony gawk could tell."
"I dunnot see its hu :winces s., ani.
Joan roughly. "He .lunnot speak .•u
loike, but he's well en.ow 1' Ilia way."
A boisterous peal o f laughter inter
rupted her.
"I thowt tl.ac:e .•,l llira a fee' a min-
ute sin'," crud t er three .voices let
once. "Eh, Joan, lass, tha'st Loin' le
change thy menet. I see."
The girl's eyes flashed.
"Theer's others I could ca' foe's,' eh
said: "I need nor go far to foind foo's.
Fon' huntin's th' beat sport out, an' th'
safest. Leave th' engineer alone an'
a young eon o1 Anak—brains and muscle
evenly balanced and fully developed.
He turned his head over his shoulder
to look at Jean Lowrie one.yaiu.
"That girt," said Grace, "has worked
at the pit's mouth from ker childhood;
her smother mus a pit g 1 until she died—
of hard wee, privation and ill treat-
ment. Her tiler is a collier and lives
as treat of diem do—drinking, rioting
and fighting. Their homes is such a
home as you have seen dolens of since
you came here; the girl could nut better
it if she tried, and would not know hoer
to begin 0 she felt inclined. She h
borne, they tell me, such treatment as
would have killed moat women. She
has been beaten, bruised, felled to the
earth by this father of hers, who is said
to be a perfect fiend in his cups. And
yet she holds to her place in their
wretched hovel, and mattes herself a
slave to the fellow with a dogged, stub-
b.:rn determination. What can I do
with such a case as that, Derrick
"lou have tried to make friends will)
the girl I" said Derrick.
Grace coloured seusitively.
"There is not a man, woman or child
in the parish," he answered, "with whom
I have not conscientiously tried to make
friends, and there is scarcely one. I
think, with whom I have succeeded.
Why can I not succeed 1 Why do I al-
ways fail ? The fault must be . with my-
self—"
"A mistake that at the outset," in-
terposed Derrick, "There is no fault in
the matter; there is simply misfortmtc.
Your parishioners are so unfortunate as
not to be able to understand you and on
your part you are so unfortunate as to
fail at first to place yourself on the right
footing with them. I say at first,' you
observe. Clive yourself time, Grace,
and give them time too."
"Thank you," said the Reverend P..ul.
"But speaking of this girl—`That Lass
o' Lowrie's' as she is always called -Jean
I believe her name is. Joan Lowrie is,
I can assure you, a weight upon me. I
cannot help her, and I cannot rid my
mind of her. She stands apart from her
fellows. She has most of the faults of
her class, but none of their billies; and
she has the reputation o£ being half
feared, half revered, The man who
dared to approach her with the coarse
love -making which is the fashion among
them, would rue it to the last day of
his Life. She seems to defy all the
world...
"And it is impossible to win upon her.''•
"\fire than impossible. The t:rt
tithe I went to her with sympathy, I felt
myself a child in her hands. She never
laughed nor jeered at me as the rent du.
She stood before me like a rock, listen-
ing until I had finished speaking. ''Par-
ecu,''she said, 'if thalt leave 'ole alone
I11 leave thee alone,' and then turned
about and walked into the house. I am
nothing but 'th' paars.'n' to these people,
, and 'th' parson' is one fur whom they
have little respect and no sympathy. -
He was not far Wrong;. The solid
• heavy --natured collier's openly looked
r' down upon "tet' parson." A "bit of a
whipper snapper," even the .l•est-natur-
It was =oompiat, decided hand, fres
from the suspicion of an unneosiasry
ease.
"DLL* Ida. Gum,-
"Many thanks for the book. You are
very kind indeed Pray let us bear
something more about your people. I
am afraid papa must find them very dis-
couraging,
i♦couraging, but I cannot help feeling in-
terested. Grand•seamma wishes to be
remembered to you.
"With more thanks,
•'Believe Inc your friend,
"Ames RA/X014."
Derrick refolded the note and handed
it back to his friend. To tell the truth,
it did not impress him very favourably.
A girl not yet twenty years old, who
could write such a note u this to a man
who loved her, must be rather too self-
contained and well-balanced.
"You have never told me much of this
story, Grace," he said.
"There is nut much to tell," answered
the curate. flushing again. "She is the
Rector's daughter. I have known her
three years. You remember I wrote to
you about meeting her while you were
in India. As for the rest, I do not ex-
actly understand myself how it is that I
have gone so far, having so—so little en-
couragement—in fact having had no en-
ccuragement at all; but, however that is,
it has grown upon me, Derrick, --my
feeling for' her has grown into my life.
She has never cared for roe. I am quite
sure of that, you see. Indeed, I could
hardly expect it. It is not her way to
care for men as they are likely to care
for her, though it will come some day, I
suppose—with the coming man," half
smiling. "She is simply what she sism►
herself here, rn friend Anice Barholm,
and I an, thankful for that much. She
would n. t write even that if she did not
mean it."
"Bless my soul," broke in Derrick,
tossing back hishead impatiently; "and
she is only nineteen yet, you pay ?''
' "Odly nineteen," said the borate,
with simple trustfulness in his friend's
sympathy, "but different, you knew,
from any other woman I have ever
seen."
The tea and toast came in then, and
they sat down together to partake ,,f it.
Derrick knew Anice quite well before
the meal was ended, and pet he had not
asked many questions. He knew how
(:race had met her at her father's house
an .odd. self-reliant, very pretty and
youthful -looking little creature, with the
force and decision of half a dozen ordin-
ary women hidden in her small frame;
how she had seemed to like hin;`''how
their intimacy had grown; how his gen-
tle, deep-rooted passion had grown with
it: how' he had learned to understand
that he had nothing to hope for.
'•I am a little fearful for the result of
her first visit here," said Grace, pushing
' his cup aside and Looking troubled. "I
!cannot bear to think of her being disap-
pointed and disturbed by the half -savage
state in which these people live. She
knows nothing of'the mining districts.
She has never been'in Lancashire, and
they have always lived in the South.
She is' in hent new, with Mrs. Bar-
holre's mother. And though I have
!tried. in my short letters to her, to pre-
pare her for the rough side of life she
will be obliged to see, I am afraid it is
impelaible for her t•' realize it, and it
may he a shock to her when she comes."
"She is coming t"T.iggan then ?" said
Derrick.
"Iii a few weekt. She has been visit-
ing Mrs. Galloway since the Rector gave
up Ilia living at Ashley-wolde, and Mrs.
Barholm told me to -clay that she spoke
in her last letter of coming t.. ahem."
The moon was shining brightly when
; Derrick stepped out into the'street later
in the evening, and though the air was
!somewhat chill it dal by no means un -
1 pleasant. He had rather a long walk
before him. He disliked the smoke and
1 dust of the murky little town, and chose
1 to live on its outskirts; but he was fond
of slurp exercise, and regarded the dis-
tance between his ltxlfiing and the field
of his daily labour as an advantage.
"1 work off a great deal of superflu..us
steam between the two places," he said
to Grace at the door. "The wind com-
ing across Boggart Brow has a way of
scattering and cooling restless plans and
feverish fancies, that is Igoe,' for a n;an.
Half a mile of the Knoll Road is often
enough to blow all the morbidness out
of a fellow.-
To-night
ellow.-Tu-night by the time Ire reached the
`corner that turned hint aTw.a—rheittrdf
' R•oid, his mind had wandered ul«•n au
old track, nut it had been drawn there
by a new object.—noodling ether than
;Joan howl•», indeed. The impar si•n
matte upon him by the story of Joan and
!her outcast life was one not cant• to he
Armed. The hardest miseri--. °in the
lot .d a class in *horn he rail,' teat f..il
, to he interested, wc,'e group -.••l •a►.out
that dramatic figure. He was struck.
t .1., 10' a Iwnful sense . f riclo::yrutty.
"if she bad been in this other girl's
niche." he said. "0 she hi } tired the
life of this Anice-----
Rut he did not finish his sentence.
'tomethine. not many yards beyond him,
hama wan bowed •-.0.-4.1her hands. and
ed called him in sovereign contempt for
Ilia insignificant playsital prop.,ttitons.
e Truly the sensitico' little gentleman's
lines had not fallen in pleasant places.
And this was not all. There was anth-
t er source of dine" uragement with which
he h^•1 to battle in secret, though of
- this he would hate felt it almost dishon;
iour to complain. But Derrick's keen
1 eyes had seen it long ago, and, under -
r standing it well; he sympathised with
i.his fg•iend'acceolingly. Yet, despite {he
m:uiy rebuffs the curate had nest with,
he was not c.nvlueretl by any means.
His was not an easily subdued nature,aftcrell. He was very warm on the
subject of Joan L.wi1ie this evening—so
' warm, indeed. that the interest the mere
sight of the girl had awakentxl in Der -
e rick's mind was considerably heighten-
ed. They were still speaking of her
when they stopped before the door of
Grace's modest lotlzinge.
leave me alone too. It ll be th' beat fu
✓ You will come in.. of course ?" said
yo• "
She turned round nod strode out o1
the group. Another burst of derisive
laughter follower} her, but she took no
notice of ft. She took fru notice of any•
thing—not even of the two men who at
that very monmeut passed atel turned to
look at her as she went by.
"A fine creature ''aid one of thorn•
"A fine creature ech.'ed the other'
"Ya, and you see that is ',reenact),it,
Derrick. 'A fine ereatere'—and n.othin
•
else.''
They were the young engineer and his
friend the Reverend Paul Grace, curate n
of the parish. There were ever two
then tante unlike, physically and num-
tally, anal yet it would have been a hard
task to find two natures more harmoei-
owe and sympathetic. Still meet peo-
ple wondered at end failed to compre-
b nd their friendship. The mild. nerv-
ous
ervious little t ►zo,nian barely reached De:-
riek's sl: 1 ' • : his finely ,•ut face wu
singularly feminine and innocent: the
mild eyes beaming form behind his
small spo'ttaclee had an a**rt.r•t, dreamy
look. One could not Gail to see at the
first glance, that this refined, reetlees,
oonccientioas an little gentlemwas hard-
ly the person to cope sneeessfnlly with
i g
Riar Derrick irt*•'to !,v his aid; til n
Paul.
"Yee," Derrick answered, "for a short
time. I am tired and shall feel all the
better for a cup of Mrs. Burnie's tea,"
pushing his hair back from hie forehead,
as he ha.l a habit of doing when a little
excittel. nates ates the entail parlour appear
smaller than ever, when he entered it.
He was obligati to bend his head when
he p,aaseoi thmusth the door, and it was
not until he had thrown hinmaelf into the
largest easy chair, that the trim apart-
ment scented to regain its countenance.
Grace paused at the table, and with a
sudden flush, took np a letter that lay
r
I there among two othree uninteresting-
; looking epistles.
"it is a note from Miss Aniee," he
said, coning to the hearth and applying
1 his poen-knife in a tentle way to the
small square envelope.
'Not a letter, Grace said Dealt►
I
wilt* smile.
"A letter ! Oh dear, no ! She has
never written me a letter. They are
always notes with some sort of business
object. She has vary decided emirs on
the subject of miscellaneous letter -writ-
ing."
He teed the note himself end then
cl
les/(( niarrietr
there was • dogged , sort of misery ex-
pressed in her very ;posture,
"A woman," he laid aloud. "What
woman, I wonder. This is not the time
for any omen to be sitting here ahnie. "
Ho the road at once, and go-
iag to t girl, touched her lightly on
the shoulder.
"My lass,"( the said good-natured,
what ails you
She raised her bead slowly asif she
were dizzy and bewildered. Her face
was disfigured by a bruise, and on one
temple was a cut frontwhich the blood
trickled down her cheek; but the moon-
light showed him that it was Joan. He
removed his hand from her shoulder and
drew back a pace.
"You have been hurt !" he exclaiin-
!caught his eye—a figure treated open the
roadside near a collier's cottage—eve-
dandy spit girl in some trouble, for ler
ed.
"Aye," she answered deliberately,
"I've had a hurt—a bad un."
He did not ask her how she had been
hurt. He knew all well as if she had
told him, that it had been done in one
of her father's fits of drunken passion.
He had seen this sort of thing before
during his sojourn in the mining dis-
trict& But shamefully repulsive as it
had been to him, he had never felt the
degradation of it as fiercely as he did
now. „
"You are Joan Lowrie 1" he said.
"Aye, I'm Joan Lowrie, if it'll do yo'
ony good to know."
"You must have something done to
that cut upon your temple."
She put up -her hand and wiped the
blood away, as if impatient at his per-
sistence.
"It'll do well enow as it is," she said.
"That is a mistake," he answered.
"You are losing more blood than you
imagine. Will you let me help you 1"
She stirred uneasily.
Derrick took no notice of the objec-
tion. He drew his handkerchief from
his pocket, and, after some little effort,
managed to staunch the bleeding, and
having' done so, bound the wound up.
Perhaps something in his sympathetic
silence and the quiet consideration of his
manner touched Joan. Her face, up-
turiled almost submissively, for the
moment seemed tremulous,- and she set
her lips together. She did not speak
until hb had finished, and then she rose to wren who did not understand the
and stood before hien immovable as'
•"That Iass o' L,wrie's said a supe -
and
ever. - -
annuated old c•llier once, in answer to a peop.e under their charge, and to coca
pen as yore a geutlemau yo' know what I Grace rose from the chair, flushing up
I'd Nuke to nay and eanna—heppen yo to the routs of his bair,—
d "Right 1" he reiterated. "yea, right
von as ate ,,puke, the instinct of de- 1 I say. And how, I ask you, nem a man co in her nature struggled against . battle against the faintest el lent of
that of gratitude ; but the finer instinct I right and truth, even when it rill and
conquered.+Inst arraign itself un the side of wrong.
"We will not speak of thanks," he i If I could shut my eyes to the right, and
said. "I may need help some day, and see only the wrong, I .night leave myself
come to you fur it." at least a blind mutant, but I cannot—I
• "If yo' ivver need help at th' pit will cannot. If 1 could hook upon thew
yo' come to me e' she de uanded. "I've " things as Barhulm does—", But here
seen th' time as I could lea' gi'en help to 1 lie stoped, suddenly checking himself.
th' Mestere et I'd had th' muind. If yu Il "Thank Clod you cannot," put in Dtr-
promise dolt—" rick. quietly.
"I will promise it," he answered her. I For a few minutes the Reverend Paul
"An' I'll promise to gi' it pl.." eager- paced the ronin in silence.
ly. "So that's settled. Now I'll go nay I "Among the then who were once his
ways. Good neet to y"'." fellow -workers. Craddock is an oracle,"
,"Good night," he returned, and un- he went on. "His influence is not un-
covering with as ;rave 11 courtesy as lie like ,loan Lawrie's.• It is the influence
might have shown to the buret holy in of u strong mind over weaker ones. His
the land. or to his own wmother,er sister. Khali., sarcastic speeches are proverbs
he stood at the n•::J-side and watched aiming the Rigganites; he amuses them
her until she was out of sight. - and can make the," listen to him. When
he hc:.la up 'Th. uwd uat'son' to their
• CHAPTER 1I. ridicule, he sweeps all before him. He
can undo in an hour 'dui I have
"TE' uwd lad** been at hit tricks struggled iyear to acomplish. H' was
again,' was the r"ugh cominent oma -ie ea a c••llier Himself until he became super-
Joan Lowrie',, appearance when she came
animated, and he knows their natures,
down to her work the next merman_ : yen see -
but Joan looked neither right n.- left. �\ I+oat has he to say aboutBarhulnn 1"
and went to her place without a v-•r.l. asked Derrick—withou, looking at his
Not one among them had ever heard her friend, however.
speak of her miseries and wrongs, or haul tib he protested, "that is the
known her to do otherwise than iZn. re
'tarsi i:ide .•f it—that is miserable—that
the fact that their existence was well-
known
. is wretched : I may as well speak open -
known among her fellow -workers ly. Barh••lm is his strong, card, and
When Derrick passe4.1 her on lois nay that is what baffles me. He scans Bar-
tu his duties, she looked up fh: r task hoh°n with the eye of an eagle. He does
with a faint, quick colour, ::oiroml rep;ird to - net ,,'.are a single weakness. He studies
his courteous gesture with to curt 3.0 no, , him—lie ki,. ws his favourite phrases and
ungracious nod. It was evident:hat not gestures by heart, and has used them un-
..til.l (rail her toe+l-
'til there is not n Riggan collier who does
even hergratitude w
courage, any advances. But, note is ii• not rec•�gnize them when they are pre -
standing this, lie diol wit feel'relot•1ie.i or =rata. t him. at�.l applaud them as ani
disappointed. He had learned enough
mistht applaud the staple jokes et
of Joan, in their brief interview. to pre- '.f a ponalar actor," „
pare him to expect u•. other manner
Explained even thus far, the rase
from her. He was none the lees lute:. '"ked difficult enough; but Derrick felt
ested in the girl. because he found }nim- 1"' wonder at his friend;. discouragement
self forced to resar.l her curiously and when he had heard his story to the end, `
critically, and at a distance. He watch-a'i`l underst.k«l it fully.
her as she went .al«alt her work, silent. The living at Iliegan had never been
self-contained, and solitary. happily nianased. It had been presented
etter a bit o
remark of Der.:::'s. Eh hu..'a a roars but
I•
411e eople failed to understand;
Thank yo." she said in a suppressed lout •«„sibly it had never before fallen
un, boo is ' Th' felly,, is leaf fears on
voice, "I canna say no more,” Tha' sees hi.o's g' sk•«,_ nut' _.rathe hands .1 a plan who was 60 little
"Never mind that,'' ho anavrere i. 'I her.nalit ed to .veRig wasunites, as w
lin'. H .o con read a bit if tha'll believe g
could have done no, less U you
could'tete• •resent rector. the:Reverend Harold
it,Mester, with a touch of ride. 1
g o home now—' y 1 l:arholie. A man who has mistaken his
"I shall na•o whoam to neer," she in-' "Not as th' ow -d char ivver did oat fur
6 vieatien. and who has become ever so
terra , I her i that road," the speaker went on, ;
1ted him. faintly conscious of his blunder,. s be
''You cannot remain out of doors nothing loth to Lossie with "one o' th' may
•
I Mestere.- "He rive er did nowt fur her
a stuti,Lling-Ll• ck in another's path; but
he exclaimed. !restrained as he will be b his secret
but spend her wage i' drink. Fut titer y
wur a neet skc,.,' -here a fewyetars.seu
pangs .•1 censcitnce,• he can scarcely be
an' th' lass went her Way's wi' a few oalm an active ohstructioniat. But a ,man.
steady nus, nn' they say as she getter who, having mistaken the' field of his
r hfe s 1a1«our, yet remains amiably self -
stirred her, for the neat minute her ahead on 'em aw, wo as it wur a wonder.
manner softened. "I've done it often,
Just let her set her mind to d cwt an' satisfied, and unconscious of his unfit-
she added, "an' nowts nivver feared me. she'll de it,'
•
ere. ear, err;c • to t
night, as the ensiueer leaned back in his
if he hail' chosen his groper sphere.
sung chair, •glowerin t at the grate ante Foch a man as the last was the Rev -
knitting his brows, "Here," he said, •is' erend Harold. \ gootl-natural, broad-
knitting
shoe's':
"If I de, it wunnot be th' first tonne,"
meeting his startled glance with a pride
which defied him to pity or question her.
But his sympathy and interest must have
nes., may .to more harm in his serene
"H 1 D • k Pa 1 tea•t ignorance than he might have clone good
Yo' need nor care, Mester, I'm used too
it." -
"But I cannot go away and Ieave you
here," he said.
''You canna do r_ ' other.' . she an-
swered.
"Have you iso friends ?" • he ventured
hesitatingly.
''N , I ha' not," she sod, har.lening
again, and she turned away at is elle
meant to -end the discussion. But he
would not leave her. The pirit of de-
ternmivation was u strong in his charac-
ter as in her own. He tore a leaf from
his pocket-b.iok, and, w+l•iting a few lines
up• n it, handed it to her. - "If you will
take that to Thwaites' wife, he said,
"there will be no necessity for your re-
maining out of doors all night. -
She took it from him mechanically;
but when he finished speaking, her calm-
ness left her. Her hand began to trem-
ble, and then her *hole frame, 'and the
next instant the note fell to the ground,
and she dropped into her old place again,
sobbing passionately and hiding her face
on her arms.
"I wunnot tak' it !• she oriel. "I
wunnut go no wheer,an' tell as I'm turn-
ed like a .1 g into th' street "
Her misery and shame shook her like
a tempest. But she subdued herself at
last. •
•'I dunnot see as yo' need care,' she
protested half resentfully. "Other folk
dunrad. I'm left to mysen most .;
toinmes.- Her head fell again and- she
trembled from heed to foot.
Bm I du care ' he returned. "I
';mint have+yom here laid will -not. 11
you will trust me, and do u I tell you,
the people you go to need know nothing.
you de not choose too tell them."
It was evident that his determination
wale her falter, and seeing this he fol-
lowed up his advantage and .n far ire-
, /eras+l it that at last, after a few more
•urgptmiarats, al•e rose slowly and picked
up the fallen paper.
"1f I inun go. 1 anon," she said, twist-
ing it nervously in her fingers, and then
there was a praise. in which she plainly
' lingered to say something, for she st t,d
before him with a restrained air and
downcast face. She broke the silence
herself. however. suddenly Looking up
and fixing her large eyes full upon him.
"If I was a lady." she said. "happen
1 should know what to say to yo';
Mit. bein' what I am. i donut Aar-
• a creature with the majesty . f a Juno—
though really nothing but a girl ill years
—who rules a set of savages by the mere.
I Lower of a superior will and mind, and
yet a woman who works at the mouth •.f
a coal pit,—who cannot write her now
name, and who i. beaten I y leer tiend • f
a father u if she were a deg. t;.,i,ol
Heaven `. what is she doing here ' \\-hat
does it all mean i' '
The ReverendiP:w! put up his delicate
han 1 depreciatingly.
"My tiemr Fergus." he said. "If I dare
—if my own life and the lives of .other,
would let me-1t•hiiik I sh•,uld be tempt-
ed to give it up, . s one gives np other
puzzles, when one is beaten by them."
Derrick looked at hila, forgetting him-
self in a sudden sympathetic comprehen-
sion.
"You have been more than ordinarily
discouraged to lay," he said. "What it
it, Grace
"Do you know Satumy Craddo.ck, '
was the reply.
"'Owd Sammy Craddock' " said Der-
rick with a laugh. -"Wasn't it '01w•.1
Sammy', who was talking to me to-tiay
about Joan Lowrie ?"
"I daresay it was," sighing. "And if
you know Sammy Craddock, you know.
one of the principal causes of my dis-
couragenent. I went to see him this
afternoon, and I hare not quite—quite
g' t ..ver it, in fact."
Derrick's interest in his friend's trials
was stirred u usual at the, first sigual of
distress. It was the part of his stronger
and more evenly balanced nature to hot
constantly ready with generous sympathy
and c.•mfort.
"it has struck tee." he said, "that
Craddock is one .4 the in.eieatiome of
Riggan. I shooks like to hear some-
thing definite concerning him. Why is
he your principal cause of discourage-
ment. in the first place r
"Bemuse he is the ran of all ethers
iwhom it is hard for me to deal with,—
because he is the shrewdest, the meet
irreverent and the most disputations old
fellow in Riggan. And yet, in the face
of all this, beoanse he is so often right,
that I am forced into a sort of respect
for him."
"Right!" repeated Derrick. raising
lilt eyeMv w• "'That's had
err<t, tactless, self-sufficient per -
:le had had taken up his work with a
c••mpiacent feeling that no field of labor
could fail to be henetitted by his patron-
,
age
atr n -
age ; he was centent now as always. Hes
- had been content with himself and his
iwte'1lecjual progress at Oxford : he had
been c'ntenp,,with his first latrish ori Ash-
le'y-ivI le : he had been centenl then
with the steak -natured, soft-spoken
Kentish men and women, he had *ever
1 feared finding himself une.1val t,. the
guidance cif their souls, and he was not
at all trouble.' by the prospect Riggan
presented to him.
"It is a different ,sort of thing," he said
1 t•. his curate, in the best of spirits, "sand
new. to us-- new of course ; but we'aha l
get ever that—we shall get over that esti-
; ily enouuh, grace." - e.
Si. with not a eha.l..w of doubt as to j
his speedy success, and with a comfort- i sir;
'able confidence in ecclesiastical power, in
soh •:us .cs er Vested, he called upon his
parishioners one after the other. He
1 appeared at their cottages nt all hours,
and gave the same greeting to each of
.,1 the:n. He wee their new rector, and
having come to Riggan with the inten-
tion of doing them gate, and improving
their moral condition, he intended to do
them good, and improve them, in spite of
themselves. They meet come to church;
it was thcdr business to come to church,
ea it was his hnsine-.s to preach the gos-
pel. All this implied. in half an hour's
4halt-ertan.lty, halt-ieciesiailicaT, einver-
sation, garnished with a few favourite
I texts and religious platitudes, and the
do
manne feltitwetha
llt he had done his duty, and
Only one man nonplussed hint, and ev-
! en this man's ®Reef upon him was teus-
I .vary, only listing as I ng as his cell.
He had been met with a d..ttged resent-
; meat in the majority of his visits, but
when be eneneutered "ter I Sammy Crsd-
dock,- he enaumteved a difetwnt intt of
i opp..sitinn.
Aye," easel oved Sammy, "an' so
tha'rt th' new rector, art tai I thowt
as mach as another ud spring up as scion
as th' ewd on war cut down. Tha per-
' eons is a nettle as dnnnnt soon dee not. t
' Well, Tll leave thee to th' uwd lass here.
Hoo's a rare en far gab when hot, tido
th' notion, an' I'm noun M mirth i' th'
humour t' argnfy mysen to day." And
he took his pipe from the mantle ieoe
and strolled nut with an imperturbable
air