HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Signal, 1881-09-30, Page 22 THE HURON SIGNAL FRIDAY, SEPT 30, 1881.
That lass o' Lwrie's
a no., 0311113 tatecaarsas COAL la1l4Z3.
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By F**xrna HODneox Bu'aresrr.
CHAPTER 1I.
List this was not the last of the mat-
ter. The rector went again and again,
cheerfully persisting in bringing the old them. Though pretty and foul looking
sinner to • proper SWISS of his iniquities.
There would teatriumph in con. enough there was no suggestion . help-
mselle la about her. When she was safe-
ly seated in the cab, she spoke to Det-
rick through the open window.
"If you will come to the Rectory to-
night, and let papa thank you," she
said, "we shall all be very glad. Mr.
Grace will be there, you know, and I
have a great many questions t.' ask which
you must be able to answer.'
Merrick went back to his work, think-
ing about Miss Barholm, of course. She
was different from other girls, he felt,
not only in her fragile frame and deli-
cate face, but with another inure subtle
and leu wady defined difference. There
WS,. a suggestion of the development
in a child of the soul of a woman.
rnimiery which made him so popular a IGoing down to the mine, Derrick
character. As Derrick had said, Sem- found on approaching that there was
my Craddock was a Riggan institution. I some commotion among the workers at
'In his youth his fellows had feared his I the ita mouth, and before he turned in -
strength; in his old age they feared kis ! w his Ace, he paused upon the thresh -
wit. "Let l)wd Sammy tackle him, hold for a few minutes to see what it
they said, when a new comer was dispu- meant. But it was not a disturbance
tatious, and hard to manage; " Owd
Sammy'll fettle him—graidely." And
the fact was that Craddock'■ cantanker-
ous sharpness of brain and tongue were
usually efficacious. So he "tackled"
Barholm, and so he "tackled" the cu-
rate. But, for some reason, he wait
never actually bitter against Grace. He
some mysterious chalice or other, her th' poor wench, andel him if he weld
lettere to her friends had not preceded get bet a bit o' work as 'ud help to keep
her, se these was no carriage in watuig, her honest."
and but for Derrick she would have been Derrick looked at her handsome face
thrown entirely upon her .own resources. gravely, curiously.
But after their mutual introduction the "I saw you defend this girl against
tarst(were friends at once, sod before he some of her old con ions, a new hours
btediput her taw the cab, Derrick had ; ago, I believe," he sed.
begun to understand what it was that led She coloured, but did not return his
the Reverend Pau) to think her an es- glance.
oeptluual girl. She knew where her "I dunnot believe in harryin' women
trunks wen, and was quite definite upon do!1i th' hill," ahs said. e`
the subject of what must be done with 'ten suddenly she raised her eyes
••Th' tittle un is a tittle leas," she said
"an' I canna bide th' thowt o what
mosght fa' on her if her mother's life is
ea an honest un— I canna bide the thowt
oe u..'
"I will see my friend to -night," sed
Derrick, "and I will speak to him.
Where can he find the girl f'
some
verting such a veteran as Sammy Crad-
dock, and be wsa confident of winning
this laurel for hin.a.lf. But the result
was scarcely what he had expected.
"Owd Sammy" stood his ground like an
old soldier. The fear of man was not
before his eyes,and"parsons"were his fay -
',rite game. He was as contumacious and
profane as such men are apt to be, and
he delighted in scattering his clerical an-
tagonists as a task worth/ of his mettle.
He encountered the Reverend Harold
with positive glee. He jeered at him in
public, and sneered at fun in private,
and held him up to the mockery of the
colder men and lads, with the dramatic
with which it was easy for'an outsider to
interfere. A knot of women drawn
away frum their work by some prevail.
ing excitement, were gathered together
around a girl—e pretty but pale and
haggard creature, with a helpless despair-
ing face—who stood at bay in the midst
spoke of him lightly, but rather sneered of then, clasping a child to her bosom—
spoke
his physical insignificance; but he did a target for all its owns. It wasy a wretched
sight, and told story.
not hold him up to public ridicule. "Wheer ha' yo' been, Liz !" Derrick
"I fav' not quite settled i' my moind heard two or three voices exclaim at
about th' little chap," he would say sen- once. "What did you coon back fur
tentiously to his admirer.. "He's own This is what thy handsome face has
siccan a foo' as th' owd un, for he's a
grsidely foo', he is, and nu mistake. At bn,wt tthe tis, is it ?"
any rate, a little fou' is better nor a big And then the girl, white, wild-eyed
And there the matter stood. Against
these tremendous odds Grace fought—
against coarse and perverted natures,
—worse than all, against the power that
should have been ranged upon his side.
And adied to these discouragementa,
were the obstacles of physical delicacy,
and an almost morbid conscientiousness.
A man of coarser fibre might have borne
the burden better—or at least with leu
pain to himself.
"A drop or so of Barholm's blood in
and breathless with excitement, turned
on them, panting, bursting into pas-
sionate tears.
"Let me a -be:" she cried, sobbing.
"There's none of yo' need to talk. Let
me a -be ! I dinna corm back to ax
nowt fro' none one you ? Eh Joan ! Joan
Lowrie !"
Derrick turned to ascertain the mean-
ing of this cry of appeal, but almost be-
fore he had time to do•so, Joan herself
had borne down upon the group; she
had pushed her way through it, and was
standing in the centre. confronting the
Grace's veins," said Derrick, communing girl's tormentors in a game of wrath,
with himself on the Knoll Road after and Liz was clinging to her.
their interview—"a few drops of Bar -
"What ha' they been sayin' to yo',
holmle rich, comfortable, stupid blood in i lass T' she demanded. "Eh ! but yo're
Grace's veins would not harm him. And a brave lot, yu' are—women yo's ea'
yet it would have to be but a few drops I yo•rsens !—badgerin a slip o' a wench
indeed," hastily. "On the whole I loike this."
think it would be better if he had more I sapid na nom back to ax nowt fro'
blood of his own." ; noan o' the.n," sobbed the girl. "I'd
The following day Miss Barholm came. rather dee ony day nor oto it ' I'd ray-
Buraineas had taken Derrick to the ata- ther starve i' th ditch—an it's cumin' to
tion in the morning, and being delayed, that."
he was standing upon the platform when
one of the London trains came in.
There were generally so few passengers
on such trains who were likely to atop
at Riggan, that the few who did so were
of some interest to the bystanders. Ac-
cordingly he stood gazing, in rather a
preoccupied fashion, at the carriages,
when the door of a first-class compart-
ment opened, and a girl stepped out up-
on the platform near him. Before see-
ing her fare one might have imagined
her to be a child of scarcely more than on yo.Some on yo'a gegen th' loike at
fourteen or fifteen. This was Derrick's 'shown. An' when yo've looked at th'
first impression; but when she turned choild, look at th' mother ! Seventeen
toward him he saw at once that it was year owd, Liz is, an' th' world's gone
not a child. .And yet it was a small wrong wi' her. I wunnot say u th•
face, with delicate oval features, smooth, worlds gunp ower reet wi' ony on w;
clear, and stray hocks of hazel brown but them on us as has had th' strength
hair that fell over the low forehead. She to howd up agen it, need na set our foot
had 'evidently made a journey of some on them se has gone down. Happen
length, for she was encumbered with theer's na so much to choose betwixt us
travelling wraps, and in her hands she after aw. But I've gotten this to tell
held a little flower -pot containing a clus- yo' --them as has owt to say ." Liz, mun
ter of early blue violet.,—such violets
say it to Joan Lowrie !"
as would not bloom so far north as Rig- Rough, and coarsely pitiless as the
gan for weeks to come. She stood upon majority of them were, she had touched
the platform for a moment or so, gime- the right chord. Perhaps the bit of the
ing up and dawn as if in search of some dramatic in her championship of the
one, and then plainly deciding girl, had as much to do with the success
that the object of her quest had not ass- of her half-comnianding appeal u any -
rived, she looked at Derrick in s busi- thing else. But at least, the most
Hess -like, questioning way. She was hardened of them faltered before her
going to speak to him. The next minute I daring, scornful word., and the fire in
she stepped forward without a shadow her face. Liz would be safe enough
of girlish hesitation. from them henceforth, it was plain.
"May 1 trouble you to tell mo where That evening while arranging his
1 can find a conveyance .of some sort,' papers before going home, Derrick was
she said. "I want to go to the /tee -
celled from his work by a summons at
tory. the office door, and going to open it, he
Derrick uncovered, recognising his found .ban Lowrie standing then, look -
friend's picture at once. ing half -abashed, half determined.
"I think," he said with far more hese-
tansy than she had herself shown, "that i "1 ha.sansei o, at ' she said
this must be Miss Barholm. 1 briefly, declining his invitation to enter
"Yes,- she answered, "Anew /kit* and 1* seated.
eohm. 1 think. she said, "from whoa "if there is anytbeng 1 can do for
Mr. Grace has said to me, that you most bt'ltan Derrick -
thing Y so earnest and euergetie, tW It
is a little bracing- like the atmosphere.
Perhaps -- when the tine cowss --I could
do something to help you with that girl
1 shall try at any rate." She held out
her hated to him with.a snide, and the
Reverend Paul went hwu feeling not a
little comforted and eau, ed.
The Rector stuud with he back to the
?bre, his portly person exprasing intense
estiafsction.
"You will remind me about that
young woman III the morning, Anice,'
he and. 1 should like to attend to the
matter myself. Singular that Grace
should not have mentioned her before.
It really seems to me, you know, that
now and then Grace is a httlo deficient
In interest, or energy."
"Surely not interest, my dear,"
suggweed Mn. Barholm, gently.
•• i rete, she answered. "1'm taken "Well, well," conceded the Rector,
both on em whoam wt' Ina" "perhaps not interest, but energy or—
or appreciation. I should have seen
each a fine creatuie's superiority, and
mentioned it at once. She must be a
TUB RZYSILSXl, HARULO LIOLSOLSI. fine creature. A young woman of that
kind should be encouraged. I will go
and see her in the morning—if it were
not so late I would go now Really, she
ought to be told that she has exhibited a
very excellent spirit, and that people
approve of it. I wonder what sort of a
household servant she would stake if she
were properly trained f"
"That would not do at all," put in
Athos decisively. "From the pit's
mouth to the kitchen would not be a
natural transition"
"Well, well," as usual, "perhaps you
are right. There is plenty of time to
think of it, however. We can judge
better when we have seen her."
He did not need reminding in the
morning. He was as full of vague plans
for Joan Lowrie when he arose as he
had been when he went to bed. He
came down to the charming breakfast -
room in the most sanguine of moods.
But then his moods usually were san-
guine. It was scarcely to be wondered
at, Fortune had treated him with great,
suavity from his earliest years. Well-
born, comfortably trained, healthy and
easy -natured, the world had always
turned its pleasant side to him. As a
gutting man, he had been a strong, hand-
some fellow, whose convenient patrim-
ony had placed him beyond the posaibility
of entire dependence upon his profeasion.
When a curate he had been well enough
paid and without private responsibilities;
when he married he was lucky enough to
win a woman who added to his comfort;
in fact, life had gone smoothly with him
for so long that he had no reason to sus-
pect Fate of any intention to treat him
ill-naturedly. It was far more likely
that she would reserve her scurvy tricks
for some one else.
Even Riggan had not perplexed him
at all. Its difficulties were not such as
would be likely to disturb him greatly.
One found ignorance, and vice, and dis-
comfort among the lower classes always;
there was the same thing to contend
against in the agricultural as in the
mining districts. And the Rectory was
substantial and comfortable, even pictur-
esque. The house was roomy, the gar-
den large and capable of improvement;
there were trees in abundance, ivy on
the walls, and Anice would do the rest.
The breakfast -nom looked specially en-
couraging this morning. Anice, in a
pretty pale blue gown, and with a few
crocuses at her throat, awaited his com-
ing behind the handsomest of silver and
porcelain, reading his favourite news-
paper the while. Her little pot of emi-
grant violets exhaled a faint, spring-like
odour from their sunny place at the
window; there was a vase of corcuses,
snowdrops and ivy leaves in the centre
of the table; there was sunahine outside
and oomfort in. The Rector had a good
appetite and an unimpaired digestion.
Anice rose when he entered and touched
the bell
"Mamma's headache will keep her up-
stairs fur a while," she said. "She told
me we were not to wait for her." And
then she brought him he newspaper and
kissed him dutifully.
"Very glad to see you horns again, I
am sure, my dear," remarked the Rec-
tor. "i have really missed you very
much. What excellent coffee this is !—
another cup if you please." And, after
a pastae --
"I think really, you know," he pro-
ceeded, "that you will not find the
place unpleasant. after all. Fir my
part, 1 think it is well enough— for such
a place; one cannot expect Belgravian
popish in Lancashire miners, and cer-
tainly one does not meet with it; but it
is well to make the best of things. i
get along myself reasonably well with
the people. I do not encounter the
difhulties (:race complains of."
"Does he complain r asked Anice;
"I did not thunk he exactly complain -
"Grace ►s t',o eaatly discouraged, • ans-
wered the Rector in off -handed explana
tion. "And he is apt to make blenders.
He speaks of. and to, these peep!. as if
they were of the sane fibre as himself.
be his fnend. " It a na m sen, ' she interrupted him. Derru k wet always reminded h ti
' 7 P - y 7 He does not take fol l of thinks He is
"1 an ,..ie .1 (;race s friends," he our "Then is • poor lass as l'm fain to help, the shadow on .tnice's face. deficient in courage He means well,
sw.red, "Fergee Derrick." if L could do it, but f ha not th' power "1 want to tell you wmiething, Mw but he le not good at reading character.
she manage* to fro one d het small i dunnot know of any on. as has, el f(arholm said this evening to (uses at
hands, and held it nut t., hit. eept vn'reen and th' parson, an 1 know porting "1 do not think 1 am afraid of
She heti arrired earlier than had been !more o' yo' than 1 do o' the parson, r, 1 Riggan at all i think i shall like it all
eperted. it tanned cwt, and through thnwt 1'd et 7,, to speak t" hint ab,,tit the better 1w.caUM it ,s nee teen.
CHAPTER II1.
When the Reverend Paul Grace en-
tered the parlor at the Rectory, he found
that his friend had arrived before him.
Mr. Barholm, his wife and Anice, with
their guest, formed a group around the
fire, and Grace saw at a glance that Der-
rick had unconsciously fallen into the
place of the centre figure.
He was talking andtheothen were lis-
tening—Mr. Barholm in his usual rest -
leu fashion, Mrs. Barholm with evident
interest, Anice leaning forward on her
ottoman listening eagerly.
"Ah exclaimed Mr. Barholm, when
the servant announced the visitor, "this
is fortunate. Here is Grace. Glad to see
you, Grace. Take a seat. We are talk-
ing about an uncommonly interesting
case. I daresay you know the young
woman.
Anice looked up.
"We are talking about Joan Lowrie,"
she said. "Mr. Derrick is telling us
about her.
"Most interesting affair—from be-
ginning to end," continued the Rector
briskly. "Something must be done for
the young woman. We must go and see
her. --1 will go and see her myself."
He had caught tire at once, in his
usual inconsequent, self -secure style.
Ecclesiastical patronage would certainly
set this young woman right at once.
There was no doubt of that. And who
was so well qualified to bestow it as him-
self 1
'Yes, yes ! I will go myself, ' he
said. "That kind of people is easily
managed. when once one understands
them. Then really is some good in
them after all. Yon see, Grace, it is as
I have told you—only understand them,
and make them understand you, and the
rest is easy."
Derrick glanced from father to daugh-
ter. The clear eyes of the girl rested on
the man with a curious expression
"Do you think," she said quickly,
"that they like us to go and see them in
that sort of way, papa ? Do you think
it is wise to remind them that we know
more than they do, and that if they want
to learn they must learn from us, just
"Here," said Juan, "gi' in. the because we have been more fortunate 1 It
choild." really seems to me that the rebellious
She bent down and took it from her, ones would aak themselves what right
and thea stood up before them a11, hold- we had to be more fortunate."
ing it high in her strong arms—so au- "My dear," returned the Rector,
perb, so statuesque, and yet so woman- somewhat testily—he was not partial to
ly a figure, that a thrill shot throegb the interposition of obstacles even in
the heart of the man watching her. suggestion—"My dear, if you had been
"Lanes," she cried her voice fairly brought into contact with these people
ringing, "do y'o' see this 1 A bit o' a a closely a I have, or even as Grace has,
helpless thing as canna answer back you would learn that they are not prone
pore jeers ! Aye ! look et it well, aw to regard things from s metaphysical
standpotni. Metaphysics are not in
their line. They are more apt to look
upon life as a matter.of bread and bacon
than as a problem."
' A shadow fell upon Anice's face, and
before the visit ended, Derrick had ob-
served its presence more than once. It
was always her father who summoned it,
he noticed. And yet it was evident
that she was fond of the man, and in no
ordinary degree, and that the affection
was mutual. As he was contented with
himself, so Barholm was contented with
his domestic relations. He was fond of
his wife, and fond of his daughter, as
much, perhaps, through his appreciation
of hit own good taste in wedding such a
wife, and becoming the father of such a
daughter, as through his appreciation of
their pec'_liar charms. He was proud of
them and indulgent to them. They re-
flected acredit on him of which he felt
himself wholly deserving.
"They are aery fond of him," re-
marked (trace afterward to his friend;
"whi•'h shows that there must be • great
deal of virtue in the man. Indeed then
is a great deal of virtue in him. Yore
yourself, Derrick, must have observed a
certain kindliness and- - and open gener-
osity," with a wistful sound in his voice
There was always this wistful appeal
in the young manii tone when he spoke
of his clerical master -a certain a xiety
to make the hest ed him, and minis
from any suspicion of e' ndemnetion,
"I file hint," said Anice. "He will
help Mr. 1:nce often.'
"Grace needs a supp.•rt of wine kind,'
returned Mr. Ilarholm, frowning slight-
ly, "and he loots not seem to rely very
touch upon Ile --itot a, touch as 1 would
wish. I don't quite uuderstat.d him at
times: the fact is, it has struck use once
or twice that he pr•etet-red to take he
own path, instead of following mine.'
•
Papa," commented Amer, "1 scarce-
ly think he is t.• blame for that. 1 am
sure it is always best, that conacieutious,
thinking people—and Mr. (plus is a
thiuking nun—should have paths of
their own."
Mr. Barholm pushed his hair fnem hie
forehead. His own obstinacy confront-
ed him sometimes through Aitioe, in a
finer, more baffling font.
"Grace is a young man, buy dear, he
said, "and—and not a very among-mnuf-
ed one."
"I cannot believe that is true,. aril
Anice. "I do not think we can blame
his mind. It is his body that Is not
strong. Mr. Grace hirnselt has more
power than you and Im iiia and myself
all put together."
One of Anioe's peculiarities was a cer-
tain pretty sententiousness, which,, but
for its innate refinement and its ■uicrri•
ty, might have impressed people as be-
ing a fault. When she pushed her el. -
position in that steady, innocent way,
Mr. Barholm always took refuge behind
an infer conscieusnees which "knew
better," and was fully satisfied on the
point of its own knowledge.
When breakfast was over, he rose
from the table with the air of a inan who
had business on hand. Anice r.ose too,
and followed to the hearth.
"You are going out, i supper," she
said.
"I am going to see .Lan Lowrie," he
said complacently. "And I have sever-
al calla to make besides. shall I tell the
young wulttan that you will call on
her ?"
Anice looked down at the foot she
had placed on the shining rim of the
steel fender.
"Joan Lowrie 1" she said reflective-
ly.
"Certainly, my dear. I should think
it would please the girl to feel that we
were interested in her.'
"I should scarcely think —from what
Mr. Grace and his friend say—that she
is the kind of girl to lie reached in that
way," arid Anice.
The Rector shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear," he answered. "If we are
always do depend upon what Grace says,
we shall often find ourselves in a dilem-
ma. If you are going to wait until
these collier young women call on you
after the manner of polite society. I am
afraid you will have time to lose interest
in them and their affairs."
He had no scruples of his own on the
subject of his errand. He felt very
comfortable as usual, as he wended his
way through the village towards Lew.
re's
w -
re's cottage, on the Knoll Riad. He
did not ask himself what he should say
to the collier young woman and her un-
happy charge. Orthodox phrases with
various distinct flavours—the flavour ..1
reproof, the flavour of cuns..lation—were
always ready with the inan; he never
found it necessary to prepare them be-
forehand. The flavour of approval was
to be Joan's portion this morning; the
flavour of rebuke her companion's. Re
passed down the street with ecclesiasti-
cal dignity, Bestowing a cuff, but not un -
amiable word of recognition here and
there. Unkempt, ditty -faced children,
playing hop -scotch or marbles on the
flag pavement, looked up at him with a
species of awe, not unmingled with sec-
ret resentment; women louring nn door-
steps, holding babies on their hips, star-
ed in critical sullenness as he went by.
"Theer's th' owd parson," commented
one sharp-tongued matron "Hoo's
goin' to teach some one summit 1 war-
rant. What th' owd lad dunnot know
is ns worth knowin.' Eh'. huo's graide-
ly fon', that hoo is. Our Tommy, if the
dont na let Jane Ann be, tha'lt be get -
tin' s hidin'. " .
Unprepossessing as most of the col-
liers' homes were, Lowrie's cottage was
a trifle less inviting than the majority.
It stood upon the roadside, an ugly little
bare place, with a look of stubborn de-
solation, its only redeeming feature a
certain rough cleanlinesa. The same
cleanliness reigned inside, Barholm
served when he entered; and yet on the
whole there was a stamp upon it which
made it a place scarcely to be approved
of. Before the low fire sat it girl with a
child on her knee, and this girl, hearing
the visitor's footsteps, got up hurriedly,
and met him with a half -abashed, half -
frightened look on her pale face.
"Lowrie is na here, an' neyther is
Joan," she said, without waiting for hum
to speak. "Roth on 'em's at th' pot
Theer a ne one here hut one,' and ah
held the baby over her shoulder, as i
she would like G, have hidden it.
Mr. 1Rarholm walked in serenely, .air
that he ought to he welcome, if he wer
not
"At the pit, are they e' he answered
"Dor me ' 1 might have remembersi
that they would he at this time Vt'ell
well.] will take a seat, my girl, and talk
on you a little. i suppose yen know me
ohs• minister at the shiirch Mr Aar
*spm
h non Ingot ,
t stove hi.,wing an , ...
t norms he wuuldn
That other young fellow now- Derrick,
the engineer --would do twice as well in
hie piece. What do you think of that
rung fellow, by the way. my dear r'
9a.3*a
La, a slender slip .1 a creature, large
eyed and w,e•begone, st..d up before
tion, %taring at biro ine olutely as he
seated hiiuself.
ee
"I I duuuot know nobody much .
now," she stammered. "I—I've tea
away fru' Riggan sin' afore yo' ovum_
if
y„'re tit' new parson, and then she
coloured uervously and became fearfully
conscious .,f her miserable little burden.
"1'v a heerd Joan speak o' tic' young
pars u, she faltered.
Her tiwtor 1..uke•l at her gravely.
What a helpless, childish creature ahs
was, with her pretty face and\her baby,
and her characterless, frightened way.
She was only one of utany--p.. r Lu,
ignorant, emotional, weak, easily lead,
ready to err, unable t., bear the conse-
quences of error, not strung enough to
be resolutely wicked, not strung enough
to be anything in particular, but that
' which her surroundings made her. If
she had been well-born and well brought
up, she would have been a pretty, in-
sipid girl who needed to be taken care
of; as it was, she had •'gone wrung.”
The excellent Rector of St. Michael's felt
that she must be awakened.
••1'ou are the girl Elizabeth 1" he
sand.
'Lisabeth Barues," she answered,
pulling at the heti of her child's small
gnwn, "but folks nivver calla me nowt
built Liz."
visitor pointed to a chair consid•
erately. "Sit down," he said," "I want
to talk to you."
Liz .obeyed him; but her pretty, weak
face told its own story, of distaste and
hysterical shrinking. She let the baby
-lie upon her lap; her fingers were busy
putting up folds of the little grown.
"I dunnot want to be talked to," she
whimpered. •'1 dunnot know u
talk can do folk as is in trouble any
good—an' th' trouble's bad enuw wi' out
talk "
"We roust remember whence the
trouble cornea, answered the minister
"and if the root lies in ourselves, and
springs from our own sin, we most bear
our cross meekly, and carry our sorrows
and iniquities to the fountainhead,
We must ask for grace, and- -and sand
tification of spirit."
"I dunnot know nowt about th' foun-
tain -head," sobbed Liz aggrieved. "I'm
not religious, an' I canna see as such
loike hells fok. No Methody nivver
did nowt for rte when I war i' trouble
an' want, Joan Lowrie is nA a Me-
thoxdy. "
"1f you mean that the young woman
is in an unawakened condition, I am
sorry to hear it," with increased gravity
"f demeanour. "Without the redeem-
ing blood how are we to find peace 1 If
you had clung to the Cross you would
have been spared all this sin and shame.
You must know, my girl, that is," with
a motion toward the frail creature on
her knee, "is a very terrible thing."
Liz buret into piteous sobs—crying
like an abused child—
"I know it's hard enow," she cried;
"I canna get work neyther at th' pit nor
at th factories, u long as I nun drag it
aboui, an' I hi not got a place to lay
my head, on'y this. If it wur not for
Joan, I might starve and th' choild too
But I'm noan so bad u yo'd mak' out.
I-1 wur very fond o' Aim—I wur, an' I
thowt he wur fond o' me, an' he wur a'
gentleman too. He wur no lalwuring
man, an• he wur kind to me, until he
got tired. Them sort anus gets tired o'
yo' i' time, Joan says, I wish I'd ba'
toed Jon at first, an' axed her what to
do.''
flarholm passed his hand through his
hair uneasily. This shallow, inconse-
quent creature balled him. Her shame,
her grief,• her misery, were all mere
straws eddying on the pool of her dis-
comfort. It was not her sin that crush-
ed her, it was the !consequence of it;
hen was not a sorrow, it was a petulant
unhappiness. If her lot had been pros
perms outwardly, she would have felt
no inward pang.
It became more evident to him than
ever that something must be done, and
be applied himself to his task of reform
t., the beat of his ability. But he ex-
hausted his repertory of sonorous phrases
in vain. His grave exhortations only
called forth fresh tears, and a new ele-
ment of resentment; and, to crown a11,
his visit terminated with a diecoorage-
ment of which his philosophy had never
dreamed.
in the midst of his most eloquent re
proof, a shadow darkened the threshold,
and as Liz looked up with the indenta-
tion—"Joan !" a young woman, in pit
girl guise, came in, her hat pushed off
her forehead, her threat true, her bus
tain jacket hanging over her arm. Rhe
' glanced from one to the other question
ingly, knitting het brows slightly at the
sight of Liz's tears, in answer to her
' glance Liz woke gsernlously.
f "it's th' parson, Joan," she said. "H•
conn to talk like th' rest on 'sus an' he
e makes me out too ill to burn."
• Just at that moment the child set ups
fretful cry and Jnan crowed the roono
and took it up to her arms.
1 "Yrs ve Peart th' chnild betwixt yrs'.
' she said, "if rive managed to do Bolsi
else. "
"1 felt it my duty as Reeve of thw
pariah.". etplamed Barholm snen.whs