The Hancock Jeffersonian. [volume] (Findlay, Ohio) 1857-1870, 1865-12-01
HOPE RASHLEIGH.
Which was the Thief.

ing, but when he returned, he had
only one bird in his bag; though
game was plentiful this year, and he
was acknowledged to be first-rate
shot. His cousin, John Rashleigh,
rallied him numerically, and Hope
said in her most disdainful way: IL
thought the coveys would be tolera.
bly, safe, Mr.. Watts ~ But he only
laughed, and admitted that he was a
muf and not worth his salt-that
powder and lead were literally thrown
away on him-and that he would
make but sorry figure in India,
where men could shoot-with other
.ieerings playful or bitter as they
might be, simply saying: "Well Miss
Hope, you must have it some morn
ing when l am gone; it is the last /
shall shoot, and l should like you to
have it."
To which Hope answered indin'er-
emily: "You are very good, Grant
ley, but dare say Fido will be the
only one to benefit by our last bag !;
l do not suppose l shall even see the
creature"
Grantley colored, and Mr.. Rash
leigh himself thought she might have
been more gracious just on the eve
of the poor lads departure, when
perhaps they might never see him
again; and after all, though he was
a poor relation, and had very proba-
bly, never forgotten that, or gone be-
yond the strictest line of demarca-
tion, yet he had been many years in
the house now, and Hope was very
young when he came, so that il she
had considered him almost Il brother,
no great harm would have been done,
and so on; his heart unconsciously
pleading against hls child's uptoward
pride in favor OF his dependent.
Perhaps it was some such half dis
comiort-it could not be said to be
conscious displeasure II that made
him refuse Hopes request that even
ing. AS usual she was out of funds;
and she had special need for money
at this moment. She wished to help
poor Ann Rogers, down in the fc-
yer, with her husband in the hospit-
al, and her children destitute, and
she knew her father would not give
them a penny; for the man had
been convicted of poaching, and An.
ME herself, did not bear the most un-
blemished character, and had seen
the inside of the county Jail mere
than once in her lifetime. But these
counter .pleadings did not influence
Hope; and she thought only of the
suffering family, which she could
help, and would, if she had the mon
ey. Then she wanted to make Grant
ley present before he went away,
and she did not want her father to
know of it; though she would have
been puzzled to explain why she
wished such a trivial matter kept Sc
cret. She had never given him any
thing, not even flower, not even q
book; and lie was almost the only
person within her sphere so passed
over; but now when he was going to
leave forever, she would give him
something that would make him think
OF her when he was away. Poor,
proud Hope, came at last to this.
She knew that her father had mon
ey in the house, when she went into
the library to speak to him; for she
saw him put twenty pound note in
his desk yesterday, which was the
sum she wanted, and indeed was on
the point of asking for it then. She
would have got it had she done so;
but to-day the vane had shifted, and
tor the first time in his life he refused
her, and so sternly and positively,
that, as much in surprise rs in anger,
she gave up the point at once. But
with a sudden flash Of pride and de-
termination on her face, which he
did not see, sitting as he was towards
the light while she stood in the shad-
ow. And then she left the room in
stately silence; too proud to coax
even her father, after a refusal so
harshly made though, had she )ax.
ed him as Hope could when she chose,
the whole thing would have been at
an end, and John RasLleigh would
have yielded. She was but Il spoiled
child, remember, whose faults had
been fostered by the injudicious
training Of her life.
The distress of poor Annie Rog-
ers pressed upon her. Unused to
opposition, and in a mood more than
ordinarily excitable, everything be-
came exaggerated, and she laid awake
during the night in state bordering
upon mania, feeling herself to be-
coward and murderess, in not exc
cutting the righteousness of will, and
taking from her father what he would
not, but ought to freely give. Was
not humanity before mere obedience?
Was she to let fellow creature die
rather than take what could be spar
ed so well, and what she had right
to demand? Yes, By right, her
fathers money was hers as well, if
not by law, yet by moral justice, and
if lie made a cold and churlish stew
ard, it was her duty to supply his
defects, and to let the poor benefit
by his superhuities. All the wild
reasonings of a wiliul mind aiding
the impulse of a generous heart pass
ed through her brain that night, and
when she rose in the morning it was
the determination TO do her own will
and defy her fathers.
John Rashleigh was a magistrate,
and to-day was market day, at Can
stow, the town near which they liv-
ed, where the magistrates always as