The morning star and Catholic messenger. [volume] (New Orleans [La.]) 1868-1881, 1868-10-25

The next moment her father opened the
door, in his shirt-sleeves and trousers, hold
ing faring candle.
"You up, Matty ~ he cried. "That's
lucky. Bring US some warm milk, for this
child, dear. It's starving, l think" going
back to the prisoner, who stood leaning
against the wall, holding baby in her
| arms.
The men were used to sights of crime
them and if the child had died then and
there, they would have looked ON it, pro-
baby, as happy deliverance, it was such
wizened, diseased-loo little wretch,
| bearing unmistakable marks of its birth in
vice. But it made Martha sick to look at it
| and its mother, with an underthought of
how coarse and vulgar was the life that
subjected her to such sights and sounds.
The woman had been young and beauti-
full but year or two ago, it might be but
months tell like years on such as she. Yet
her face, under the dirt and tangled hair,
was q latent dewy softness in the brown
teyes, with all their unmeaning glare now.
What ails her 7" Martha whispered to
her father.
1t seemed impossible to her that any
mother could look at a starving child with
so unmoved a face as this; the woman's
limbs, too, were rigid, and her flesh had a
livid, cataleptic tinge.
"Dunno. She's been an taken some drug,
it's likely. Let's have the babby, my girl.
Not Well, bring the milk, Matty may be
she'll feed her."
ct found 'em on Stokes cellar-door,"
said Hoy, lighting his lantern candle, which
had blown out; "heven't got a word out
on her from that minnit till now. May be
she'd tell you what she's tux, miss'' lie adj
led, turning to Martha as he went away.
But the woman only stared blankly in
Martha's face when she questioned her.
Either she would not hear, or there was
some pain here different from any which
had come under the girls ken. So Matty
brought the cup of warmed milk and fed
the child. 1t swallowed like some starving
cub, and when it had done turned its swol-
len eyes on her face with a strange appeal
ing look, she fancied. But she was full of
idle fancies, she knew, tonight; she put
them out of her head and when her father
pushed open the cell-door, and the woman
went in mechanically and stretched herself
on the ragged pallet with the same CLASSY
stare, Matty tried to forget her with the
rest. Did they uot lock up just such
wretches every night
Her father looked grave when he came |
out and turned the key.
"There's somewhat out of the ordinary
the matter with that 'un." he said. ats |
not drink, either. Well, go to bed, Matty. |
What's kept you up in this shivering night,
pet, anyway 7" STOPPING to kiss her.
II Ills laws were lauk anu ulStlaVen, ana |
his shirt patched flannel, her fathers eyes |
were the kindest she had ever known, and |
his smile as tender as woman's. The kiss |
warmed her, and SO did the hearty " God |
bless you, puss Be up early to give me
my coffee in the morning"
Matty turned off, going down the hall.
At the woman's cell she halted q moment.
What if she went in and sat by her to-
night She could persuade her father to
allow it. Only moment she paused, and
then went on to bed.
thee to do, wouldst mot thou have done
it7n
Her chamber, it happened, was over this
cell. She could not drive the woman out
of her mind when she tried, to sleep grew
impatient at herself at last that she could
not. She thought it was only her fancy
then, when, AN hour after, there seemed to
come from the cell below sharp, sudden
cry, breaking out of some depth of pain,
such as she had never dreamed of. 1t must
have been fancy, for starting up and listen
ing, all was silent as the grave, as it had
been before. Yet it terrified her; the
more, as she thought she heard in the cry
a familiar name twice uttered.
"Tut! 1 was asleep. What could she I
know of him7" she muttered, turning her
pillow to ease her aching head.
After that she grew drowsy and quiet,
gazing out through the square uncurtained |
window into the darkness and driving
storm. In after years, looking back to this |