The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1874-04-16

Il can drag in the bed before 90, if you
think you car manage to get in.
"Are you going to Branchley to-daya
asked Mr.. Stokes.
Eyes, I've got the last FIVE shillipgs I
shall have in this world. There amt
nothin more now, unless they take me
and wish they would, and make an end
| OF it.
"Come, come. keep up your courage.
Things are never so bad they can't mend.
I'll send my daughter and bit of som p
thing for you, and we mnst see what can
be done. I'd no notion you were in this
state Come now don't give way just
light bit of fire in that front parlor.
That's all you've got to do. Light bit
of fire."
He hurried away with an uneasy coz
science and feeling that somebody was
to blame, and people ought not to be left
TO starve, and left Mary looking after him
with dream-feelipg strong upon her.
She seemed now to hear what he said
while he was speaking, and then all the
words came back afterwards when she
had ceased to try and listen.
Now as she listened to the gig-wheels
on the road, the words Light bit OF
fire" sounded in her ears, and she knelt
mechanically before the parlor stove, and
took away the faded Incorporation
worthless even to burn. CAT the back of
the old Downshire stove there was in
those days what used to be called an ash
hole, into which, during the summer, lit
tie odds and ends of withered flowers and
rubbish OF all kinds would be thrown.
She pulled them out, and was about to
carry them away in her apron, when a
bit of crumpled paper attracted her at,en-
ton. AS she touched 1t she felt the sick
ness of expectation and anticipation
which she knew so we'll, aud which had
been followed by so many bitter disap-
pointneuts. She unfolded the paper
and amoothed it out, and then deadly
pallor spread over her face, great drops
of sweat started from her brow, and slow
~ trickelsd down. She could not speak
or move. but knelt before the fire. place
holding by the bars of the CRATE. On a
sudden the blood seemed to leap back
into her heart She started to her feet,
and without uttering word' rushed out
of the house.
The Holmsdale woods were gay with
primroses and wood anemones: The
sweet-scented early violets were all hid
den among leaves, but the light winds
that swept over them carried their odors
afar. Long catkins hung from the hazel,
and under the lines there was brilliant
carpet of small crimson petals. for the
buds had burst through their winter COW
erings, which lay thickly strewn on the
ground. The yew trees were in blossom,
and the slightest touch sent forth cloud
of golden dust the great buds of the
horse-chestnuts had burst through their
resinous sheath, and were rapidly up-
folding delicate tan-like leaves. Mary,
as she hurried onward, turning her head
rapidly from side to side. was not
attracted by the color and odor around
her. The outward senses were vigilant,
and seemed TO be obserYant but she
could not even have told yon that she
was In wood, for the connecting links
between observation and intelligence
seemed to have been snapped asunder.
She stumbled and fell more than once
over projecting logs and stones upon
which her eyes were fixed, and rose aud
went on unobservant of scratches aud
bruises Thus she passed along the high
road, looking among the trees as the song
of the nightingale fell upon her ear, and
yet unconscious Of the sound. She enter
ed the town of Brenchley, and made her
way mechanically through the crowd that
filed the streets on market day; Reach
ing The County Court, where she was
now we'll known, she walked. not to the
seat usually occupied, but to the desk of
the clerk who sat at the table beneath
the Judge. She stretched her handout
over this mans head, and holding the pa
per toward the Judge, strove in vain to
speak. Her tongue. dry and parched