Litchfield enquirer., 1877-01-18

A feeting color touched her cheeks She nodded to him encouragingly. It was all he could do to keep calm, and he went out into the street with blurred eyes and faltering step. Yet he thought he should see her again in ten, fifteen minutes-at the utmost little half hour.
 | He walked on with quick. step, hold T ing his head high, looking neither to the right nor the left. Many passer by no- ticed his preoccupied, agitated manner, and spoke of 1t afterward, as people will, twisting and distorting every thing into damnatory evidence against the accused. The money was paid over to him without question, the party counting out the three thousand dollars no doubt busy in his mind as to what speculation that red haired, high-nosed young woman was < about entering into; but he made no re. mark, and Matthew put the money in his pocket, where already lay that little treas ure of blue ribbon, and went on his way to that red-haired, high-nosed damsel, whistling softly as he went, for the first time in years.
 I But.he had scarcely gone third of the way when he saw his uncle Obadiah com ing up the street with one of their old townsmen by the name of Dobson-a lounging. shiftless fellow who had lately been appointed policeman under the new law.
 His uncle Obadiah was given to con- sorting, with all classes of people, and he walked by the side of this fellow with the same shuff1ing and sly demeanor that he bore with the squire of the parish. Matthew, with a slight salutation, l would have passed quickly on, congratu- lating himself that Obadiah was we'll out of the way for time, but he felt the hand of his uncle on his arm.
 "We1l walk together, Said the old man. "Come," he continued, leaving his com panlon and leaning heavily upon Mat thew's arm, "we'll go down by the dam where people won't be listenin': want word with you"
 Obadiah was not wont to consult his nephew in anything, and Matthew's cour- age was shaken when they reached the mill. His eyes instinctively avoided the mallcions twinkling ones of his uncle, and he shook himself free from that clutch of his skinny hand. A dim horror began to penetrate him. The noise of the wa- ter falling from the wheel, the wheel it. | self, became phantom of dread to his imagination. It reminded him somehow of drowning creature holding up it's dripping arms in terror and supplication.
 ''l take it, Matthew" began his uncle, "that you'll be reasonable; you've gener- ally found out pretty quick on which side your bread IS buttered You needn't look as If you were going to be hung For | some wise reason or other the devil is let have his agents here on the earth, and you seem to be pretty good help o'hisn. You're in luck, young man. If you be- have right, I'll do the fair thing by you; If you don't, you've no one but yourself to blame. l happened to be on tue oth- CT side of the hedge this mornin' when you had that little talk with Elizabeth" "
 Matthew did not even start. He knew 1t all now, but he shuddered, and said,
 ''Yes, I saw you"
 'Hum-you did?" continued Obadiah. and early to rlse,' you know, that's my motto; and Elizabeth she's chip O the old block; ain't she? She's got a long head, has Elizabeth, and cool, calcula- tin brain, hain't she. now?"
 "Go on!' said Matthew. fercely; Ego on! What do you want with me?"
 prosscats y1a aTaVlsd as 3sad!ah J might confessed you stole the money"
 II took what was mine" said Matthew, his face in blaze of passion. "My grandfather had no right to leave you my mothers share. I won't be called by that name-be careful what you say"
 ''It's my way" said Obadiah, ito call that takes what aint belongin' to him is a thief-hold keep back there! I'd like to say that up yonder on the bank is an old friend, Dobson. He's got handcuffs in his pocket, and all them little things that are in his line o'business. He hain't had much to do lately, and it s no more'n right he should be ready when he's call ed. Perhaps 1 may want him, and, ag'in, l mayn't. Now see here. I'll give you your chice. young man: you can take that there money that you've got in your pocket-that three thousand dollars of Elizabeth's - and you can clear off with it, get to the devil if you like, but don't let me see or hear of you ag'in, me or mine Hark ye, young man, it'll be a short shrift if ye do. I'll haul you up; I'll hunt you down;I'll take the furtherest end of the law on you. Them white fn- gers O yourn hev been mighty free lately; they ain't satisfied with takin' my money they must prowl around my da'ter!'
 And here the heat in the old mans eyes rivaled the blaze in Matthews
 ''Take your ch'ice, and take it quick, young man-your freedom, the world before you to play the devil in. and that three thousand dollars of Elizabeth's you've got in your pocket there, or jail, striped shirt, shaven head, and cell"
 Matthew sank down upon the grass. His head fell upon his hands. He was too sick and sad even to be angry any more. It was all over; he had lost all, as he had, perhaps, we'll deserved-hope for the future, redemption for the past. It was gone forever, that impossible phan- tom of faith and tenderness and ineffable charity in which he had dared to trust,
 He got upon his feet, and pulling the bills from his pocket, put them in Oba- djah's hand. The bit of blue ribbon fell from his trembling fingers, but he picked 1t up and put 1t back in his pocket again. Then he turned to Obadiah.
 ''See here, old man," he said, ''there is Elizabeth's money. Take it back to her; she's waiting for it now" Here his voice shook, and the muscles of his face twitched with an irrepressible agony. 'Tell her, he said. sit was all useless all her sweet womanly mercy; but tell her too-do your hear?-that because of that mercy I'll do the best I can. I'll try to wipe 1t all out, for her sweet sake, and then I'll come back, and not till then. Say, will you tell her that9 or shall do it? swear to you that in spite of you or Dobson I'll walk up the street there to Elizabeth. I'll risk everything rather than she shall lose faith in me. May I depend on you?" sa a.
 ''Y-yes," stammered Obadiah; ''you may reckon on my doin' what's right
 :'Swear that you will; swear by-O gra- cions heaven! what is there sacred to the soul of this old man?-swear by Elizabeth herself, as you hope to hold her love or favor, you'll deal fairly by me in this one way"
 And the old man swore. His face quivered like a shaken piece of parch- ment, and voice was but a whisper, but he swore. Then Matthew strode away, and in all the weary years that followed, a water-wheel was spectre of dread to him and that thorny brake. that bank of tend crest green, fecked with buttercups and