The Jasper weekly courier., 1878-03-22

there you might have seen Il Al night
fall, and long after night-fall, II you had
chanced that way; for hadn't Timothy
told the woman he didn't want IL? and
was he the man 10 demean himself by
removing il after thatP And your Spec
ulafing on the singular stubbornness Of
the human heart would not have been
lessened had you caught sight Of him,
by the Pickering candle in his upper
window, sitting there motionless with
an eye on the gate below. Perhaps he
expected Rebecca back after her gift.
do not know.
"She's one of the town poor, is old
Betsey," said Rebecca, meekly, and had
said il meckly year after year, striving
to allure the vagrant old woman into
feeling at home on the charity list Of the
good towns-folk, and TO rest her aching
old bones in the town poor-house. But
old Betsey was not 70 be trapped.
II one must be poor and ragged, at
least let one have plenty Of fresh-air
leisure, says old Betsey. To be pauper
and drudge both is little too much.
And to be preached to and prayed over
and hedged in right and left, and to
scrub work-house floors and scour work
house knives, all for a bit Of bread
bah! that is all unbearable, says old
Betsey, Struggling her beny shoulders
under her ragged shawl, and setting out
warily on her everlasting tramp. She
Is an incorrigible vagrant, utterly ire
claimable. Perhaps Rebecca thinks q
half-dedged thought like this when she
finds her prey has escaped her and is
fairly on the road ayain.
On the road again, untamable, rag
ged, hungry, and free. She walks at
rapid, uneven pace, her thin shawl fut-
tering in the wind, her untidy slippers
Tapping at her heels. II grows dusk
As she steals along; the road Is dreary
with cloud and shadow. and with
mocking moon that CLEANS out now and
then, dodging vicionsly after this gray
old ghost Of woman fitting below.
There is white object there ahead of
her-something tall and queer, with
round white head. The vagrant swerves
a minute out Of her way, surveying il
furtively. Then she puts forth her
claw-like hand and clutches greedily
Rebecca's sweet, dainty loaf.
Aha what a good providence is here,
All. can it be that Fate should come.
for once in a way, with sweetness and
luxury in her hand for an old pauper,
and night and darkness to deyour ii in
Bewildered with pleasure, old Beisey
hugs the dainty under her faded shawl
There is crash then, as il the heav-
ems were falling; shout that curdles
her thievish blood; rough hand is laid
upon her with vise-like grasp. Law and
justice seem to have come down bodily
upon the marauder; but il is only old
Ware, who has been watching from his \
window. His hand is raised 10 strike
the thief--the thief with vagrant and
vagabond written all over her; in her
vulpine eyes, her long blue nose, her
skinny, claw-like hand. The woman
shrinks back, covering, against the gate
post. with a wheezy cough; the old
shawl falls away from her face Out
comes the moon, and sails along with a
sinister ray pointing right down on the
shivering, crouching figure and on the
that for one instant up
turns toward the assailant.
My God'- cries Timothy. And
that Is all His hand fails at his side,
he turns and walks hack to the house,
leaving the wretch to her plumber.
The wretch is mere animal, after All
"a hunted animal, it Is true, with all
the greed and cunning Of such. She
make her way somewhere with her prize
III doesn't much matter where. But
there comes up storm at midnight, a
binding, blood-chilling storm. that
might make the veriest tramp thankful
for shelter. Old Ware, sitting motion
less in his upper chamber, hears the
rafters shake overhead He listens
perhaps he i afraid the old house viii
come down over his head. The wind
raves and shrieks about window and
doorway. He gets up by-and-by, aud
lifting the dripping sash, looks out into
the road. He sees nothing; no BOYS
will rob his melon patch tonight. and
no beggar come whining to his gate.
Afar OF, where the road circles toward
the south land, old Betsey has crawled
into the shelter Of way-side barn. No,
there j. nothing 70 be seen anywhere
about. Timothy shuts the window with
. shndder, and crawls 10 bed
A week after this, Rebecca, sweet and
tintless a. 4 snow-drop, stops At the
gate once more.
old Betsey. my poor old vagran',
lcft US last night, neighbor," she says
= The blankets and pillows thee sent
were very great charity, but she need
eth our charity no more"
= No moreP" repeated old Ware, va
eantly
"Shc died last night" answers Re
becca, and her lip trcmblcs little.
There Il no reply. Kebecca does nnt
break the long. long pause. She i used
N the old mans moods Finally, she
'ets her face ~ the road again; il H. get
ing late.