The Highland weekly news. [volume] (Hillsborough [Hillsboro], Highland County, Ohio) 1853-1886, 1880-02-19
JUsTAsIAM.
BY MISS NJ. E. BRADDON.
Author of 'Lady Audley's Secret, ''Ta-
ken at the Flood, A Strange World"
''Dead Mems Shoes, 'sWeavers
and Weft, ''The Cloven
Foot &C, Sc.
CHAPTER I.
EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY.

blackberry leaves are still green, while th
hips and haws are ripening for the bird.
on the other. A desolate bit Of road, II
mote from human habitation ;-no gimme
of fre-lit cottage in the distance no Rra
smOke-wreaths curling up above the wooC
It is only a mile and quarter from her
to the village Of AusthOrpe, yet the belai
ed traveller might fancy himself far fror
all hope Of shelter.
A solitary figure covering under th
hedge, with a vagabond dog crOuchin
close at its side, enhances rather than less
ems the solitude of the scene. There /
something desolate and drearv in tba
gaunt figure, clad IN an old smOck frOck
patched with such various shades Of stuf
as almost to rival JOseph's coat Of man,
cOlOrs. The wayfarer is elderly and grim
looking. He has long grizzled hair, and
Weather-beaten complexion, hollow cheek
and haggard eyes. Every line in his RUG
ged face tells Of privation that has gont
near to famine. The dog has the sam
gaunt frame and hungry look, as he sit
watching his master gnawing q mould7
crust, which he has just extracted from
the blue cotton handkerchief that hold
all his worldly gear.
The hungry master gnaWs, and the hun
cry mOngrel envies, wagging his boo
stump Of a tail ever and anon in mute SUD
plicatiOn, once or twice bursting into
tremulOus whine. His owner looks at hin
obviously, out of a corner of his eve. auC
at last, with reluctant air, relinquishe
his grip upon the crust, and tosses the re
naming fragment to the cur.
''A bite for him and a bite for me.
growls the vaqabOnd. ''There aint a isi
in England, where I shouldn't get a better
supper than I can get as a free man. Lib
erty's sweet, says some folks. Not fol
starving stOmachs, says L Liberty's bit
ter, when it only means you're free tC
starYe and rot-as We are-eh, Tim?"
Tim stands on end, and Hcks the wan.
dercr's face. 1t is only a dogs tongue,
but the most loving salute Humphrey Var.
gas is likely to get in this life.
Vargas picks himself up stiffiY, for he Is
sixty years old, and tired and foOtsore,
from the low bank where he has been sit
ting on a cushion Of fallen leaves, and be.
gins to look around him in the gray dusk.
''Why, if it amt the blessed sDOt!" be
eXclaims. There's the pollard oakland
the pool just inside the hedge-and there's
the path across the COpse yOnder to Blateh.
mardean. No mistake about it. This il
the spot. Twenty years ago, to-day
twenty years agO-and it all comes back
to me as if it was yesterday. I'm moi
much of a one to remember days and years,
but shall never forget that day, nor that
year, nor this place"
He clambered up the bank, and looked
about him, peering though the dusk, across
the meadows y0nder, with their tangled
hedges and tall timber-an Old-fashiOned
landscape, neither improved
nor disfigured by high farming. On the
other side Of the narrow rOad-fOr this
village of AusthOrpe was off the kings
hamlet approached by rustic
lanes-there was only the mysterious dark.
ness of the wood.
i know that there pOllarded oak, and ]
can swear to that bit of water, said Var
gas. 'pYe seen that place too often in
my dreams to forget it when Pm awake.
And now, come on, Tim. You and me
are going to sleep under a roof tonight.
All, lad, though, don't know about you.
Maybe they'll refuse to take you in, old
chap but wen try to work it, wen try to
work it, Tim"
He shOuldered his stick, and trudged on
''Hardly over a mile" he muttersd tc
himself, Il can do that"
The dog craWled by his side, dead lame.
q p q L
cur but for that power of viii which made
the man a little higher than the dog. The
lane was lonely enough for the first half
mile, then came solitary cottage, on a
knoll above the roadway, with its row of
against the darkling sky, and It's
cheerful fire-glOW shining across the lane;
then a couple of cottages together, little
better than novels, but suggestive of
and comfort to the Wanderer who
had no shelter: then more cottages, -four
in a row, substantial, respectable dwellings
with a Century-Old date upon their rough
cast front, latticed easements, slOping.
shatched roofs, with a dormer window In
each, that looked like an eye in a pent-
house brow. Here again was the comfort
able ire-gloW shining through lattice, and
.nside-a neatly swept hearth, a singing
kettle, a little round table with cups and
saUcers, and a big brown loaf.
Far away, at the end of a long lane of
years, Vargas saw the picture of
Just such a cottage interior, and himself
coming home to it, a respectable member
Of society, earning his sixteen shillings a
week manfully, and keeping a wife and
i've children. He remembered the flaXen
heads and rosy cheeks in the fire. -light-the
of the cottage, at siIpence a week,
with apatCh of potato ground, and half a
iozen apple trees behind it.
ssWas that cOntented, respectable chap
ne g' he asked himself, wOnderingly.
Here are the lights Of Austhorpe. Not
many or brilliant. A tWinkling ray from
he village shop-a glimmer in the school
louse windows cherry light shining
through the red curtain st the Sugar
IOaves Inn, where three dangling sugar
caves, pendent from the sign-post in the
Dad, are swinging in the northeast wind.
light yOnder from the lodge window by
he gate of FairYieW, Sir EYerard Courte-
lays place.
Vargas stood and looked up and down
he village strest-if that could be called
street which was verify a wide-Open road,
With a farm house on one side, a few scat
cred cottages on the other, further on a
,ond, and half a dozen more cottages, cul-
in a shop at a corner opposite the
he schoOl-house, and beyond that, fac
ng down the road, which here turned off
t a sharp angle, the village inn, with its
hree sugar lOaYes, groaning and crsakng
n the wind.
The church, an old barn, which looked
s if it had been begun without any def
lite idea, and abandoned by an architect
Who did not know how to finish it, stood
part in the midst of fields, and had alto
either an accidental air.
Vargas knew the place as well as he
new himself, although it was twenty
ears tonight since he had set foot on
hat quiet road. He saw that an old cot
age or two, which he remembered, had
umbled down, OF disappeared somehow,
nd that a couple Of new cottages had
zen built. He saw the sugar lOaves
winging as they had swung above his
lead many a time on summer evenings,
7hen he had stood among the village quld
Incs, settling the fate of empires. The
ed curtain had faded a little perhaps
here was a stout limb Topped from one of
he three tall pOplars but the old house
.ad the same air of thrift and prosperity
s of yore.
Humphrey Vargas explored the bottom
t his breeches pockets with careful fin
ers, in the faint hope Of finding forgot
en- penny. But those pockets were posi-
lively empty. There was no delusiOn.
Rite or s1ID sava from charity or official