The Labor enquirer., 1882-12-23

u
some pai4 here different from any which
had come under the girls ken. SoMatty
brought the cup of warmed milk and
fed the child!A It swallowed like some
starving cub, and, when it had done,
turned It's soggy black eyes on her face
with strange appealing look, she fan
cied. 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 not lock up just such
wretcEes every night?
Her father looked grave when he came
out and turned the key. There's some
what outof the ordinary the matter with
that un, !" he said. "It's not drink either.
Well, go to bed, Matty. What's kept
Nyouup in this shivering night, pet, any
way" STOPPING to kiss her. w.
If his jaws were lank and unshaven,
and his shirt patched flannel, her fathers
eyes were the kindest she ever had
known, and his smile as tender as a
womanS; 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>a mo-
ment What if she went in and sat by
her tonight? She could persuade her
father to allow it. Only a moment she
paused, then went on to bed IF it had
been some great thing he told thee to do,
wOuldst not thou have done it?"
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 a
sharp, sudden cry, breaking out Of some
depth of pain, such as she never had
dreamed Of 1t must have been fancy,
for, starting up and listening, 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 familiar
name twice uttered. "Pish [ was asleep.
What could she know of him?'' she NUT
tered, 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, look
ing back to this night, that hour used to
recur to her with a curious vividness.
1T was the last of my girlhood's un-
real stupor," she would say. Il woke
out Of it to live in earnest"
She woke with a sound of subdued
voices in her ear, a changing Of doors,
cries Of anger and horror, and then sud-
den pauses, such as fall on terrified
crowd. The sounds were without the
gates. Within the Jail all was silent,
save now and then a smOthered football
outside of the door. Torches carried by
some of the crowd in the street, threw a
reddish and uncertain glare upon the
walls and upon her bed. ut is some
criminal they are bringing here. So the
New Year comes in" and she hid her
face in her hands, sick of slime and vice
and pitying herself Do not blame her.
She as.only a girl, not far from child,
and would have liked an innocent and
foolish life just Ss other girls do.
At first she tried to shut out the
noises and the lights, then she got up,
and, wrapping shawl about her, crept
to the window. They had taken the
prisoner inside: the gates were fastened,
but she could catch glimpses of the
swaying mass Of faces under the leafless
trees on the dark street, red and angry.
Overhead was the wide, cold winter
night, catching the sickly pallor Of dawn;
beneath the drifted snow, foul and
muddy already with the tramping feet.
The whole world was cold and foul, the
girl thought, standing there with chilled
feet and sick heart, trying to understand
the suIlen muttering of these men with
out She heard it at last. 1t was MUIR
der they talked 6f-a murder that had
been done tonight. Not a drunken
street brawI, but some deed that shamed