The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1883-06-14
A RICH REWARD.

"Poor old soul, how white she isl
and how weak she looks, and how sad!'
said Clare Rainsford, the tears of beauti-
ful, womanly compassion gathering
thick in the blue eyes, and slowly cours
ING down the blooming check.
She stood in the doorway of the olO
red brick farmhouse, and the sunshine
from the broad summer fields outside
rushed about her, and made living gold
of her beautiful hair, and She stood in
its light, with a heavenly pity on hel
pure face, as though she had but newly
alighted upon earth from some fairer re
gion.
She was looking at the figure of an
old woman, crouched on a low arm.
chair, Mt the opposite wall.
She was much travGl-stained. The
shoes were dragged down at heel, thick
with the mud of many highways, and in
some places burst open; the dress-an
old silk one-was very ragged, but not
as from wear; there were great rents,
as if the poor soul had forced her way
through thorn and bramble- -thickets.
Her head was uncovered, and the
grey hair fell dishevellcd and unkempt.
Her face was very pinchcd, very white
and hollOw-checked She had all the
look of vagrant, wandering from place
TO place, ready to take revenge on So
cicty for real or fancicd wrongs rcceiv-
ed from it.
So thought Aunt Martha, as she came
into the room, at the moment, with q
plate, holding 4 golden pyramid of blocks
of butter.
"Gracious me, childr' cried Aunt
Martha. 'Where did you get this crea-
turc, in the namc of goodness? Why
did you let her in ut aIl?''
well, Aunt Mattic," said Glare,
quietly, II can hardly say that | let her
in; but l found her on the road, just at
our gate, almost fainting, and l brought
her in, aunt. rs | am sure you would dc
yourself.
"All very well, child; but this creature
is 4 tramp, and one of the dirtiest and
raggcd<St-a and l hate tramps, and you
know | do. And I'm not goin' TO have
my housc-leastways it's my brother
Thomas, which is all the same-tilled
with :nasty creature, all over mud; and
Heaven knows what they have picked
up in tie woods, and fields, and bitches
So, my old woman. Just let me see you
tramp ont of my house this minute!'
The old woman turned q lack-lustre
eye on the speaker, and stared at her as
il hardly comprehcnding her; but Aunt
Martha S raised voice, the flush on hcI
face, and, above all, the expressive ges-
ture towards the door, were too signiii-
cant to be misunderstood.
The poor creature feebly rose, and, with
q half bow, the grace of which formed
a singular contrast to her dress and ap-
pe:rance, tottered. rather than walked
slowly towards the door.
She did not reach it, for Clare, with {
fitfui color in her cheek, and certain
steely CLINT shining in her eyes, was by
the old woman's side, and led her back
to her seat. AS the poor old creature
reached it she sank down on the edge
then, sliding from it to the floor, lay
there, heap of muddy rags, with Tho
| white face, now insensible, staring out
from it.
''She has tainted. aunt. Fetch smell
ing-bottle and glass of water!'
Her voice was stern, and Aunt Mar
iha had never seen such an expression
in the handsome young face.
"Law, childr' she said, as sho came
| in with the two requirements, and bustle(
| herself about the insensible form, g
never thought the poor creature coult
be took so hard. If | had looked int
her face little closer / might have scel
| she wasn't in no fit condition to tram
the roads But" she added in whis
per, ''she be awful dirty, and she be
tramp"
Il don't think she is q tramp, rs tn
rest are, aunt. She has some trouble
you may depend upon it, and it ha
touched her brain"
Nonsense, child! You arc too 70
mantle, altogether. Anybody who look
ed 81 minute at her would say she was
tramp all her days. But she has com
to. Are you better now. my dear
Could you take a glass of milk?"
The old woman was seriously ill-tO
| i'll to be removed, even if there was an
place to remove her to; so that Aun
Martha was obliged to digest the venom
of her spleen against tramps and tramp
dom as best she could, and the invali
was placed in Clare's own bed, and th
doctor was sent for.
When Mr.. Dickson, Glare S uncle, cam
home, he entirely approved the proceed
ings, and declared he would never hay
held up his head if the lowest of God
creatures had been driven from his doc
to die by the roadside.
Nothing could surpass the devotion @
Glare to her invalid. The latter's dres
had been removed, and some of Mis-
Dickson's substituted. And now tina
she was cleaned and ''tied up" she pre-
sented much more aristocratic appear
ance than Miss Dickson herself.
She was in high fever, and require
careful nursing. Her rawlings were il
cessant, and Clare could gather fror
thom that the surroundings of her lif
must have been elegant and refined, bu
no clue as to her namo. Clare's deVC
ton had its origin in her pity and chal
ity, but indeed she felt the necessity {
the occupation afforded her by this goo
action, to fill the void left in her heal
by the first great grief of her life.
Glare Rainsford was an orphan, he
parents having died when she was at q
early age. She spent year alternatel
at her paternal uncle, Mr.. Rainsford
old home in Chestnut Hill, and at he
maternal uncle, Mr.. Dickson's farm
Buckinghamshire.
: At Chestnut Hill she had met Phil
Everett, and after q short courtship, az
eepted him as her lover. No girl ws
happier than Glare. She loved Phil
with tue whole strength of her strQn