The Arkansaw traveler., 1886-02-20

man, for all that he's been wearing con- vict's uniform, and, if he showed his face here, would be summed like a leper."
 This time l had hit home. Rose dropped her sewing and changed color. Her lips would not speak his name aloud she asked with subdued eagerness:
 "Is he free?"
 Free, and of to America" replied, where may heaven befriend him in his needW
 Her brown eyes, like deer's watched mine intently.
 How did he look 2" she asked.
 "Very sadly" l told her. And once an outlaw means always an outlaw too often for men of his mould; but at least where he's gone he'll not have every mans hand against him, and every woman's tongue"
 "I wish had seen him." she said as if thinking aloud.
 "You2 That would be too cruel. Why remind him how he came by his fall ?"
 Rose fired up resentfully.
 "Why do you talk to me so," she ex- claimed, Gas if were the one to blame ?"
 "1 think you were to blame," 1 said bluntly. "You let lem come courting as if you liked it, and if he grew jealous of Mick, do you mean that he dreamed the reason why2"
 :" forgot his wild temper" said Rose wistfully. q scarcely believed in it-he was always gentle when was there. And was bound by no promise-I was free to listen to Mick if chose"
 "So you did choose"
 l might" Rose owned honestly. He was one of those who make you believe anything passed his word lightly-only to break it again. It had brought ruin aud death to more than one here, and though Mick meant honest by me let him know had done with him. It was then he spoke those words which -"
 (Which so nearly cost him his life," supplied, repeating again, "Jem wasn't sober, of course. He never was that way given, but when temperance man does break out he knows no bounds"
 never spoke to Mick again." Rose said, as if in self-acquittal.
 " All very fine, my maid," thought I; "t that will mend nothing now" And could not help adding aloud, "small comfort, fear, to Jemmy King in prison, or battling on among strangers over the sea-"
 Rose, to my surprise, burst into tears. There, of course, was an end of me and my sermon. "Don't cry" said !, like the helpless man that was.
 :" don't see it was my fault," she said, though but for me lem never would have got into this trouble. It's the thought of him now that can't bear. There's nothing wouldn't do to help or make could-nothisg."
 What would you marry him, Rose p l asked with indiscreet curiosity.
 !" would," she said, taking her hands from her face, and speaking steadily and convincingly. "But you know that's im- possible. Father would rather see me dead than Jem's wife now"
 "Yes, know" And if confirmation were wanting, 1t came upon us just then in the figure of the stout blac cksmith- true type of the rigid, good-hearted, mar row-minded, inHexible cottage Philistine as it were rural dean" in his gaiters and smiths apron. He had been a pop ular preacher in his youth, but dissent was not active in Eversfold, and Evans went to church with the rest.
 We sat awhile chatting in the porch watching village congregation of some half-a-dozen coming out from afternoon service-I beg our new curate's pardon from evensong.
 "Thats never Joe Murphy 2'' l asked presently, as shock-haired, strange faced figure, clad in apparently cast-off suit of the curate's, came ambling cut of the porch. "Taken to church-gcing That beats everythingw
 He's taken serious turn and blows the organ," Evans stated gravely.
 In my time he lived under a cloud, as addicted to poaching, presumably, and certainly to gin. Thanks to peculiarities of intellect, induced. probably, by the latter habit, he was treated as more tn n half irresponsible-an amiable village jester, whose follies are matter of course.
 |" He's taken the pledge" said Rose, " and kept it nigh on two years. He turned colporteur, and they nicknamed him Holy Joe,' but his health broke down, and organ-blowing's about all he's fit for"
 hailed the interesting convert as he passed. "Well, Murphy, good evening. Where do you come from5"
 He touched his cap with pleased recog- hilton and made reply:
 Faith, and it's church I'm always coming from. Mortal long psalm, 6f- teenth evening of the month. May you never have to earn living off making a bellows of yourself, master"
 "Glad to hear you're reformed char. acter," rejoined with doubtful mind. thought disccrned possibilities of re- lapse about Holy Joe."
 "Never touch drop of spirits now," he declared. "I've forgotten what the taste is like" With heavy sigh he wished me good evening and passed on, singing what might or might not be a psalm.
 Has he no news of Mick7" I asked suddenly. "They used to be as thick as two."
 None," Rose answered. "Perhaps. Eversfold Is too humble for Mick now."1
 People used to ascribe Mick's "wild-