Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1890-01-10
AN INNOCENT BURGLAR.

dnO OOu llOb ohN "SAJ -
and ali night. Aiu't it bad enough
to be all aches and pains, but you
must add fretting to them y
The speaker was tall, bony wo-
man OF some forty.fve or fifty years,
with a hard face, that expressed
far more annoyance than sympathy
as she shook up the pillows and ar
ranged the covers of the bed where
an older woman lay. Not a very
Old woman, but one whose gray
hairs aud wrinkled cheeks told of
many years soiOurn in the world.
"Berthaw she said, in a low,
plaintive voice. "l want Bertha p
"How many times have l told
you that Bertha can't be found Z"
"She'S down stairs
"Well, If it wouldn't try the pa
tlence of SAINT 10 hear yOul Can't
you remember, Aunt Martha 7 Ber'
tba ran away two years ago with
that painting chap that said his
name was Thornton. GOOD mes
knows whether it was or not. But
he made love to Bertha while he
was painting her picture. l told
you no gOOt would come of letting
her rig herself out like a play &C
tress, and stand up tor hours, a
smirking and smiling, while he
took her picture and talked soft
nonsense to her. He ran away
with her and that was the end of
it. Can't you remember"
dyes, | remember. He wrote to
me, and be sent me a copy of the
marriage lines, so I'd know he low.
ed her true and faithful. l IremeG.
Der it all, Hannah. And was
mad because they'd deceived me,
and wrote back an angry letter.
But l did not know how L should
miss her pretty face and sweet
voice. she was so young, too, Han
nah. Only sixteen Not more
than a child I was too hard, too
hard. But she is here, now. Let
her come to me.
All this was uttered in the tain, =,
gasping voice of one whose journey
OF life was fast drawing to a close.
But there was no pity in the hard
face, no tenderness in the harsh
voice OF her niece.
81 tell you she is not here ~ she
said, roughly, sand Pm tired Of
your eternal whining for her. Go
to sleeDw
IL can't sleep! 1 never sleep
now And | heard her. | heard
Bertha downstairs"
81 wonder, now, if she did hear
her." Hannah muttered, uneasily.
"Tt'S bad luck to cross the edying.
If she would only tell where she's
put her money. Six thousand dol
lars in United States bonds, Law.
yer Brown says he's bought for
her, and never sold one; and they
are in the house, too. I've ran
sacked as much as l dare, but
she sleeps so little that | can't do
much in this room. And there's
the doctor coming every day, so l
daren't to make her mad, or she'll
send aud change her will"
Partly muttering, partly think.
ing all this, the woman tldied the
room for the night and set the
lamp on the hearth before she went
to her own room. Sitting up tC
watch was hard work, aud Hannah
Graves kept a little sumulant
where she could drink unOOseryed
To do her justice, she seldom TOOK
much, and nodded in the arm cbail
beside the sick bed pretty faithful
Ily. But on this night she wa'
troubled with an uneasy conscience
euce and exceeded her usual allow
lance, falling into a deep sleep il
her own room, where she had Onl,
intended to change her dress for
loose wrapper.
Earlier in the evening, before tn
earIy darkness of December nigh
had closed ID, there had been sur
plant at the door, whose low, swee
voice had vainly pleaded for a(
mission. The granddaughter wh
run away with the artist had hear
from a farmer, who went weekly
/ the city, OF her grandmOther's il
I ness, and hoped for one word
: forgiveness.
The farmer was a kindly ma
who had before carried tidinI
from the cottage to the city "hat
Il where Marcus Thornton and b
young wife lived, as poor people
great cities 80 often live. struggliI
> bravely for daily bread, but GWet
, ening the toll by strong mutual loV