The daily morning journal and courier., 1896-12-03

"Dunnot let me hear thee, ne re- peated with a certain massive insist ence that seemed to close In upon and repress the woman's volubility, as the quiet, heavy snow of the drift hushes the chatterlng life of the village. She became silent. and the Man from Sta lybridge passed on. The next afternoon he was stopped as he went past the house. She wants to see thee, said the wo- man on the doorstep "l reckon she wants to thank thee fur paying the rent"
 Fur why did thou tell her owt about it?" he inquired, as he followed the wo- man up stairs.
 She knocked at the door, a voice re- piled, Come in;" the woman went | away, and the man. entering, saw again the beauty that had so dazzled | him. The room was poor and bare, Perhaps it's poverty and baroness made 1 the beauty of it's inmate more remark able; or perhaps here was beauty that was independent of any accessories | poor or splendid. She was sitting in an old armchair covered With red Trr- | key twill, and wore the same rough blue serge gown he had seen before. You are the man who has paid my rent?" she said, looking at him. T wished to thank you. l did nqt know I had a. friend in the world"
 Tt wur nowt," responded the Man from Stalybridge. He seemed to fill the room. His head was not far off the ceiling, and his shoulders left little space between the fireplace and the door.
 Tt was great deal to me- she went on, for I am quite alone, penniless and dying. The doctor says I shall not live. and l am glad, for I am tired of only twenty"
 Iris young, he said, and thought fully rubbed his nose.
 "Only twenty" she repeated, and | dying here Were it not for you, l should not have even this shelter" There came a mellow sound of peal ing bells across the rattle and noise of the trains.
 "Theer's the bells'' said the Man from Stalybridge, ditfidently, with a vague idea of religious consolation. "The bells? Oh, yes, they are sweet. | suppose I shall be buried in that churchyard. Is there grass there?"
 "Oh, ay, grass enow, an green. The | church stands high, an theer's sun an rain"
 She turned her head restlessly. But. of course they will put me in a pauper's grave"
 Nay" said the Man from Staly- | h,;, &o thnf ftot l myself I'll see to it myself.
 "You?" She looked at him haf-in- credulously. T really believe you will! Though why should you? It is not fair that your earnings should go for a stranger
 Tt wilma break me; an if it did it wouldna matter. Theer's nobody be- | longing to me"
 "T am afraid that funerals cost a great deal.'
 Not so much" he responded earn estly. T buried my feyther awhile back, an it wurna the burying as took most O the brass, but the meat an drink fur the folks as coon to it.
 No folks will come to mine,' she 1 said with a hard little laugh. Then she smiled and held out her hand. Thank you believe you will do it, and am grateful. There Is no one else who l would"
 She spoke truly. She was grateful not only for what he promised, but for l the assurance the promise gave her that her empire had not wholly depart l ed. Here still, despite disgrace and poverty, could be found man willing | to spend all that he had rather than l that she should e>disturbed by the | thought of what grave she would lie in. | There was a touch of coquetry in smile and gesture as she held out her hand. The Man from Stalybridge took it care | fully, as though he did not quite know | what to do with it. For moment he l looked down on the thin transparent 1 fingers lying in his huge palm, then | gently put them back on the arm of her chair.
 Make thy mind easy" he repeated. 1'll see to it. Is theer owt else l can l do?"
 Nothing, thank you" 1 "Then good-day to thee" | "Good-day, and thank you
 He softly closed the door and went | down stairs, meeting the woman of the house below.
 She's going fast" she remarked. l See to yon fire, he said authorita- 1 lively; ''thou's letting it down, an towd thee to keep it up, Heres the l brass fur the coal, an owt else.
 ''A' rect" she said. half sulkily. She'll not need it long. En- it's pity thou hasna Q missis to keep thy brass fur thee"
 He crossed the threshold, then turned back. Thou can fetch me out O the Dusthole if she wants me fur owt,"
 "A rect" responded the woman
 The next few days passed as usual Then came a morning when, as the Man from Stalybridge stopped to in quire if anything was wanted, he was confronted by down-drawn blinds.
 She's gone then?' he asked of the woman who came to the door.
 ''Ay, she went i the small hours the l morning."
 The Man from Stalybrdge pulled of his cap and gazed meditatively into the crown of it for a minute or two as | though seeking therein the solution ot many problems. Then he spoke. "Il see to things he said, and replacing his cap, he walked away. That evening the senior curate ot Saint Barnabas' had a perplexing in terview with plate-layer who wa: very much in earnest about funera | two days later He wanted various