Evening star., 1896-11-28
The elder of his new dodgers repeated his
words. Small chance pf that" she said,

words. Small chance Yf that" she said,
The man looked at her inquisitively.
Little or none." he safd.-"If we have to
cry enough we shall cry IL in time. and
''But If it happened at night?'' the wo-
| man asked, curiously. She felt strange
| compulsion to put the question.
then, of course, things might be different"
he said. But God forbid! God forbid"
he continued. hastily, and in a tone that
| betrayed his thoughts. And you. wife, get
back to your pots and leave this talking!'
The woman from the house on the wall
went upstairs to her room. She did not
repent of what she had dope. but feeling
| of solemnity began to take hold Of her;
| ing-of waiting and watching, for she alone
knew what. Given a companion less pre-
occupied with her own misery, and she
| must have been suspected. But the girl
| lay moodily on her bed, and the widow was
| left at liberty to stand at the window, with
her hands spread on the sill. and look and
listen. look and listen, unmatched. she
| could not see the street, for, below the
| window, the roof ran down steeply yard
| or more to the caves; but she had full COM
| mand of the opposite houses, and at one OF
! the windows a girl was dressing herself
| The woman watched her plait her fair
| hair. looking sideways the while at little
| mirror; and saw her put on a poor neck
lace, and remove 1t again. ana try a piece
/
| Interested From interest she passed to
| speculation; wondered, with slight shud-
| der. how this girl would fare between that
| and morning And then the girl looked up
and met the woman'S eyes with the blue
innocence Of her ownrand the woman fell
| back from the window as If some one had
| struck her.
| Part III.
| She went no more after that to the win
| dow. but until it was quite dark sat In a
| chair with her hands on her lap, forcing
| herself, as women will, to quietude where
| men would tramp the floor increasingly.
| When 1t was quite dark she trimmed and
| lit the lamp, and still she did not repent.
| But she listened more and more closely and
| with less concealment. And the face of
| the girl preening herself at her poor mirror
returned again and again. and troubled her.
| She could contemplate the fate of the town
as whole and say: Let 1t be- But the
| one face at the window, the one case
| brought home to her, clung to her mind,
and pricked and panied her strangely:
BY and by she heard the clock striking
| ten and her daughter, turning feverishly
on her bed. asked her if she were going to
| lie down. Presently" she answered.
| Presently" And still sat and listened,
and still the girls face haunted her. She
| began to picture more in detail the thing
| for which she was waiting; she fancied
| that she heard the first alert. followed by
the roar of alarm, and the wild rush Of
| feet; then the crashing volley, the rattle OF
| hcofs on the pavement, the whtrl of the
| flight through the streets, the shouts OF
| Germany GermanyS as the troops swept
| in triumphant! And then-ah, then-she
| heard the things that would follow, the
| crashingsin of doors, the sudden f1aring Of
| flames, the screams of men driven to the
wall, the yells of drunken Saxons, the
| shrieks of tortured women, the
| No more! No more! She could rot bear
/ stood and
| looked wildly about her The lamp burned
low, her daughter was asleep. with
| swift movement the mother caught up
| shawl that lay beside her, and twisted 1t
| round her head, and turned to the door.
| Alas. too late. She. had repented, but too
| late. Her hand already on the latch, she
| Stood arrested by low, distant cry that
| caught her ear. and swelled, even as she
| listened to 1t. into a roar of many voices
| rousing the town. What.was it? Alas, she
| knew; she knew, and covered against the
| door, white-faced and shaking. A moment,
| and the alarm, after sinking, rose again,
| and now there was no doubt of Its mean
| ing. Shod feet clattered through the street,
| windows were flung up, wild medley of
| voices broke out, and again, in a few sec
| onds, Were lost in the. crashing sound of
| the very volley she had foraseen
| From that moment it seemed that hell
| had broken loose in the town. and she had
| looSed it! She could no longer in the din
| that came up from the street, distinguish
| one sound from another.lbut the crash of
| distant cannon, the heavy tramp of feet
| near at hand, the screams and series and
| shouting, the bfare1of trumpets all rose in
| a confused babelf'of sounds that blanched
| the cheeks and sfroves the blood to the
| heart The woman. covering aga inst the
door, covered her.earS and groaned aloud
| her horror at what she had done so great
| that she did not heed what was passing
| near her, or even give thought to the
| child in the same room with her, Until the
| latter'S voice struck her ear harshly, and
| she turned and found her standing in the
| middle of the floor, her hand to her heart
| and her eyes wide. Then the mother awoke
| in her again; with palid, shaking lips she
| cried to her to lie down-to lie down-fCr
| there danger.
| But the girl raised her hand for silence,
| and bent her head one listening. "Hushv'
| she said. Il hear a voice! And it is his!
| 1t is his! He is coming to mev'
| The mother imagined that terror had
| turned her brain; 1t was nconceivable that
| in that roar of sound a single voice could
| make itself heard or be recognized. And
| she tried in a voice quavernS with horror,
| to repeat her meaningless words of COM
| fort. But they died her lips-died still
| born, as the door flew open, and a man
| rushed in, stood instant looking, then
| caught her child in his arms.
| 1t was the burgomaster's son!
| The woman from the House on the Wall
| leaned an instant against the door post.
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