The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1898-12-10

first time this happened, and he began to
sing at once without speaking.
They knew each other well by this time,
though they did not seem to talk much.
A few brusque questions had put the man
in possession Of the simple facts of Tilda' S
life. And though he told her nothing
about himself, 'Tilda understood in some
mysterious way that he too was unhappy
and lonely and very poor. 1t seemed to
her to make bond between them, and
side by side with the awe with which his
voice inspired her there grew up pathetic
little impulse of pity. He had cough
and she used to ask him how it was, and
to recommend simple remedies, timidly
enough. indeed, but with ii touch ot' anx
ious solicitude which suggested Il womanly
sense that man is but poor helpless
creature after al
1t was IA dali, chilly evening when Til
da short-lived spell OF happiness came to
an end. Tilda had cast many anxious
glances at the sky, fearing lest rain shouid
drive her to take Billy indoors. But the
singer came first, and it seemed to Tild,
that his voice was more wonderful than it
had ever been before He sang on and
on, with only the shortest pauses, in which
he did not seem inclined. for conversation,
and at last he stopped abruptly.
'Tm giving you the whole lot today. -
he said. Il shan be here again-yet. =
The light went out of Tilda face, and
she stood gazing at him over Billy fabby
person with wide eyes. She did not speak
'Tm restless he said, and an odd,
wild gleam lit up his eyes. I'm going
round the country for a bit-seaside.
Still Tilda did not speak Her lips
were quivering little. He spoke impa-
tiently, but whether the impatience was
for her or for himself might have been IL
nice question.
"Come, come = he said You musn t
take it to heart shall come back and
sing to you again, you know, and you must
be brave little soul and keep up your
heart. See p
Tilda nodded. The conditions of her
life had stunned all idea Of lamentation or
appeal in her, and she made no protest
now But she sat down suddenly on Il
doorstep, and with one glance at her he
began to sing. When he had finished he
turned to her.
Now must 90, he said. food
bye for the present, little thing. He
hesitated ii moment. Then he held ont
his hand, and she laid her small fingers
in it.
You Il mind your cough p she said
family and appealingly. And he went
away.
In the unbroken discord and ugliness of
the days and week that followed, the
misery of her life closed round Tilda like
a dense FOG Of despair. Whether matters
had really grown worse during that fort
night, or whether the temporary tighten
ing Of her wretchedness made it seem
worse now that the darkness had settled
down again, she did not try to decide
But as the winter drew IN there is no doubt
whatever that all her troubles were very
definitely accentuated The cold weather
came early, with bitter rain and piercing
winds. Summer in George Street had
been bad enough, but there had at least
been an outlet in the summer time The
whole Gilkes family had seldom assembled
under the roof, except to sleep. 'Tilda
herself could escape from the vigorous
hand-of her step-mother, if
it were onl y to overtax herself by carrying
Billy about. But now no such escape was
possible, unless accompanied by acute
physical discomfort Even the wet wealth
er however, was not 50 bad as that which
succeeded it-black, biting frost.
The cold was such as had not been
known for years, and George Street suf-
fered acutely. Everyone was out of work,
There was very little food, very little fire.
November gave place to December, and
still the frost held. OF the singer there
came no sign. For many long day and
week Tilda had hoped and believed that
he would come back, and she had longed
until her poor little heart was sick with
longing, to hear his voice again But as
Christmas drew nearer bringing no touch
of the Christmas spirit into her life, leav-
ing her outside all hope and happiness, she
sank into something like apathy. There
was no help for her anywhere in the world,
she felt, dumbly; the singer would never
come back; and even Christmas had moth
ing for her.
She had been sent one afternoon by Mrs.
Gilkes to see if she could get loaf Of
bread on credit from any of the neighbor-
ing shops. She was returning empty
handed, with dragging, reluctant steps.
dreading the blows which assuredly awaited
her failure even more than she dreaded the
piercing cold Her head was swimming
little; it often did so in these days. And
her ears were ringing with one Of the carols
she had sung so often and so happily-the
first verse over and over again
''Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the newborn King;
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.'
She turned corner and suddenly stopped
abruptly, clasping her thin blue hands in
voluntarily over her heart. The frsC verse
Of the carol was no longer ringing in her
ears. But away in the distance the see
ond verse was rising
"Mid, He lays His glory by;
Born that man no more may die;
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth"
She was not far from George Street.
A few moments headlong run, growing
swifter as the voice grew clearer, and she
reached the corner
There in the darkness of the winter
afternoon stood the singer.
'Tilda did not move when once her eyes
rested on his figure. She was rather be-
hind him, and she stood motionless, her
hands tightly clasped; her face transfgur-
ed, until he had finished Then, hardly
knowing what she was doing, she went
towards him, and he turned and saw her.