Warren sheaf., 1899-10-19
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ShOWer-tOr that has some life and
vigor in it-but a steady, unexciting
drip, drip, in which there was neither
pleasure nor hope; nothing but a de-s5
pressing repetition Of an already y weari-5
some theme. ssS Sc
Dull gray clouds overhead, sodden
green fields below, and through the
dreary scene one solitary figure, trudg-
that seemed as hopeless as the monoto
nous falling of the rain. Now squelch-
ing in the mud, now splashing through
puddle, he went steadily on, his head
bent, his hands thrust deep into his
pockets, the collar of his shabby coat
turned up in a vain attempt to keep off
the all-pervading rain. He was young
in years still, though there was little
of youthful elasticity in his step, and in
his heart-God knows! no youthful
hopefulness,3 nothing but disappoint-5
ment, and disillusion, and dogged de-
spair.
He glanced mechanically at the fa-
miliar country-familiar from child
hood, though now unseen for seven
long years but this home coming left
him little spirit to look about him, and
such slight changes as there were
! Though he noticed them, every one, in
a dull, impersonal kind of way) failed
to interest him. To get home, to: SAY
what he had to say, and be done with it,
that was all he could think of now, as
it was all he had lived for during many
weary week. Afterwards s.
But Ralph Wroughton's S mind refused
to consider what would happen after
wards. The future was blank to him.
Presently the ground fell away before
his feet, and at the bottom Of the slope
he saw the old homestead low,-
rambling house with its latticed win.
dows and quaint, twisted chimneys;
the old thatched barn and farm build
ings, the garden, and the groupd shell
tering elms beyond. He drew his breath
sharply for moment and stood still,
while a thousand memories rushed over
him; useless memories,sstha could but
make the present harder, more bitter
He moved restlessly assth oughto shake
them off, and tramped on.
The tall, white hollyhoeks stood,
drenched and detected, on either side of
the tagged garden path, and the con
stant drip, drip of the rain sounded
mournfully in his ears as he lifted the
latch
There was murmur of voices within,
which ceased abruptly. With sudden
gesture he flung open the door and en-
tered
Two women stood in the low, raftered
kitchen, the red glow of the fire behind
them; one old and gaunt, her lank gray
hair struggling from beneath rusty
black cap, her keen black eyes glancing
with hawklike vigilance above thin,
hooked nose; the other, young and
comely, chestnut haired and gray-eyed,
with a finely nodded figure and beauti-
fully poised head, the simplicity Of the
peasant in her spotless print gown, but
of a peasant with the carriage of a
queen.
They looked at Ralph inksi1ence for a
minute or more, and he looked back at
them, hoping, perhaps, that they would
speak and make his hard task some
what easier, but if so he hoped in vain
ooAAs1 1e1tSfA, ne SAL d
length. Il y.
Il see thee hast, lad,''s the old woman
assented, brusquely g but why ??''ss.S
He made a little deprecat tory gesture,
and she laughed grimly. The younger
woman said never word.
Hast come back as poor as thee
went?" the cracked voice went on.
Poorer; Ihave failed
i never looked for thee to do aught
else. Well, well! and after thy big
words and all! Thy schooling has not
done much for thee, beyond giving thee
notions above thy station in life and a
sinful pride that would take none of
Gods good gifts without thou couldst
pay for them, and put down shilling for
shilling; thou, beggared before thou
vast born; who, but for the charity Of
neighbors, hadst drawn thy first
breath in the workhouse! But thou
hast come back and there's an end.''
"An end, ," he echoed, wearily. was
but a fool for my pains I knowiit now.''
Hear to him ?" with shrill derision.
Hast learned that much, and yet canst.
say thou hast come back poorer than
thee went? Nay, lad; one bit o. com
mon sense like that is worth all thy
books and learning not to speak o. the
few bits o. brass. But there, sit down,
and let me get on wit III my work. I have
no time to waste with thee now, for
there's a deal to be done in the dairy 81
and Phoebe here . = 4 3 952
She broke off, and, with a keen glance
at the. silent woman beside her, clat-
tered sout Sthe room losing the door
as she went.
Her footsteps echoed noisily down
the paved passage and died away in the
distance. There was long silence, in
which the pattering Of the rain against
the window seemed to grow louder and
full of a strange persistence.
Since that first look on his entrance
he had not once glanced at the younger
woman, but her eyes had never left his
face. They were fixed on. him now will
a curiously intent gaze that he might
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