The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1900-07-08
oTORY OF A PENITENT

II was nearly midnight when he reached
the deserted sod hut, for he was footsore
and weary and walked but slowly. 1t was
cloudless summer night. and the moon
was at her full. Under such skies as these
| even the rugged hills looked lovely, folded
into soft ample curves in the quiet moon
| light. And the nodding tussocks in jack S
| eyes looked far moro friendly and beautiful
than the wonderful shimmering ferns he
| had left. He pushed open the door of the
| hut and went in. 4 cobweb catching his
! brow as he did so. He struck match
and looked round him. All was neat and
in good order as the dead man had left it,
| His blankets were rolled up in one corner,
(; the kettle swung over the empty fireplace,
! and pipe with some tobacco was on the
! shelf above. There was a cupboard. too,
/ with some cheese, tea, flour. and moldy
| loaf in it. The sight of food reminded
Jack that he had had nothing since--since
| that last drink with his chum. Was it
/ only years ago. or in some other existence?
| He brought water from the little spring
| by the door. built up the fire. and put the
| kettle on to make tea. Then he made
himself some "damper'' and took his meal
with relish. He was not used to fast so
| lcng. After that he sat smoking awhile.
| then put out the tallow dip. rolled him
self up In the blankets and slept fitfuly
! till morning.
| His scheme was perfectly successful. The
| days passed on in monotonous succession.
! and no man came near his city of refuge.
| Once OF twice he ventured down to the
| township on the other side of the hills to re-
| p;enish his stock of necessaries Few people
| knew him there. and no one eyed MIN
/ askance as he came and went. Still had
! he been a prisoner. living on the poorest
/ fare IL could not have changed him more.
His cheeks began to fall in: he was bag
gard and gaunt; his bloodshed eyes had
| a strained. listening look in them. Among
| the bare. bleak hills by day. and alone
| beneath the illimitable stars by night. his
| mind began to totter- AS every summer
| sun sprang up, red and glorious, he al
most hoped that policeman would come
for him before night and break this awful
spell of Ioniiness. His was not the plight
of the Ancient Mariner. sailing sea so
lonely that God Himself scarce seemed to
be. To this man the terror and the awe
lay in the fact that God did seem there
beside him night and day, the only Being
il all that changeless solitude. God. and
the dead man. ard he seemed the only
realities in universe of shifting shadows.
One day he found late-blossoming wild
flower in the shadow Of a tussock. He
clutched at it like a child and Rugged 1t
to his bosom. tears springing to his eyes.
He took Il home with him. and had 1t
| by him while he slept. He could not love
| and admire too much this homely little
thing that spoke of simplicity and common
everyday life. He held 1t in his hand and
fondled It. till the fragile flower dropped
on its long, slender stem and died. Then
again he was left alone with the majestic.
| Implying stars. whose million eyes burnt
into his soul. He remembered fragment
NJ the Psalms that he had once known:
b1o he M
What came after he had forgotten. but
this he had no chance of forgetting whilst
these relentless ministers of His glory
shone luminous above him night by night.
Often at dusk the woodhens would steal
ont from tussock and toomatoogooroo.
croaking shrilly. One, holder than the
rest, would come to his very door. He had
been wont to hunt these birds urmerci-
fully but now he tried his utmost to pro-
pitiate and tame this one. He longsd to
stroke its speckled black brown
plumage and have 1t eat out OF his hand.
Once it carried off a gaudy handkerchief
he had spread out to attract it. and he
rolled himself IN in his blankets that
Tight happy. But it never came again.
Perhaps a chance stone or a dog had end
ed its life.
He had been almost afraid to ask for
a newspaper when buying his stores. les;
the very fact should betray him. Yet he
had conquered his guilty tremors. bought
one, and unfolded the cracking sheets in
his hut glancing his eyes fearfully over
each column. No. there was nothing Of
CT his murder case. Perhaps the first SEN
sation caused by it was over. or perhaps
this little country chronicle was silent
when larger papers were still full of it.
ANYWAY he told himself or the meantime
he was safe-safe-safe, He tried to say
tie word iubilantly but in spite of himself
1t had melancholy ring.
The door of the hut had evidently been
made of new timber. for as the sap had
receded the planks had shrunk apart from
each other, leaving wide yawning gaps
through which the daylight streamed and
the wind blew. To remedy this state of
affairs the dead man had pasted old news
papers partly across the back of the door.
These the present occupier would read and
re-read as he lay listiessly on the floor
beside them. At least they kept his
reason from going. But one sheet con-
tanned an account of murder. every word
of which soon seemed branded into his
brain. so well he knew every line. every
turn of phrase in it. 1t ended abruptly.
too at the turn of the sheet on which 1t
was printed. At the very climax OF the
tragedy all became suddenly blank. The
To him 1t was made more awful by far by
this CHASTITY break in it.. He pondered 1t
over and over. half unconsciously, many a
dreamlike ending suggesting itself to him,
always to be rejected on later review of It |
At last. in despair, and to save his mind |
from the utter horror of Madness he rose |
enc morning and pasted another sheet over |
il. which contained only the trivial local |
news of some local centre. The relief to |
his overweight and sensitive mood was |
exquisite. II came upon him with a sud- |
den burst of sweetness like the scent OF /
urguessed at yioIets
One morning in February, for he had |
kept some rude count of the days he |
awoke in the dusk of earliest dawn. He |
could not sleep again; a voice seemed |
in his heart. and the place |
seemed insufferably hot. He hustled on
his clothes. and went out to the door 1t |
was very still. The rugged peaks looked
softer in this light. and the unduating
tussocks might have passed for waves OF
the sea. Slowly the gorgeous rose of day
burst and famed above the horizon. shoot
ing its marvellous lights far and wide. TIL
the sun himself leapt up. and the pcmp of
dawn was ovef. Jack stood watching, and
still that voice seemed whispering in his
heart. He had strange idea of an angel
with a fiery sword standing beside him. |
At last he could endure 1t no longer All
the slow agony of these weeks seemed
into moment, and with
a rush his soul went down into the black
waters of a bitterness worse than death
He dropped on his knees, and cry of an
gush broke from him. st. Peters words |
seemed the only prayer he could use. He
hoarsely again and again. De-