UNDER A CLOUD

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 6313, 25 November 1891, Page 4

UNDER A CLOUD

[BY JEAN K.VTE LUDLUM.J

CHAPTER, XXI.

A TBEEIFIKD WHIBPEE,

So the winter went on, and it wae nearly Bpring again and the cold did not bo intensely creep into the bare kitchen to chill the old man. Every day was as the day before and as the day to come, so far as unobservant eyes could see, Hard life for men; hard life for master and mistress; hard life for the boy slowly waking to some sort of life under his new friend's care. Perhaps the silent figure never tiring in its eilent watch at the window when night set darkness upon the world, heard and saw things others could not know ; but if so, all things went on smoothly and silently and uneventfully as ever. Tom, the boy, was in disgrace with his master, and, like all under him, was continually under distrust and dislike. He had not done such work as was given him to do doring the day, and many blows fell to his lot and much abuse besides. His friend was not by afc the time, and the unprotected boy bore with his usual silence the treatment that lightened lately for him But when the day was over and work was done with until morning, the big man came upon Tom hidden among the hay in the loft, where he was gone for the night's feed for the cattlesobbing with a boy's grief and with more than ordinary bitterness over the day's harshness. The bi? man, rough though he ■was, was sjentle with this lad at such times. Now he made no exclamation that might by chance be overheard and so betray their confidence ; but he knelt down at the poor fellow's side and laid his heavy hand with remarkable lightness upon his shoulder. "Eh, Tom, lad," he said, softly,his eyes burning with inner thought—" eh, Tom, it's a bitter world a man lives in. But what's amiss now ? You can tell it to me. Something to do with that old brute ?" The boy cowered more and more in the fragrant, dry hay, over which the cattle would Boon Btand, with their heavy breathing and their stolid eyes, as though life to them were a mystery, too. Then he lifted his convulsed face to this strange friend beside him in the darkness of the barn, and put timidly out one rough hand, as though even this rough man's sympathy were the gentleness of angels to him in his solitary life of hardship. "Hush !" he -whispered, so hoarsely the man bent to catch the words. " Hush, Mr King! 'Ssh! 'Taint safe to breathe hereabouts. Maybe you don't know that if master caught you or any one a-saying such things, he'd—he'd—" The horrified voice died off in silence, as though its very terror stifled sound. Ihe man laughed, but in the same hushed manner as that in which the boy spoke. He might be brave, but he was no fool. Then he bent lower over the crouching figure beside him in the hay, and feeling certain that they were alone and beyond observation, took up his lantern, which he had placed carefully in a safe corner, and turning on the bull's eye, flashed it upon the face of his companion. A pallid, terrified, rather ghastly face this that met his sight. The slim figure shivering, as though with the cold of which the old man over his fire muttered. The rough hands were clasped tightly together and pressed down upon his breast, as though so either to still forever its throbbing or hush the daring words upon his lips. A face, once seen, always to remain upon one'e memory. But the man, seeing it, only allowed a grim smile to stir his lips, his eyes flashing like gleams of fire through the strange darkness aroand them. Then he closed with a click the shining eye of this eilent friend of his, and setting it carefully back in its safe corner, laid his hand upon the trembling boy's head. "Now, Tom," he said, very distinctly, though still in a whisper, and scarcely moving his lips, the sound seeming to come in some strange fashion through his set teeth, though still the distinct voice was not touched by any excitement—"now, Tom, lad, you give over this trembling because I happened to speak of the old man m those terms. Maybe I ain't special in love with him myself, and maybe I am. There is something on your mind, Tom, lad, that maybe I don't guess and maybe I do. Tell it me—it's the only way—and I'll help you out as best I can. I'm only a rough chap at best, but I mean well. Don't you go to being afraid of me, Tom, lad ! We're comrades, you and mo, Tom. Tell it me—do!"

And -then, as though some good angel were bending above the homeless, lonely, ill-need boy, he started up in the strange darkness and silence of the barn and grasped his companion's hands as though so he would keep fast hold of his now courage, and with a vehemence startling in one so cowed, hia wan face quivering—could his friend but know —half terror, half daring in his wild eyes, he cried beneath his breath :

"You're the only one aa hag evor been good to me eence—senee—he died, Mr John, an' I'll tell you; but—" Again that quivering aod paling and terror and a horrified glance backward into the darkness of the barn—once more if jonly the man could have eeen !—"Lord-Mr John .'—if they had heard me breathe it or dreamed that I knowed—they'd kill me, too ! They'd kill me, they would !"

LTO BE CONTINUED.]