THE TURN OF AN ACCIDENT.

Western Star, Issue 377, 4 September 1880, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE TURN OF AN ACCIDENT.

It was 6 o'clock of a crisp October morning, and John Boyd, farmer, rousing from his sound night's sleep, sprang out of bed with the alert readiness of a man who knows the value of the first hours of the day. It was a tavern bed from which he jumped; home and its cares were many miles away; but a J&ngf ride lay before him, and. he washed ismd"; dressed briskly, as one in haste, humming JB cheerful air meanwhile, as became a,man. who felt himself in good spirits, and'haa ample reasons for being so. For, be it known, this year has-prpyed-.thisibestifor-laimers since John had been his own master. Harvests had been large, prices high, and John, on his way back from the annual market, carried a sense of freedom an& l ttberatrd"fi sit his heart-from, the final,extinguishment; of a, mortgage on his mortgage whjchjbad pressed as heavily' oh bis'ccpscience, as did the burden of ..'Christian' pif his shotddjersj The burden ' was >.lifjfced', npw,;, ancL fuijtjbifir than that, John carried in his fat red wallet two hundred dollars, over and abpve, toward the expenses of the next year'.' 'He'bad never been so " forehanded." and the sensation was a joyful ouei:.:,/i'. f, My.'neckis crat-'of the collar now, "he.muttered ;toj himself ;as he brushed his tnickbrownhajir. v -" I should be a fool indcedlifXput itoini again;'''iNb more ; mortgages ifor me !!'.'...Then,!his 1 toilette completed, he ran down',staks , ,i<tw'o steps at a time. ... o-joilw twol J'i y'--'- ; ■ ■■\ &l '\

his first visit was to hishorses. They were munching their corn satisfactorily-; and. after a look or two. and s. pat,; John returned . to, his inn,, > .where i !»i i jangling bell announced.. breakfast. oltirwasfsmoking-'on .the table-—a substantialmealofithidkiridcuniversal in taverns; thirtylyears ago ;>s,ii& John Boyd, whose appetite was\.ofila<>kihd proverbially said to accompany, at good conscience, was doing it ample when a sudden instinct Jed- himtoihrus't his hand into the inner docket whiehiheld the two hundred dollars. The wallet was.gone.-:;:; d.r \iwiAi ,In the suddenness,of the shocks John felt himself, pale, and theriLflush;painfully; as he confusedly tried to remember >if hehad taken out the wallet,.and Wihensi lUndenhis.pillow —that was it. He recollected! jdistinctly, br-so it seemed, putting it.there',. for security's sake, when he went to bed the night before.' h With a muttered .excuse,; be-;,felt rthejltabie'and hurried up stairs.' The door iof his room stood .open, and. aiitiaidrservantWiaSjputtinjgfcresh sheets, on the be.d,:ithe scdledllinenilyingfinia heap.on,the floor,;I * iilv I t tl Jr f*n« {.lodfua . Toward this heap John hnrried;jandibegan :.turning,it,QV.er,.vJ)i l .'i sd y;ii[ bice saotadq . , n Have you jlosfe; something};sin??'-asked themaid...-. ■. „fo «J ,v/w imH s:

.j John straightened; himself .up[t>ta , answei'. j He had not noticed •.the/maadjhelore^fthopgh ! ;she; had-waited at eUppersnoNow he observed that she -was youngiamd rather pretty—fair,; with ia.trimy -/slenders; ifigure, .beautiful glossy dressed land .braided, and a paii~bfj sweety! Japprehensiye .blue eyes. , .Hex.vojee wasisofb, too jrand she a shy, modest m'annen which; suggested an; idea .of- refinemenf.f iiAll "these/facts Farmer Boyd i absorbed < in stincfeively. that .wonderfully rapid ,process;©£ which ithe •human mind isi capable.-wMleyefchisithoughife ■were: full of his money, andfchisilnssle't itiirg-ia "Yes. ;I,am looking for imy. .wallet, which I left under my pillow. i.DidiyoJi : nndiiti'.'.([ The girl's face blanched [to & deadly,whiteness, and her; eyes dilated- as [.with; sudden terror. '• <■:..:-.:' i hnayioaiiT .emimib

" No, sir," she. saidjiherJ yoice>Stiiemblingi and sinking away.as;shespoke 1 .! Itt.'ldidhit 1 • see'any wallet,.";:;, -j , ullaßpsao hn ao'aulai . John, looked at I her rdistru,dtf idty :?-'bui -there, was.ispmething. in.theipale-'fac'e' which disarmed suspicion, ■icii jloiih gniyslia ''l'd like.to search*.thebed,";hecwenton. " It •may. have slipped under theimtattress.3V Together they;tumed the mattress, Jbuirio wallet was visible. : iwuJWn ban a-wo dil-fr

" That off horse. Of yours has got Ms shoe! loose somehow, ".' announced; Mh oNashjqthie j landlord, at the d00r..., „"£ thought I'd better) tell you, so's you could stop at the blacksmith's as,you pass,.and~get Jiini to put in a! couple of nails. Why, what's thematter?" , John explained. ' ,', r n' ; •)' v'i/ II - The landlord looked vfe^y,'grave. ? e \ -wKiatloi isoitVy to liimself for a minute. With', his eyes fixed on the.tumbled bedding j then he went to the stair head" and called hisi •wife. Presently they came : ifl■together, the! landlady's face very red and troubled. "Such a thing never-happened in myhouse before," she' protested.'' ;n <* But'there's only one person been in-yoiirrooni'since you came : beside yourself, and<Bhe/s; •the.iperson you . must?.. reckon ; with, " < PPtetingi to the maid, who,'with white .cheeks; and downcast •eyes, leaned against-the .wall/asi.if>: waiting • sentence. '. . . ■_,.■-. A i;*;:. tj!jhoJ

" Oh, indeed, indeed, j didn't take it! I never .saw any".' walietj".'she' said';..but her \ voice was dfpfrned'in Mrs.. Nash's louder tones; •' " "' ' . ..<".'.: ~.,' t ".And pray .who else'took it,' do" you sup- . pose? Who else had the ~cKah'ce ; f Answer me ; that. It serves me just'right for. taking in.'a girl with ho reeomm'end*-a girll didn't know nothing, about, not'.'so -jmiich'. as her name, nor where she comes'fr6ni,'or who her folks are. .'Five weeks all the time she's been in ijhe sir.; but this is the end of 'it.'/ Its the last-time I'll ever have a help, I don't'know, aljl the long and short of,'so you needn't'feel afraid to stop with us again—ho, nor hone of x your friends either ; and as for her, out she packs this day I" "':." --.' ."'-■'"-" " I'd better go for a constable, hadn't I ? if you're sure it was under the pillow you put it," suggested the landlord. : " Oh, don't, please ; please don't," pleaded the girl, weeping violently. . ~ J "Give the gentleman his wallet.back, then, and perhaps be'lHet you off."/ ../ "I can't. I haven't got it. ' I, never saw it. Oh, please believe me. Don't send'me to gaol," she urged. '' ; ' \ ■'','. "', '.'.'.. The landlady only, answered, by a sound expression of disgust, And 'throwing 'her apron over the head, the poor girl m silence, saying no more. ', . ,/'"," ;."'. : ".', , John had held his peace during this altercation, sharply eyeing the parties concerned in it meanwhile. The Nashes he knew' some'; thing about. They were of good reputation as far as he was awai-e.' The maid was a stranger to them, as to hini'; but spite of the circumstances, and'her manner, which '. was hardly less suspicious, he could not bring himself to believe her guilty.' He was not a hasty man, and he was a just one, with a kind heart to back his temperate judgments j and after a few minutes' reflection, he made up his mind what to do. - >, ... • •■■•■•'. j " I can't swear that.:l put the wallet under the pillow, or anywhere else," he said. '' I'm pretty sure that I did, but my thoughts about it are confused somehow, and it.may be that I left it at Bolton, where I slept on Tuesday, I don't want injustice done on my account. So don't cry like that,"— addressing himself to the girl. ""I'll tell you.what I'll do. Get the bay shod during,the day, will, you ?"—to Mr. Nash—" and if you'll lend me a saddle I'll ride back to Bolton and .make inquire there. If I find the money, well and good ; if I don't, it'll be time enough to talk further about it to-morrow." ' . ■ ~ ~- : ;

"I'm sure it's very good of you to take bo much trouble," declared the, landlady, " But whether or no, the girl don't stay here. I'll have no suspected thief in my house." " There'll be nothing to, suspect her of if I find the wallet," rejoined John, dryly. " Don't give the poor thing a bad name till you know that she deserves it."' Then he left the room, unmindfulof the look of gratitude which shone upon him from the blue

eyeß of the girl, who had dropped her apron, and gazed after him till he was out of sight. His reflections were not agreeable as he retraced his footsteps over the dusty highway travelled but yesterday with so light a heart. The loss of his money meant a great deal to John Boyd. The pressure of anxiety seemed to settle again upon his shoulders, as he thought over the probabilities of its non-re-covery. 'VBut I won't give in without a fight for iC" he thought, grimly, as he urged on ais horse;: Miles seemed doubly long "when measured by a heavy heart, WWV "Witfe d'ustrheat, and the continual effort to ..clear his -mental confusion as to where and when the 'last had seen his wallet, the young farmer was fagged and dispirited enough be'fdre'noon was"fairly come. ' : "Bolton's your only chance," hesaid. ( "lf 'twas on the road you dropped it, there s no likelihood that you'll oiit again. The' dust's eight'inches deep, I should say, and there's'been-three big droves of sheep andooneiof [.bullocks along since yesterday, so if your wallet was a-lying'there, they must have, trampled, it - under pretty,thoroughly. It. > buried f deep enough, you may be sure, which! Is just likely to. happen, some one-has 'picked it up and made off with it. is a slim one, I reckon. ■ 'Coin* comfort this 'Mi Jqhn was forced to agree with the opinion. .Desppndingly he rode through'the afternoon, scanning the way as he' ■went.) fori I 'despite the toll-keeper, a faihlr hope still lingered in his heart, though the-'track;'deep in'dust, and churned and trampled' by the crdwding droves, presented a soiW field or discovery, i, He had,gaine'd=the tdp of a long hill, from which Bolton was dimly-visible, when a moving object ; far. ahead-caught his eye; and he rose in his stirrups jn orderjtoseemore clearly. BsThe did,''so, ~his. horse made a false step, stumbled and ,threw .Jum, forward m. the saddle;" so ; that' M head grazed the horse s heck. ! 'lt'was'in this position that a tiny object, a patch of red not over an inch square, 'in ; the dust beneath, caught his quick eye. 'His ' heart gave a little leap ; then he called 'himself-a -fool; but all the same he dismounted to examine. Already a random hoof stroke had, buried the red patch from sight, but John recollected the spot, and stooping,^, dugi and scoop.ed until it again became visible. His,fingers recognised a solid 'sdbstahce.' Trembling with excitement, he continued; to'dig; another second object was -uncovered, lifted but, and with a wild, in"'cfcedulbus whooft of joy, John Boyd held in J Ms'H«ha nis-wallet, buried deep by the hurryiitt^', lferds'. ) a)ad' i, imcoVeredfor one passing -momerit kUUt ibis eye might detect it, and no other. Excepfr'fQr that lucky stumble,, he too would have ridden over the lost treasure, and never dreamed what lay beneath his horse|s feet. .'*.'' "'■'] '';' ' '•',. .-.

• J '''i&'d'some'foiks say there ain't no God !" was his mental comment, spoken half. aloud. Then—for John -Boyd's .religion, though homely, wag a r true '.one—rhe bent his head f ,and"said'a few-word's, pf thanksgiving ;; after VhichV 'jumping ; on his horse,, he, took the backwarci mute, eager to tell his good fortune -!an(f eVo'jiera J t|e 'the poor girl, who,' as he now 'ren'iembjered 'with'/self -reproach, have 'parsed apairifuTday under the stigma of undeserved suspicion. ..." .v The heat was yielding. to.., evening freshness, and he urged;his horse, impatient to.set matters straight; but* with,his endeavor, it was after eleven before, he at last drewrein in front of Nash's .hotel'.'.. He was expected, that was evide|n|,-for,;light.s',were ;J hurning l and both Nash'and' his "wife hurried out to meet him, wearing fa'ces of lugubrious length, which only in part'changed to cheerfulness when they heard of the recovery, of the .wallet. *"''- ' ::.• , V."'. <-.. ;,.,''There,:what did I.teHypu?"'.cried.the "husband. ""*" Haven't I, been a-saying,and a-saying all day that likely ".as ,- hot' this scare -would turn..put,all'for'nothing? ;Andyou 'wouldn't listen to a word; but just kept on to'that''poof thing inside there, and she nothing to blame all the .time.- r I.declare. its too bad the,,way women act to! .each other—and''folks calling'them ,* the softer.sex !'. A man -Would be asha'med ; te be so hard. Well, do tell! and so the money was found'a-lying ,th.ere in...the. .dust, all:the "time J, Well, I'm "mighty glad for your sake and burs, too. Go right in, sir, and r wife'll give you some sup.per. - I'll .see-to. the horse. ' 1 ' Mr waited on the meal in grim I'silence. r She. seemed only, half rejoiced at the denouement. ' ; '., .... .", .

—"lt's ~mighty, queer," she remarked, as ''she'setth'elast dish on the table. .""I don't r feel as. if .we'd got'to the bottom, of it yet. .Whyjdi'dn't'Lucy denyindre positiye ?" ( , ~ ../'.•''"But she',' did," "said John, between two .moui;hfos'; J '''''she.'said«he'hadn'tgOtit.'' ; ■ fT + course,', she: said as much as : t f iiat;r .You didp't expectlherto say'that'she 'had got it, did you?"'rejoined-the landlady, with a fine'scorm '/But she didn't'spe'ak.up .violent, and bold,' as you'd expect an innocent f ." But"..sl}e, was j innocent all the time, you .. .."/>:",",' r ',"/«'«I ain't §o. : overßure, abput that,", replied 'jiirs/ Nash,'with'a shap. of her head. '' It's 'a ',,',',/..,/'; ''"'' Now,' look here," shouted 'John, roused by thispersistentinjustice ; "what is there queer about" it, I should like to. know? Here's.'ihiy i- wallet' his pocket—r''»n4A!ye told yph .where I found it." And .ypu; kqpw .as well <#s, 1; do that I never did jput it o uMer n the, pillow, ahd ; that that girl ,qf ypuVftihajd, QQ nipre; to do with it than the babe unborn.,;,lt's her, pardon J.ought.to h.eg," : .and;you,.too. .SoT hope, ma'me, you'll drop.the subject, ; and just make it up to. the poor by being extra kind, as it were, for (the bad day we ve made her spend." ' . ;, ,}drs,Nash seemedibyiuo means mohfied by. jthis appeal, and as soon as ,her .duties .as hp.st.esßj would permit, ileft the room,' muttering under her breath something ; 'which,- John did .not catch. He was too sleepy ito i carei particularly about the :matter, and Eresently went to, b.ed, When dreamless slum_er drew the, veil, over the day's; vicissi : ..tudes. iuaik' ;n« ii>~i '■■ ■ -

Hurryihg.out to the barn the next morning in the,best of spirits, a law sighing sob called Jjis.attention to,a bench outside the kitchen dopr; where sat a figure crumpled up in a forlorn little heap, in Which he recognised the .pretty; maid of i the day before. She wore her bpnnet and a;bundle lay beside her. Her face was-hidden on her arms, which were crossed on the backlof the bench.

.. "Why, what's the matter?" said John, turning back. n\ .■■■ ..:... . , The girl looked up with . a start. " I beg your pardon,"she faltered., "I'm just going. I didn't m'eanito "stay'so long."

■A '• Going?. Where?": a "Idon't know where/'she said dejectedly. •*'Fdtry for another place only there doesn't seem.much chance for getting one without any. recommend.?! , ■■ • • •" Doyou-m'eanto say they are sendingyou away from here?": ■■ .uiUKeaff fd ■:.;•• ■■ ■

• " But, in the name of goodness, why ?" -_■ " I don't know. • Mrs. Nash says she don't liketohave servants about who are suspected of stealing.'! The blue eyes filled again as she spoke, and she hid her face. "By/George! I never heard of such injustice in my -life,", shouted John. " Now, Lucy.if that's your name, you just sit still till I come back.. I'll see. Mrs. Nash. I'll put things right." ■- To put things right seems easy enough to a strong,, hearty man,, with justice and argument on his side, but that is because he does not calculate properly of those queer hitches and crotchets of .human nature, especially woman nature, which have no relation to justice and fair dealing, and are unaffected by arguments. Mis. Nash proved impervious to John's choicest appeals, Her mind was

made up ; she " didn't want to hear no more on the subject;" finally, her temper rising, what business was it of his, she demanded, what help she kept, or if she kept any help at all? He'd got his pocket-book back; accounts were squared between them; there was no further call, so far as she could see, why he should meddle with her concerns. The upshot of the interview was that John flew out of the kitchen with his face as red as fire, tackled his horse, threw valise and feed bags into the wagon, flung the amount of his reckoning on the table, and addressing Lucyj'whb, pale and terrified, stood, bundle in hand, prepared for flight, called out: "Now, then, my good girl, you've lost one place by my fault, and I'm darned if I don't offer you another. Will you jump into my wegon, and go home with me 1 My old woman has been talking this long piece back J of "getting a smart girl to help along, when she's laid up with rheumatics; so you're just the one we want. She'll treat you fairly enough, I'll be bound, and you shall have whatever you were getting here. And if you behave yourself, you'll be well used, not turned out of doors for nothing ; I'll engage to that; it isn't the way up in our parts," with aivindictive look at the landlady, who stood rigidly planted in the doorway. "We don't setup to be extra Christians, but there is a little honesty and decency left among us, which is more than can be said for all places. Well, what do you say ? Yes or no. There's my hand on it, if it's yes." He held out his broad palm. Lucy hesitated, but for a moment only. ;"Yes, I will," she said., "I've nowhere else to go, and you seem kind." Another moment, and they were driving off together down the maple-shaded road, whose yellow and crimson boughs danced overhead against "October's bright blue weather." There were peace and calm in the fresh stillness of the early day. Gradually a little color stole into Lucy's pale cheek, and John's hot mood gave place to wanted good humor and cheer.

"You've had no breakfast, I'll bet," he said, with a smile. " And no more have I. I was so mad with that woman that I couldn't swallow a mouthful, but now I begin to feel sharp enough. We'll stop at the next tavern, South wick, isn't it 1 Five miles and a half Can you hold out till then ?"

'• Oh, yes, indeed," with a grateful look out of the blue eyes. John's tone grew more and more friendly. "We'll have something hot and hearty there," he said. ~." You look. pale. I guess you "didn't sleep any too much last night." " Oh, I couldn't sleep at all. .Mrs. Nash told me that I must go the first thing in the morning, and I felt so bad." '< " I shouldn't think you would want to stay with a woman like that." '.'• But it's so dreadful to have nowhere to go to. And besides—" She stopped abruptly with a look like terror in her eyes. " Have you no friends then ?" asked John. "No." The tone was very reserved; but reserve could hardly fail to melt under so sunshiny a presence as John Boyd's, and before the long day's ride was done he had won from her the main facts of her story. Lucy Dill was her name. Her mother had married for the second time when Lucy was twelve; years old, and three years ago, when the girl was barely, fifteen, had died, leaving her to the protection of her step-father' - "She didn't know what sprt of a man he was," said Lucy. '.'And he wasn't that kind of man y when, she was alive. I was too young to notice much,. and mother always put herself between him and me when things went wrong. After she died it was dreadful. Elkins—that's his son—came home to live. ■He'never lived there before, and—and he—" " WantSd to marry you ?" i "Yes ; and his father said I must. But I was afraid of him—of them both. And people began to come to the house—bad people, not good—and I began to suspect things. "What kind of things?" It was not .easy to get an answer to this question. In fact, the terrified and inexperienced girl had hardly dared to formulate her own fears ;'. but John gathered the idea that coining or unlawful practices were going on, and Lucy, only half comprehending, had understood enough to startle and frighten her into making her escape. She had effected this by night, six weeks before, and her great dread was of being discovered and forced to go back. John reasured her as well as,he could.

- "You'll be just as safe at the farm as if you were in an iron safe," he protested. But, in spite of his assurances; the lurking terror never left Lucy's eyes, though weeks sped safely by, and nothing occurred to alarm her. Every sudden noise made her start; the sighs of a strange figure on the road blanched her roses to paleness. ■ Except for this fearfulness,' she pioved an excellent "help" in all ways—quick, neat-fingered, sweet-tempered. Old Barbara wondered how ever the farm got on without her, and John in his secret heart w° n dered also. It never should be without her again—on that he was firmly resolved;' *'*''. ".Lucy," he said one day, three months after she became an inmate, "I'm tired of seeing yOu jump and quiver and scuttle up stairs whenever the peddler or the ragman comes along. It's bad for you and worries me,almost.to death. Now there's just one. way that'll make all safe and set your mind at ease, and that is, that you should just marry.me out of hand, and give me the right to protect you. Once, my wife, I shouldn't care if your step-father and all the gang came after you ; let them lay a finger on you' at their peril, while I'm alive and have the right to interfere. Will you, Lucy? It's the best thing to be done, trust my word for it. I don't mean to pretend that I'm doing it for your sake entirely," added John, with a broad smile, "for I ain't. I wont you for my own sake the worst way, but both ways it will be a gain ; ; so, unless you have something against me, say. '.Yes,' Lucy, aud we'll have the parson over to-morrow and make all safe. Will you, Lucy ?" "Oh, how could.l have anything against you ? " replied LUcy with the sweetest blush.