Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 18, 2025
"Ey, ey," she mumbled, "it'll stop their match-makin'. Ey, ey, and what's mair, what's mair, it'll bring yon Ralph back helter-skelter." "Mother, mother," cried the blacksmith, "can you never leave that ugly thing alone?" The next day or two passed by with Rotha like a dream.
He would be banished perhaps for years." "Still, I think he ought to know." Rotha spoke calmly and slowly, but with every evidence of suppressed emotion. "My dear Rotha," said Willy in a peevish tone, "I understand this matter better than you think for, and I know my brother better than you can know him. There would be no pardon, I tell you. Ralph would be banished."
The sheriff said something to him which he did not hear. The words were inaudible to the crowd, but the quick sympathy of the great heart of the people caught the unheard message. "A reprieve! a reprieve!" shouted fifty voices. A woman fainted at the window behind. It was Rotha. The two men were led off with staring eyes. They walked like men in a dream. Saved! saved! saved!
The dog was snuffling at it. "What is it?" said Rotha nervously. He did not answer. He was on his knees beside it; his hands were on it. There was a moment of agonizing suspense. "What is it?" Rotha repeated. Still there came no reply. Ralph had risen, but he knelt again. His breath was coming fast. Rotha thought she could hear the beating of his heart. "Oh, but I must know!" cried the girl.
There was a little start of recovering consciousness. "Ralph," she answered, and dropped her head. "True he did it for the best," repeated Willy, and relapsed into silence. "Besides, I had no home then, you know." How steadfastly the girl's eyes were fixed oh the distant south! "You had your father's home, Rotha." "Ah, no! When it ceased to be poor father's home, how could it be mine any longer?
Rotha could hear the beat of her own heart. She plunged from behind the bush one step into the road. Then she drew back. The day was cold but dry, and Mrs. Garth heard the step in front of her. She came walking on with apparent unconcern. Rotha thought of her father and Ralph condemned to die as innocent men.
How happy that night had seemed to her then to be happy, at least, until the end! She had even sung under the moonlight. But her songs had been truer than she knew terribly, horribly true. One lonely foot sounds on the keep, And that's the warder's tread. Step by step Rotha retraced every incident of that night's walk; every word of Ralph's and every tone.
"Worse; what's worse, lass?" said Sim, changing color. "Outlawry," said Rotha. "What's that, girl? what's outlawry? nothing to do with with with Wilson, has it?" said Sim, speaking beneath his breath, and in quick and nervous accents. "No, no: not that. It means that unless Ralph is delivered up within fourteen days this place will be taken by the bailiffs of the Sheriff."
"Do I?" she answered, and wondered if the merciful Father above would ever, ever, ever let this bitter hour pass by. "No, it's worry, Rotha, that's it; you're not well, that's the truth." Willy would have been satisfied to let the explanation resolve itself into this, but Rotha broke silence, saying, "What if it were not good news " The words were choking her, and she stopped.
And the angel of the Lord was indeed with them in that little cottage among the desolate hills. Rotha rose up and turned to Garth. "Under the shadow of death," she said, "tell me, I implore you, how and when you committed the crime for which father and Ralph are condemned to die to-morrow." Mrs. Garth had returned once more to her seat. The blacksmith's strength was failing him.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking