e to buy summat she wanted. It wur a bright
moon light neet, just such a neet as this, an' th' lass had followed me
out to see th' moonshine, it wur so bright an' clear; an' just before
I starts she folds both her hands on my shoulder an' says, soft an'
thoughtful:--

"'Tim, I wonder if th' little chap sees us?'

"'I'd loike to know, dear lass,' I answers back. An' then she speaks
again:--

"'Tim, I wonder if he'd know he was ours if he could see, or if he'd ha'
forgot? He wur such a little fellow.'

"Them wur th' last peaceful words I ever heerd her speak. I went up to
th' village an' getten what she sent me fur, an' then I comn back. Th'
moon wur shinin' as bright as ever, an' th' flowers i' her slip o' a
garden wur aw sparklin' wi' dew. I seed 'em as I went up th' walk, an' I
thowt again of what she'd said bout th' little lad.

"She wasna outside, an' I couldna see a leet about th' house, but I
heerd voices, so I walked straight in--into th' entry an' into th'
kitchen, an' theer she wur, Mester--my poor wench, crouchin' down by th'
table, hidin' her face i' her hands, an' close beside her wur a mon--a
mon i' red sojer clothes.

"My heart leaped into my throat, an' fur a min nit I hadna a word, fur
I saw summat wui up, though I couldna tell what it wur. But at last my
voice come back.

"'Good evenin', Mester,' I says to him; 'I hope yo' ha'not broughten
ill-news? What ails thee, dear lass?'

"She stirs a little, an' gives a moan like a dyin' child; and then she
lifts up her wan, brokenhearted face, an' stretches out both her hands
to me.

"'Tim,' she says, 'dunnot hate me, lad, dunnot. I thowt he wur dead long
sin'. I thowt 'at th' Rooshans killed him an' I wur free, but I amna. I
never wur. He never deed, Tim, an' theer he is--the mon as I wur wed to
an' left by. God forgi' him, an' oh, God forgi' me!'

"Theer, Mester, theer's a story fur thee. What dost ta' think o't?
My poor lass wasna my wife at aw--th' little chap's mother wasna his
feyther's wife, an' never had been. That theer worthless fellow as beat
an' starved her an' left her to fight th' world alone, had comn back
alive an' well, ready to begin agen. He could tak' her away fro' me any
hour i' th' day, and I couldna say a word to bar him. Th' law said my
wife--th' little dead lad's mother--belonged to him, body an' soul.
Theer was no law to help us--it wur aw on his side.

"Theer's no use o' goin' o'er aw we said to each other i' that dark
ro