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Ingraham, J. H. (Joseph Holt), 1809-1860 [1847], Blanche Talbot, or, The maiden's hand: a romance of the war of 1812 (Williams Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf205].
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CHAPTER III. THE CIRCLE ABOUT THE HEARTH-STONE.

The tall, stout woman in the corner
was in the meanwhile breaking up in her
hands, piece by piece, one the panels of
the shutter, and laying it upon the fire,
not with lavish waste, but with an air of
close, calculating economy of the fuel.
The mother watched cheerfully the
seething stew, and occasionally reached
over to see how the maiden's corn-cake
was coming forward. Altogether, it was
a scene of happiness! Poverty, cold and
starvation had been driven from the spot
by Feather Few's shutter.

`Do you see, Mr. Jarvey, how much
good your shutter has done? You have
not done so much yourself in all your
life. So let the good that is here done
be done, and let us go our way; though
first I would recommend you, if you
want to sleep sound, to leave with them
a five dollar note. They can buy wood
and food with it, and will not be tempted
to steal; though I do not call this stealing,
what has been done to-night!'

`You're as bad as the rest,' cried Jarvey,
in a loud tone. A pretty watchman,
to defend theft! I want to know
if you're going to go in and take up that
woman? Do it at once, or lose your
place, David Dalton!'

This was spoken in an elevated tone;
and David, who was still looking through
the window, saw by their startled looks,

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that they had overheard his words above
the racket of the storm. Every eye
was turned quickly and alarmingly to
the window.

`Yes, I must do it, I suppose,' answered
David, `and now as well as
any time.'

He left the window and approached
the door. Feather-Few came close to
his heels. David opened his lantern to
find the latch, and then pressed upon
the door to open it, as the latch did not
lift up.

`Is it fastened?' asked Jarvey,
quickly.

`Yes, it seems so!'

`Then kick it in! you're a strong
man! kick it in! It is old and rickety!
Break it down! The law will allow it,
because you are an officer in discharge
of your duty. Pity but you'd discharged
it better and I should'nt been
out in this snow-storm at this time o'night
running the risk of the umbago
and rheumaties!'

David's children and his wife starving
and calling upon him for bread rose to
his mind.

`It is either they so dear to me or
these!' he cried! If I let these escape
mine will suffer! God forgive me!'

With this ejaculation he drove his iron
heel against the door. It burst from its
hinges, opening the reverse of its natural
mode, for the fastening upon the latch
was stronger than the rusty hinges and
screws. He found himself in a dark
passage. The floor creaked and bent
alarmingly to his weight, for David was
a large formed man as well as a large
hearted man.

He opened his lantern and saw that
the place that he was in was a square
entry with a door-way before him, the
door gone, probably for fire-wood,
and a vacant room beyond. On his
right was a closed door, which he knew
from its situation must open directly into
the room where he had seen the wretched
and interesting family rejoicing over
the fragments of the miser's shutter.

The miser stood behind him shivering
with the cold, yet in his own chilliness
he felt not for others who suffered from
cold. He was too selfish to feel the
woes of his fellow-beings. Nothing was
evil unless it were evil to himself? Instead
of pitying, those in the room saw
that he felt on his own form how painful
cold was, even when unaccompanied by
hunger, he cursed them for heing the
cause of his sufferings; when the true
cause was his own avarice and inhuman
revenge that brought him out of his
bed at night. Bad men are always inclined
to make many distinctions. It is
a pleasure to correct that made by Mr.
Jarvey.

He stood shivering behind David, and
grasping in one hand a stout cudgel. He
stood behind David because he was a
timid man, and liked to be second when
danger might be before him; and he
grasped the cudgel because he was a
coward; for he did not know, his craven
soul whispered, but that the woman
might show fight—might seize some
murderous weapon to defend herself,
and perhaps kill or do him damage. He
knew that men had been killed by women;
and a woman that was poor
enough to steal a shutter was bad
enough to murder him when he come
after it.

So between cowardice and avarice
Feather-Few trembled and kept close
behind the tall stalwart watchman. His
tremors were lest he should be harmed,
yet his avarice kept him close to David,
that if the woman attempted to escape
he might be in the way to knock her
down with his cudgel.

David knocked upon the door, and
pausing two or three seconds, raised the

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latch and entered. His quick eye showed
him at a glance, that the tall stout female
with the handkerchief about her temples
had disappeared.

The young girl was standing by the
bed-side clasping her arms around the
boy as if to encourage him, while at the
same time her cheek was pale, and her
fine dark eyes expanded with alarm.

Yet she stood firm, and gazing upon
the open door and at the figures of the
watchman and his companions.

The woman who had taken the shutter
was standing by the fire with the
cake in her hand as if just about to place
it upon the table. David saw that her
cheek was flushed, and that she looked
very much frightened, yet tried to assume
a look of composure. Indeed, he
thought she had caught up the cake to
appear, to whoever entered, to be quietly
engaged about domestic duties. There
was more than sudden surprise at being
intruded upon at such an hour in such a
manner, he thought visible in the features
of both; a certain manner like
that of suspicion; precisely, it occurred
to him like the aspect guilty persons
would wear at the appearance of officers
of justice. But that it was guilt he
could not believe; for he was confident
that the woman in taking the shutter
from the snow, took it without the least
idea that she was committing a theft.
If, then, it was guilty apprehension that
alarmed them, he felt that it must be
for something else, besides fear of being
called to account for the shutter.

Jarvey saw with his quick, jealous
eyes this expression of guilty alarm, at
least, so he interpreted it, and calling
out in a shrill, savage voice, in which
was mingled a tone of triumph, said,

`So, so! you may well look guilty!
Caught in the very act of burning up
my shutter! You must go to jail for it.'
And Feather-Few brandished his cudgel
as he spoke, and running up to the
hearth, tore from the flames a piece of
the shutter that had just began to ignite.
`Seize 'em, watchman!'

`It is only for the shutter then, thank
God!' exclaimed the woman, looking
very much relieved.

David heard the exclamation, and saw
the instant change in her manner with
surprise.

`There is something they have done
worse than taking the shutter then,' he
thought to himself. `But that is not my
affair.'

He looked around again searchingly
for the broad-shouldered woman, but
could neither see her, nor see where she
could have disappeared. He thought it
strange she should have hidden herself;
but as his business lay with the one who
remained, he turned his attention to her,
where she still stood before the hearth
with the half-baked cake in her hands,
her eyes fixed upon his face with mingled
alarm and curiosity.

`I am very sorry, ma'm, said David,
but I fear I shall have to take you off
to the watch-house. I don't like to
trouble poor folks, for poverty is burden
enough, but you were seen to take—'

`Steal, Dalton, steal!' interrupted the
little iron-monger, looking at the poor
woman as if he would annihiiate her
with his eyes.

`Well steal then, though I don't look
upon it in that light, Mr. Jarvey. You
were seen ma'm to steal the shutter as
it was blowed off from the window, and
I have tracked you here, and found the
shutter burning on your hearth.'

`Yes, woman, and you must go to
jail for it!' cried the little man. `It is
my shutter! my property! The wind
blew it down and you catches it up and
runs of with it. Downright larceny!
Take her watchman!'

`Indeed sir,' answered the woman

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trembling and looking very much frightened
at the mention of the jail, `indeed
sir,' and she turned her large tearful
eyes upon the iron-ribbed visage of the
dimunitive looking iron-monger, `indeed
sir, I did not steal it. I saw it lying upon
the snow. I was out searching for fire-wood,
hoping that the blast would unloose
some shingles, or cast something
up that I might have wherewith to make
a fire to cook food, for we have been
nearly perishing.'

`A pretty excuse! I tell you it's no
excuse at all! Every thief might plead
that he wanted what he stole! a pretty
pass the world would come to! What is
your poverty to me? I don't know you.
You are no relation to me that I should
have to supply you with fire-wood; and
if you was I wouldn't. Relations are
blood-suckers! I havn't but one in the
world, and I'll make more out o' him
than he ever will out o' me! I hate
poor people! Come, no whining, you
must go! Lay hands on her, Dalton.'

`I'll arrest her, Mr. Jarvey, but I'll
not lay hands on any woman save in
kindness, answered David. `Come ma'm
put on your things, for you must go with
me to the watch-house.'

Oh! sir, have compassion!' cried the
poor woman clasping her hands. `You
look like a kind man; you look as if
you pitied our poverty; you speak mildly.
Oh! do not drag me away from my
child! See my dear boy there! he has
been lying for weeks ill with the typhus
fever. He is just beginning to get well,
and he would have been well long ago
if I could have given him proper nourishment.
'

`Oh, do not tear me from my children.
I did not steal—oh, I did not intend to
steal your shutter, sir,' she cried turning
from David to the miser, and clasping
her hands before him. `Do not send me
to jail, I cannot go. I will work and pay
for your shutter; I knew not that it was
good for anything but to burn; I found
it in the street, and in the snow. Have
pity on me and mine!'

`You can't move me, woman,' said
Jarvey with a cold smile. `I have heard
women talk, and don't mind tears and
stage-action. You stole the shutter, this
watchman here saw you; if it had been
no more than a shingle blown from my
roof, you had no right to it; it was mine.
So, stop your cries, and come along with
us.'

`Mother, dear mother, you shall not
be torn from us,' cried the boy springing
from the bed and flying to her side, where
he stood with his thin hand clenched and
his bright sick eyes flashing with proud
defiance.

`Sir,' exclaimed the young girl approaching
David, and laying her hand
upon the sleeve of his rough coat, and
gazing up into his face with earnest looks,
`oh do not take away my mother; she is
innocent of any intention of wronging
any one. Sir, we are very poor, and
suffering for every necessary of life.—
My mother weut out in the storm hoping
Providence would direct her to some fuel
that we might not perish for want of fire
and of food. She found this shutter in
this street; she seized it and brought it
home with scarce strength to lift it;
yet joy gave her the strength she had
not else. Had you seen her face lighted
with smiles as she entered with it, sir,
and witnessed our joy at the thought that
we should have fire, and could took the
little food we had to eat. She did not
mean to take what was of value to another.
Do not drive her to prison, sir!
She is our mother, and poor as we all
are, we live only in being together. If
you take her you will only increase our
wretchedness, already more than we can
well bear! You look kindly, sir, I know
that you are not hard-hearted; tears

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tremble in your eyes, even now. Oh sir,
be pitiful and have compassion on a
wretched family, for though very poor,
sir, we are honest.'

`Gammon!' ejaculated Jarvey in a
tone of contempt.

`Silence, Mr. Jarvey,' cried David with
stern indignation. `You have no right
to insult misfortune. I believe on my
soul you have got no more heart than a
fish.'

`I want to know are you goin' to take
this woman, or not, David Dalton? If
you aint then I'll go and see if I can't get
an officer, and if I cross that are threshhold
to go after one, you are no longer
one o' the city watchmen if I can get you
broke.'

`You see, ma'am how it is,' said David
with evident emotion. `Mr. Jarvey says
if I don't take you off, he'll get me turned
out o' my place. I saw you take the
shutter, and didn't trouble you, for I
knew that you wanted it, or you wouldn't
have been abroad in such a night so
poorly clad. But the owner heard the
shutter blow off, and saw you take it and
go away with it. He came down, as
you see him in cap and coat, with his
lantern, and said I must pursue you or
he would inform against me, and get me
turned out. I would gladly have refused
ma'am, but I am a poor man, and have a
family and I don't know what else I could
do, as in these hard times, my trade,
which is that of a house-wright is overrun
and I can't get work, for nobody's
building. All I live by is my watchman's
wages. So I had to come, and I would
rather now pay three dollars than make
you go with me; but what can I do? I
offered to pay him for the shutter, but he
won't have nothing less than the mean
revenge of putting you into jail. It goes
against my heart to do this, but either
you or I must be the victim.'

`Then I will go,' answered the woman
firmly. `You have shown yourself to be
a good and honest man and I see that
you feel for me, and are only doing your
duty.'

`Hear that, Mr. Jarvey. Do you see
what a noble creature you would drag to
jail for taking a piece of wood to keep
her family from perishing. Come, Jarvey,
be a man for once, and see how it
feels to do a good action. Let the woman
alone, and let us go.'

`I tell you I will not yield an inch,'
answered the iron-monger. `If you
won't take her I will,' and he extended
his hand to place it upon the woman's
shoulder, when the boy, who all the while
stood before her in an attitude to protect
her, struck him a blow in the face so that
he staggered back. He uttered a yell of
fury, not pain, for the blow was not
heavy though given with will, and made
a stroke with his cudgel at the head of
the woman. It was caught by the open
palm of David.

`Stop, Feather-Few; you have only
got what you deserve, and I only wish
it had been a little more. Dare to harm
either of them and I will take you in my
arms and toss you through the window
as I would a cat.'

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Ingraham, J. H. (Joseph Holt), 1809-1860 [1847], Blanche Talbot, or, The maiden's hand: a romance of the war of 1812 (Williams Brothers, New York) [word count] [eaf205].
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