The Argosy — page 389: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Village Blacksmith. 371 When Janet reached the bottom of the hill, she paused. She was standing on level ground, where the path forked ; the narrow lane she had just come out of went on into the village, but to her left was the open field of greensward between the canal and the Rectory grounds. The canal water, glistening under the silvery moon, looked cold and cruel, and, with a shudder, Janet was turning away and going on to the village when a faint sound, like the wail of an infant, reached her ear. She stood still, holding her heart, lest its loud beat- ing should drown the other sound ; she listened, straining every nerve to catch the welcome sound. Yes, there it was again, faint, but un- doubtedly the cry of an infant. ‘‘ An infant crying in the night, An infant crying for the light, And with no language but a cry.” And from the breaking heart of the mother there went up to heaven a cry in the night—a cry for light to guide her to her lost infant. She moved a step or two in the direction of the cry, and now she was sure, not only that it was an infant, but that it was her infant to whose wailing she was listening. Guided by the crying, she advanced towards the tree, searching the fence in which it stood as she went, when suddenly she remembered how, as a child, she had often hidden things in the hollow tree close by, and, dashing forwards, she threw herself on the ground in front of it, and with trembling hands and streaming eyes, her bosom heaving with heavy sobs, she drew out her precious baby, which was lying on Reuben’s coat just as Mark had left it. Her shawl, which Reuben had wrapped carefully round it, was hanging to its little feet. Inarticulate murmurs, broken words, passionate exclamations of love fell from Janet’s lips between the showers of kisses and tears she rained on the boy, whose crying changed its tone directly he felt his mother’s arms around him. Then she scanned him eagerly in the moonlight, she felt his little soft bones, she strained him to her bosom again and again. And then satisfied that he was whole; though whether so delicate a child would survive the exposure was doubtful enough to cast a shadow over the joy she felt in recovering her lost darling ; she wrapped the shawl round him, and with the skirt of her dress over her own head, she hurried back to the cottage. The danger was not over though the child was found. Reuben might meet her at any moment, and in his delirium kill both her and the child ; for that he could have acted, as he apparently had done, in his sober senses, she would not believe. Her one thought was to escape from him. She didn’t think of her father’s danger ; she didn’t realise it; all she thought of was her child’s safety, and there was no safety for it in Reuben’s cottage. She must leave home at once; GOL GOOO @ Ss (GO)