ught suggested
itself, the old man dropped his hammer, and fixing his eye on the
infant, he seemed to ask himself these questions,--What, if the child
should be dead? would a living child, drop as that did from the back of
the woman on her lap, like a lump of clay, nor move, nor utter a moan,
when thrown across its mother's lap? Urged then by anxiety, he left his
anvil, approached the woman, and stood awhile gazing at the child,
though unable for some minutes to satisfy himself, or to put away the
horrible fear that he might perchance be looking at a body without life.
Mr. Dymock was acting the part of bellows-blower, in order to assist
some work which the young stranger was carrying on in the fire. The lad
who generally performed this service for Shanty, had got permission for
a few hours, to visit his mother over the Border, Mr. Dymock having told
him in all kindness that he would blow for him if needs must. But the
fitful light--the alternate glow and comparative darkness which
accompanied and kept time with the motion of the bellows, made it almost
impossible for the old man to satisfy himself concerning his horrible
imagination. He saw that the infant who lay so still on the woman's lap,
was as much as two years of age; that, like the woman, it had dark hair,
and that its complexion was olive; and thus he was put out in his first
notion, that the child might perchance be a stolen one. But the bellows
had filled and exhausted themselves many times before his mind was set
at rest with regard to his first fearful thought; at length, however,
the child moved its arm, and uttered a low moan, though without rousing
itself from its sleep; on which Shanty, being satisfied, turned back to
his block and his horse-shoe, and another half-hour or more passed,
during which the tempest subsided, the clouds broke and began to
disappear, and the stars to come forth one by one, pointing out the
direction of the heavens to the experienced eye of the night-walking
traveller. The woman observing this, arose, and taking the sleeping babe
in her arms whilst the other child clung to her cloak, she thanked the
blacksmith for the convenience of the shelter which he had given her;
when he, with the courtesy of one who, though poor and lowly, had been
admitted to high conference with his Redeemer, invited her to stay
longer--all night if she pleased,--regretting only that he had nothing
to offer her but a bed of straw, and a sup of sowens for t