I have found him! From this hill-top where I am sitting I see the town where he lives in comfort and honor—the very house that shelters him. The smoke of his fire comes up to me. It is a bitter cold day, and I have eaten nothing, but I feel neither cold nor hunger. From the day when I started on this last sure trail everything has been against me. I have been sick; I have found no work; I have begged my bread; I have been hunted for the crimes of others; I have borne abuse, scorn, insult. The very lowest depth of misery and humiliation has been reached. But that is all nothing: my purpose is to be accomplished. The end is near.
I reached this spot to-day at noon, and sat down here to rest a bit before going down into the town to make assurance sure. Soon after, a party of children came up the hill with their sleds. When they saw me they ran, except one little lass of seven or eight. She stood still and looked at me, as if too scared to move. I know I am terrible to look at—I have seen my face in pools of water as I drank—but I would not fright the child, and I tried to make my voice gentle as I said:
“Don’t be scared, little one; I won’t hurt you.”
Just then the sun came out of a cloud and struck across her face and hair. I cried out, I could not help it. It was Barbara’s face and hair, but the eyes were his.
“Stop!” I said, as the child started off. “What is your name?”
“Barbara,” she answered, and then: “If you are hungry,” she said, “mamma will give you something to eat. We live down yonder in the brown cottage.”
I stared at her, shutting my teeth together.
“Maybe papa would give you some money,” she said again. “He is such a good man, my papa is.”
I burst into a laugh. The little lass’s fear came back, and she turned and ran away.