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which had now sprung brightly up； accosted her once more。
‘I am an outcast； to whom a roof above his head is often an
uncommon luxury； and the food a beggar would reject is delicate
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fare。 You live here at your ease。 Do you live alone？’
‘I do not；’ she made answer with an effort。
‘Who dwells here besides？’
‘One—it is no matter who。 You had best begone； or he may find
you here。 Why do you linger？’
‘For warmth；’ he replied； spreading out his hands before the
fire。 ‘For warmth。 You are rich； perhaps？’
‘Very；’ she said faintly。 ‘Very rich。 No doubt I am very rich。’
‘At least you are not penniless。 You have some money。 You
were making purchases to…night。’
‘I have a little left。 It is but a few shillings。’
‘Give me your purse。 You had it in your hand at the door。 Give
it to me。’
She stepped to the table and laid it down。 He reached across；
took it up； and told the contents into his hand。 As he was counting
them； she listened for a moment； and sprung towards him。
‘Take what there is； take all； take more if more were there； but
go before it is too late。 I have heard a wayward step without； I
know full well。 It will return directly。 Begone。’
‘What do you mean？’
‘Do not stop to ask。 I will not answer。 Much as I dread to touch
you； I would drag you to the door if I possessed the strength；
rather than you should lose an instant。 Miserable wretch！ fly from
this place。’
‘If there are spies without； I am safer here；’ replied the man；
standing aghast。 ‘I will remain here； and will not fly till the danger
is past。’
‘It is too late！’ cried the widow； who had listened for the step；
and not to him。 ‘Hark to that foot upon the ground。 Do you
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tremble to hear it！ It is my son； my idiot son！’
As she said this wildly； there came a heavy knocking at the
door。 He looked at her； and she at him。
‘Let him come in；’ said the man； hoarsely。 ‘I fear him less than
the dark； houseless night。 He knocks again。 Let him come in！’
‘The dread of this hour；’ returned the widow； ‘has been upon
me all my life； and I will not。 Evil will fall upon him； if you stand
eye to eye。 My blighted boy！ Oh！ all good angels who know the
truth—hear a poor mother’s prayer； and spare my boy from
knowledge of this man！’
‘He rattles at the shutters！’ cried the man。 ‘He calls you。 That
voice and cry！ It was he who grappled with me in the road。 Was it
he？’
She had sunk upon her knees； and so knelt down； moving her
lips； but uttering no sound。 As he gazed upon her； uncertain what
to do or where to turn； the shutters flew open。 He had barely time
to catch a knife from the table； sheathe it in the loose sleeve of his
coat； hide in the closet； and do all with the lightning’s speed； when
Barnaby tapped at the bare glass； and raised the sash exultingly。
‘Why； who can keep out Grip and me！’ he cried； thrusting in his
head； and staring round the room。 ‘Are you there； mother？ How
long you keep us from the fire and light。’
She stammered some excuse and tendered him her hand。 But
Barnaby sprung lightly in without assistance； and putting his arms
about her neck； kissed her a hundred times。
‘We have been afield； mother—leaping ditches； scrambling
through hedges； running down steep banks； up and away； and
hurrying on。 The wind has been blowing； and the rushes and
young plants bowing and bending to it； lest it should do them
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harm； the cowards—and Grip—ha ha ha！—brave Grip； who cares
for nothing； and when the wind rolls him over in the dust； turns
manfully to bite it—Grip； bold Grip； has quarrelled with every
little bowing twig—thinking； he told me； that it mocked him—and
has worried it like a bulldog。 Ha ha ha！’
The raven； in his little basket at his master’s back； hearing this
frequent mention of his name in a tone of exultation； expressed his
sympathy by crowing like a cock； and afterwards running over his
various phrases of speech with such rapidity； and in so many
varieties of hoarseness； that they sounded like the murmurs of a
crowd of people。
‘He takes such care of me besides！’ said Barnaby。 ‘Such care；
mother！ He watches all the time I sleep； and when I shut my eyes
and make…believe to slumber； he practises new learning softly； but
he keeps his eye on me the while； and if he sees me laugh； though
never so little； stops directly。 He won’t surprise me till he’s
perfect。’
The raven crowed again in a rapturous manner which plainly
said； ‘Those are certainly some of my characteristics； and I glory in
them。’ In the meantime； Barnaby closed the window and secured
it； and coming to the fireplace； prepared to sit down with his face
to the closet。 But his mother prevented this； by hastily taking that
side herself； and motioning him towards the other。
‘How pale you are to…night！’ said Barnaby； leaning on his stick。
‘We have been cruel； Grip； and made her anxious！’
Anxious in good truth； and sick at heart！ The listener held the
door of his hiding…place open with his hand； and closely watched
her son。 Grip—alive to everything his master was unconscious
of—had his head out of the basket； and in return was watching
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him intently with his glistening eye。
‘He flaps his wings；’ said Barnaby； turning almost quickly
enough to catch the retreating form and closing door； ‘as if there
were strangers here； but Grip is wiser than to fancy that。 Jump
then！’