[{"node":{"title":"Hanna047","Collections":"Part One","Contributor":"Linen Hall Library","Coverage":"1951","Creator":"Linen Hall Library","Date":"Thursday, April 7, 2016","Format":"TIFF","Identifier":"Hanna047","Item Description":"Manuscript","Keywords":"Clock, Boots","Language":"English","Path":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/hanna047","Publisher":"Linen Hall Library","Relation":"Linen Hall Library","Rights":"Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA","Scanned image":{"src":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Hanna047_0.jpg","alt":""},"Source":"LHL Archive","Transcript":"42\n\nSarah, your mother\u2019s heart\u2019s sore for ye this day,\u201d She dabbed her eyes\n\nwith her black cotton gloves and walked slowly towards the church coach-\n\nhouse. the broad road before the coach-house was empty now, and when she\n\nlooked into the Echlin\u2019s box in the stable two or three sparrows were\n\nquarreling on the floor of it.   They hae forgotten me' she said, sitting\n\ndown on the bench that ran along the wall. After a little while she\n\narose and set out on the homeward road.\n\nHamilton, coming from the byre, saw the trap sitting in the close,\n\nits shafts in the air. An uneasy feeling made him hasten into the house,\n\nthe hands of the clock pointed to twenty minutes past one. lie hurried\n\nout to the stable and pushed open the ton-door. Both hors-s stood in\n\ntheir stalls, \"Hell roast his soul\" he muttered, 'he\u2019s forgotten the\n\nould woman.\" He went to the middle of the close and putting his hands\n\nto his mouth hallooed on his brother\u2019s name. He paused, expectant, as\n\nhis shout rang over the empty fields. A fe birds rose from the ridge\n\nof the stable and whirred away. Then he called on grab's name and as\n\nhe listened he thought he heard a faint distant sound of laughter. He\n\nled out a horse, pulling cruelly on its mouth, and yoked it, singlehanded,\n\nin the trap.\n\nAbout two miles along the road he came on Martha seated on the ditch.\n\nHe had to dismount and holdover to the trap. hen 3he left the church\n\nshe had vowed to herself that she would refuse to ride with them if they\n\ncame to meet her. But now all her pride was gene; she had lost a glove\n\nsomewhere and her fine buttoned boots, of which she was so proud, were\n\ncoated with mud. t er face was drawn with weariness, and she had to\n\npress her lips together to keep from bursting outright into tears of\n\nmisery and loneliness.\n","Type":"Text"}}]