Connecticut western news., 1878-09-12
The Mysterious Letter.

1uO MySUcTlOtlS AGIUCf.
 Stella Harding is an orphan, has beer an orphan since her babyhood, and he1 home is with her aunt, Mrs. Marsh, the mother of Aggie Marsh, young lady about her own age, and Tom Marsh, as honest-hearted @ boy as ever lived, but so wilful that only kindness could reach him.
 If there are reserves in Aggie Marsh's affection, the younger girl has never sus- pected the fact, but has poured. out her innocent thoughts, her girlish secrets and condolences, in full assurance of per- feet sympathy. Only within two months have feelings been stirring in her bosom to which she could give no name even to herself only since the light of Reginald Vane's dark eyes has reused her from her dreamy musings to feel the sweet ness of woman's real life. Only vague, undefned feeling as yet-a feeling which she would blush and shiver to see ex- posed to the cold light of day. What, she thinks, has she, raw, ignorant, un- formed girl, that she should attract the notice of one whom all the village re- gards as the match of the day And yet, yet there have been moments when Reginald Vane's eyes have told her that for him she is the one fair woman be- meath the sun" and her heart has leaped beneath the vague sweet assurances which his lips have never yet spoken. One of those moments came yesterday, when, too thrillingly glad for ordinary speech, she turned away, flushing and quivering, to hide her emotion beneath careless jest, and laughter with honest, good-hearted Charlie Lester. And this was the interpretation that Reginald Vane put upon her action, Stella thinks, as, with rounded chin half buried in rosy palm, she leans upon the window-sill, gazing with unseeing eyes over the fair sweep of hill and meadow, dotted with clumps of dark trees and bathed in the September sunlight.
 Aggie is shut up in her own room, has been shut up there ever since a quarrel with Tom about one of those hateful boys story papers that Tom will insist upon reading. Mrs. Marsh is away on a three weeks visit, only half of which has as yet expired. Tom? Tom is buried still in that hateful paper. Stella kpews as well as Aggie how bad it is for him, but Stella's way of dealing with the dif- ficulty is not the same as Aggie's. Quick ly she rouses herself from her bitter dreaming, catches up her hat, and hast ems down stairs.
 Come, Tom, she says, "I want a walk, long, brisk walk, this bright morning. Will you go with me, or must I go alone ?"
 Tom glances up wistfully, hesitates, turns over two or three pages, then dashes down the paper and starts to his feet.
 "I'H go," he says. "I know what you're after, though, Stella" he adds, laughing. !" You and Aggie go differ ent ways to work, like the sun and wind in the fable, you know. You're the sun and Aggie's the wind-myl don't she blow a fellow up, thought aud how much good it does him. It comes to about the same thing in the end, I suppose, if you both get your way, only Aggie's way makes fellow hate her, and yours Say, Stella, l s'pose you'd like it if I put this paper in the fire ?"
 CT should, certainly" says Stella, laughing, though should never have dreamed of asking the sacrifice. You know those papers are not good for you, Tom.
 ''I know. Hold on about that" says Tom, laconically, as he marches off to the kitchen, whence he returns empty. handed. It's gone, Stella," he says 'and if the soup for dinners awful pep pery to-day, you'll know the reason. II may taste of gunpowder too, shouldn't wonder. There was plenty of it in the story. It was boss story, though, ' says Tom, heaving a sigh to it's departed glories.
 They had long and agreeable walk, Stella particularly happy that she had  succeeded with Tom and Tom happy that he had made Stella so.
 "Letters for you P cries Tom, burst ing into the house the next morning Letters for both of you. Two fol Aggie and one for Stella. Who's it from Stella? don't know the hand, but it'l some fellow or other"
 Stella takes up the letter which Ton had thrown into her lap, and looks at i curiously, scans the inscription and th' plain, unmeaning mucilage-fastened flap which, unlike the dear old tell-tale seal sbetrays no secrets. Tom watches hel with eager and open curiosity. Aggie', dark eyes are fixed upon her face too peering over the edges of the lette which she seems to be reading. A lool of surprise lights up Stella's beautiful eyes as she reads the first words of tn,