Connecticut western news., 1879-03-05
is not your lord and master yet Rouse

l 4uou, us recaIleQ MAX s DehaV1Or, all my rebellious blood rushed in tor rent to my face. "Ah, my dear," I said, holding approvingly to my double, "I see you are assuming your war paint"
 Then sat down to consider the mat ter, and the longer I pondered over it the angrier I became, and at last came to the conclusion that Max had tired of me and had used this opportunity as Q preliminary step toward breaking the bonds of which he had grown weary. We'll, if there was to be any jilting done, preferred to do it myself, so went straight to my writing-desk and wrote the hatefulest note was capable of writing, and at the end gave him back his freedom and banished bim forever. retired to rest feeling as triumphant as commander who had outgenera led the enemy, but did not sleep well.
 The next morning Sylvie came to my room to borrow some hairpins and saw the letter lying on my desk.
 "Shall post your letter, Nab ?" she inquired.
 I assented, sleepily.
 Sylvie takes 8 morning walk for her complexion, whenever the weather per mits, but I prefer morning nap. If had not been so sleepy I might have wondered at Sylvie's unusual friendli- ness, for 1t is not her custom to trouble herself with favors. especially for me.
 Well, I finished my nap at last and by that time the letter was we'll on it's way. All at once realized what I had done, and repented my rashness, but it was too late; I must take the consequences.
 "Whatever possessed me? Why did I write that letter?' cried, wringing my hands despairingly. "Max will now know what horrid little wretch I am, for I showed myself right out, and besides told him never wished to see his face again, and Max is SO proud, he will never forgive me, and it will serve me just right, too.''
 "Oh wish had that letter back. If only Sylvie Marsden hadn't been quite so accommodating
 Several days passed and heard noth- ing from Max. -.
 l found it>dificult to appear like my self, but tried to hide my misery, for dreaded to have Aunt Marsden discover the quarrel. I could imagine the air of calm resignation with which she would say, I have been expecting this.''
 This morning I was sitting alone by the breakfast-room fire, thinking what 8 miserable Christmas it was, and won- dering why couldn't have died years ago when was child, when the bell rang, and Kate came in with a letter and package addressed to me.
 I knew the handwriting-Max is splendid penman-and I looked at the envelope several minutes, but could not make up my mind to open it and read my sentence. I knew very well what the package contained had once given Max little locket of mine to place with the other charms upon his watch chain, and now he had returned it. I remem- Der he clipped tiny curl from my head and placed it inside the locket. Had he sent back the curl, too?
 With eager hands unwrapped the box and found-not my poor little trinket-but an elegant cameo ring. What did it mean?
 The note explained. He had sent me "little apology" he wrote, in the shape of Christmas gift, hoping it would atone for his unkindness. Would I please accept it, and forgive him. He had been quite angry at first, but on considering the matter had seen that he was too nasty. He had waltzed with Sylvie because she had asked him, it be- ing the "ladies choice," of course he could not refuse, and he did not really blame me for retaliating, and waltzing with MT. Champney.
 So it seems he thought I waltzed with Reggy to repay him for waltzing with Sylvie. Still I was puzzled. Not a word about my note, and how Max D'Arcey could forgive me and forget his pride could not imagine.
 While I was trying to solve this rid dle, Sylvie came in. A sudden thought l struck me. "Sylvie," I said, abruptly, " did you post my letter" ?"
 She hesitated as if to collect her thoughts.
 "Don't you remember?" l said, i'm patiently, " the one you offered to post the other morning."
 Really I forgot all about it," she re- piled, carelessly, "here it is now," drawing it from her pocket and tossing it across the table to me. "I hobe wasn't particularly important" she added somewhat sarcastically. l
 My heart gave a great throb, but I ] tried to say, indifferently, that it was of no consequencA.
 Wasn't glad to get that letter again. went directly to my room, dropped it in the fire, and saw it burn with great satisfaction.
 There is another thing that puzzles me, and that is, how Sylvie Marsden, who never was known to forget anything in her life, should have forgotten to post that letter. I almost think she forgot it intentionally. to vex me. We'll if it gives her any satisfaction, I will allow her to think she has succeeded in her design.