Connecticut western news., 1879-08-06

| womanly vile. But Brithrio needed her not, for his heart belonged te another, and he could not forget his Saxon Althea.
 They met often, and the lady used al her srt to ensnaro the noble Saxon. She treated him with lavish courtesy, asked him many questions of his native land and said other things more fattering Matilda of Flanders was very lovely woman, and she was now in the first warm flush of that wor derful beauty She was tall and quce nly, with pleasing features, and rich creamy complexion Her eyes were dark, and her hair, braided with jewels, was black as night. She had many admirers. Suitors fol her hand had appeared from all sides, and several of the most powerful princes of Christendon strove for her favors. But their pleadings had been vain. She cared but for one man, and he was another's. The proud beauty had never seen SO handsome a man in her life before, nor 80 gallant knight, and she was more than anxious to effect his con- quest. But the Saxon's hearj remained unchanged, and he never faltered in his constancy, though beset day by day with the pleadings of the most beautiful lady Tn France. Yet, though his cold ness chilled her, the maiden's love waxed hotter, as doth love SO quencted, and in the end, seirg he spake not, she spake to him. On the day before his departure she asked him to her chamber, and when he was come she told him all her heart. She wept, and said the tears fell that he it Flanders, that none in Flanders had any of her heart save him alone, end at last she whispered that if he fain would be her own true knight he might be even so.
 "Brave Saxon," she exclaimed, in the heat of her passion, " thou cannot but bear love to her who loves thee so ar- dently. My heart is all yours, and l cannot bear refusal. Thou hast told me of the blue-eyed maid who loves thee in thy own land, but is her love to be compared with mine' What is her pale, sickly beauty when thou hast seen my peerless charms? Remember it is Ma tiIda, the Rose of Flanders, who speaks to thee now, and she never asks twice. What sayest thou, noble Brithric, hast thou aught of love for me? and the dark, beautiful woman regarded him with looks of fervent admiration. She was not used to be refused, this spoiIt beauty, and she did not expect to be now. But since it needs must be, the ambassador spoke. He thanked her for her courtesy and kindness, and for the honor she would have done him, but which he must decline, since his hand and his heart were irrevocably plghted to another.
 "Fair lady," he said, "no one can be more sensible of your beauty than l, but have sworn an oath to Ter I love, never to care aught for mortal woman save her only. I pity you, and I respect you much, but I cannot listen to you. It pains me to refuse you, but I must. There are others, l,dy, nobler than I, who love you well listen to them, and fcrget Brithric the Saxon."
 He spoke gallantly as knight should, and with such rhrases as were due to her, but her wrath was great. She grew white with rage and pointed to the door.
 "Go," she said "leave me! I will hear no more but remember my love is all changed to hate, and I will have re- venge upon you You have scorned Ma tilda's tenderness; beware of her venge- ancer' This was what she said. The shame and disgrace of unreciprocated love filled her with anger, and she was not herself.
 And he left her, grieved that he had seemed so unknightly to the lady, yet holding his conscience clear and fearing nothing from woman's anger.
 An who can read the future Who knoweth into whose hands the power may fall at last
 As the sweetest wine transforms itself into the sharpest vinegar, so the warmest and most ardent love turns, when it turns at all, into the most bitter and enven- omed hate. We have seen that love gave place in Matilda's heart to indigna- tion, and this in turn soon yielded to Q burning thirst for revenge.
 The intensity of the excitement sub- sided but the scorned maiden never forgot and never forgave the disappoint- ment and the indignity which she had endured. "Hell hath no fury like 8 woman scorned," the poet has said, and the finale of this tragic history proves the adage true.
 The young Saxon went back to Eng land. He found Althea true. He wooed and wed her. But even ere she was his wife, tidings came across the channel that Matilda was married to William, duke of the Normans. Then he said, the maiden is happy she has forgotten me, and he was glad, for no true knight would willingly deem maiden lovelorn because of him.
 The years hurried on. Earl Brithric dwelt happily with his golden-haired bride in the halls of his fathers, until rumors of war filled the land. For Duke William tof Normandy crossed to the shores of England with his shorn and shaven warriors, like unto so many monks, but fierce and valiant in the fgh withal, and good men at arms each one Then Brithric bound on his armor of goli ; and steel, and bidding Althea farewell rode with his gallant followers to joi1 the army of his king. And he fought fol Harold long and weary while, unti