Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1884-10-22

unfinished lips lie loosely against each
other, as If heavens journeyman had
made them and not made them well.
After while he began to grow tired
of the ceaseless flow Of words without
an idea.
81 wish I dared to make a bargain
with her mother for her brain in case
should outlive her." he wrote in his
journal. "The examination of it would
solve several problems that are tor
menting me at present. L never met
any one in full possession of all her
faculties and a common education that
came SO near to being an idiot. She
seems to have absolutely no soul"
He started, stared ct what he had
written, and threw down the pen in dis
gust.
"What impelled me to use word
there that have not used for years?
low long is 1t since poor Dora Varian
died? Three years upon my word.
How time lies IGseems like last week,
and yet know it is months since I
have thought of her. But what is that
does Miss Barrows play the guitar?'
He leaned out of the window, for he
thought he heard low vibration like a
musical string rapidly untuned. No, it
seemed in the room beside him. He
shook himself impatiently, murmured
something about taking cold, and then
went down stairs where Miss Barrows
was lounging on chair in the sunset
! glow. She gave him sleepy little
smile as he took the chair beside her;
the heat had silenced her for few mo-
ments. Fielding took the fan from her
hand and slowly piled it back and forth
until her closed eyes and regular breath
ing suggested that she might be entire
ly obhvious of his presence.
He surveyed her with q feeling of
something like aversion, in spite of her
beauty. There was no intelligence in
the heavenly clearness of her eyes, no
trace of thought on the brow that
seemed almost chiseled; the slip-shod
English that came from her full throat
Ill voice that at times was unearthly
sweet, dismayed his fastidious ear. He
slightly pushed back bis chair and
thought of one summer night when he
had forgotten how the time passed
when Dora Varian and he had paced
up and down the garden path, softly
talking. Miss Barrows stirred and I'M
closed her eyes when he moved.
"Have you missed me?" she said
quietly, and again the guitar vibrated
on the air.
What was the matter with that girl Z?
Those were her eyes surely that ne sat
gazing into aghast, and yet, where had
they caught that look of Dora Varian?
well" she said, with Dora's own
smile, 81 have waited and watched, and
the time has come at last when L can
see you with living eyes and talk with a
living voice. Yes, you are right. I am
Dora Varian."
4 chill shook Fielding from head to
foot. What horrible hallucination was
this? Had his close application to work
crazed him at last, and was this the
form his madness was to take? Half
timidly he touched her hand; il was
warm and soft as ever.
''You need not answer me just now"
she said, gently Withdrawing from his
touch. "Let me explain to you first
how this came to pass. When J. died 7
told you should see you again, and
three long years / have been beside
you day and night, trying to give you
some sign of my presence. Whenever
you thought of me 1 knew it, and tried
to tell you so, but all efforts only re-
suited IN some strange sound. [ felt
that you heard it, for you always
looked around to account for it in some
natural way. But oh, Mark, it is six
months since [ entered your mind"
where is she-where is Miss Bar
rows?" inquired Fielding, adapting
himself as one does in some grotesque
dream.
Sleeping, and so I can be with you.
Shall / come again ?"
amy" called the mother from the
house. The girl in the chair, whoever
she might be, closed her lids for a mo-
ment, and when they opened Miss Bar
rows made some fippant remark about
her nap, with a disregard of grammar
and vowel sounds that kept Fielding in
irritated silence. She gave him CO.
quettish tap with the fan she snatched
from him, and ran into the house.
Fielding slowly followed her, and per-
suaded himself that he had been asleep,
too.
But he learned her ways better, and
knew that she had habit of sleeping
away most of her afternoons on the
little hair-clo sofa in the cool parlor.
he was obliged to confess to himself
with sort of horror that she led two
lives, for which he could make no ac-
count. AS surely as he found himself
beside her when she lay sleeping, SO
surely would she wake and look at him
with Dora Variants eyes, and talk to
him with Dora Variants tones blending
through the different voice of Amy
Barrows. Sometimes they took long
walks into the woods beyond the vii
lage, and Fielding began TO find the old
fascination of Dora's conversation and
manner intensified into some strange,
new feeling by the charm Of faultless
beauty. He lost the uncanny sensations
she gave him at first, and in his en-
forced 1dleness was rapidly learning to
look forward to the hours when the ex-
quisite casket should be occupied bv
the fitting gem. When she left it the
other occupant returned to it, supreme
L c