Connecticut western news., 1884-03-19
VOL. XIII.

you were about to propose to her, under the impression that she hadn't a penny ill the world?"
 "Yes, told you so, and it was the truth-but it would be rather difficult to convince the world in general of it."
 "Oh, bother the world in general What do you care for its verdict one way or the other?"
 But Colton shook his head.
 "I have striven all my life long to be an honorable gentleman, said he calm ly-"nor shall allow the shadow of a shade to dim my character now. I love Elsie Miller as truly and tenderly as a man can love, but will not submit to be called an heiress-hunter p
 "But, my dear boy, please reflect that the days of Don Quixote are over. No body will appreciate the sacrifice you are making; and Elsie herself will prob ably marry some calculating merchant or other, who won't make half so good a husband to her as you would have done."
 Gervaise Colton remained obstinately unconvinced, however, and the squire's eloquence was utterly thrown away.
 And little Elsie? How she marvelled at Gervaise's altered manner-at his cold constraint and distant politeness; what scalding tears she cried into her mid- night pillow, and how vainly she tried to read the unreadable riddle.
 "I'm sure he used to like me-" said Elsie, as she bathed her eyes with rose- water in the mornings. "And there's the rose-buds he gave me just before Aunt Bridget died, and the letters he used to write, and-and-"
 So ended most of Miss Elsie's solilo- quies-in tears.
 "But I don't care" persisted our heroine.
 The months passed away, and still Gervaise adhered to his new role of dis tant, courteous friend, and one night Elsie resolved to ask him what she had done to forfeit the whole place in his heart.
 So she marched up to him, in the merry confusion of good Squire Dalton's birthday party-a resolute little soldier, in armor of white muslin and shield of roses.
 Gervaise was leaning sadly against the door, listening abstractedly to the music, when Elsie laid her bouquet of roses lightly on his arm. "Gervaise p
 He started.
 "Miss Miller p
 ''Miss Miller," she repeated, bitterly. ''Oh Gervaise-you used to call me Elsie once. Why are you so cold-so changed? |? What have I said or done to lose your friendship?"
 "Nothing," he answered, strangely embarrassed.
 "Gervaise p
 "Will you excuse me, he said, hur- riedly. 'I see friend to whom I must speak"
 Elsie stood with her cheeks flaming like the roses in her hand, and her blue eyes humid with tears. Had she hu- initiated herself in vain |?
 And this was the night she went home and declared, for at least the hun dred and ninety-ninth time, that "she didn't care"
 "I cannot endure this" thought Ger vaise Colton. 'I shall forget dignity, manhood, resolution and everything else if she looks me in the eyes like that once again. Oh, if Miss Bridget Mer- riam's fifty thousand dollars could be thrown into the sea p
 All that night Gervaise spent in pack ing his valise, burning old letters, and setting his affairs in order for journey.
 "I may as we'll go out Vest" he thought. "It's wide place and lone- ly place, and shall be safe from the be- setting demon of temptation only there. may surely keep this little bunch of dried violets that she gave me the day of the picnic; she will never know"
 Alas, there was little of consolation in that last reflection.
 fought I to write and bid her good by?" he pondered, with an indescribable l yearning, for the one last link to bridge over the dividing currents of their lives. "No, must leave her free, unfettered even by o fancy"
 Gervaise Colton sat underneath the swinging lamp of the express train as it thundered through the midnight soli- tudes, with folded arms, and sleepless, staring eyes. He was leaving hope, happiness, sunshine, behind him forever.
 Oh, why had Providence made the path of duty so narrow, and so beset by prickly thorns? Why must he fight such a perpetual battle with himself Would it not be better to die at once2
 As the vague, repining aspiration after the peace and oblivion of death came across his mind, there was a crash-a jar-a noise like the rending of beams and splintering of arches-and Gervaise Colton was thrown violently against the side of the car, with a concussion that for few moments deprived him of sense or consciousness. Then he struggled up, sick and faint, into sitting posi- ton, and became aware that he was sur. rounded by dead and dying. The train had run off the track, and the three foremost cars were precipi' tated into sort of gorge or declivity some seven or eight feet deep, just beyond. Gervaise Colton had wished 3 for death-here it was, face to face with t him. No wonder that he shrank ap palled from the ghastly sight. 8 Steadyipg himself by the broken seat