Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-02-03
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 BrefoD AAlllS
BY CHARLES I. BELLAMY.
Copyrighted by the Author, and published
 by arrangement with him.

by arrangement with him. The warm flood of recurring feeling swept over her soul. She could not bear one more cruel word against him now. Before her 1 father could speak she had hurried into the hall and shut fast the door so that she should not hear the bitter sentence that was just parting his lips
 What strange impulse moved her that she should go to the outer door and look eagerly l down the street? But her insulted guest had not fingered. In mnment more she was at the gate, and saw his tall form only at a little distance No doubt he was thinking sadly, or perhaps angrily, of her, as he walked, and he could not guess that she had repented, and was eager this moment to beg his forgiveness, with all the sweet words she knew Bertha glanced back at the house in hesitation. She could see the slim outlines of her fathers figure shadowed on the curtains. She could not hear what he was saying 1t Was this:
 Ut is one of Bertha's freaks. All women are subject to them.'
 But | don't understand,' insisted Mr. Breton, wiping the pelspiration from his heated face. ''E don't understand how she can bring herself, a girl of her notions, to entertain fellow like this. How long do you suppose this has been going on? Eve since the dog adventure, very likely If 1 l were Phlip'-
 But you recoiIect am only three days | returned from my trip, and am entirely u4- able to tell you how many times she has met thls very striking individual. Don't hurry yourself into mental decline by trying to eN- plain on logical principles a woman's per- folmances,n smiled Glr. Ellingsworth "And 1 wouldn't take the trouble to suggest mis- givings to Phil. l would rather trust the girls nature, and I think l know it, than de- pend on jealous lover's reproaches. Why, my dear friend, l would stake my life on the girls attachment to the traditions of her position. Our wives and daughters are thrice more intOlerable, unreasonable aristo- crats than we If she had been guilty of a touch of foolish sentiment reaction is cer- tain, and she will only despjse the man tho more because of her season of blindness
 But supposing the reaction came too late," suggested Mr. Breton anxiously. ''Then it better not come at all,n he con- tinued. 'The very character you give her would make three people perfectly miserable the man she refuses, the man she lnarries, and herself.7'
 But the girl who had stood at the gate in her slippers, and With no covering for her head but her golden hair fastened low on her neck, had hesitated but a moment. She could not let Curran leave her thus; perhaps she should never see him again, if he went away without one word from her to soften the blows she had let them give him. And then he seemed to be walking slowly, she could overtake him in a moment. The u1l- even walk hurt her feet, her slippers were thin, and as she lifted her skirt to walk faster rude bliar tore her soft flesh, and then hung greedily to her to i'm pede her steps. She stopped and called his name. She had hardly rlurmured it, but it seemed so loud spoken and so tender toned she blushed at herself, and dared not speak it again. She might run few steps, and then he would hear her voice more plainly. But her dress chung closely and her excited breath came so fast that she gained on him very slowly. There was no use, she must lose him forever out of her life; he must al- ways think her cruel and ungenerons. She leaned against the fence and sent one more hopeless cry after him. It was more sob than cry, a piteOus sob, trembling with gentle, heart broken reproach. Why, she was sure he must have heard that; she had never meant to speak so loud. What could she say to him when he came back to her: She must try to be very cold and dignified. But wasn't he going to turn? Why, her cry 1 was piercing enough to go a mile on the still l evening air. No, he was further away, he | had not heard her.
 
 l ened to sec what distance she was away from home. And as she stood looking, now at lis tall form drawing uncoas-s ously away | from her, and then at the distant lights of | her home, the first hint of the desolation | that broods over millions of hopeless hearts, l came upon her soul Her slippers were torn, and wet with dew, and each step she took | bruised the tender feet that had never known | hurt or weariness Her heavy masses of hair l ,l,~ hung at full length to her waist She fan cied herself some lost, friendless Magdalen, for whom the world, that fawns on the for | tunate and proud had only taunts aad cruel l blows And were there women who had to | face the world alones fight their own battles | wiuh timid hearts! earn their own right to breathe, with sinking hearts?
 | ''W hat was that, a step, a mans step coming | toward her:" To her excited imagination at that moment her beautiful home and the elegant life she loved so we'll seemed things of the past
 She gathered her hair into a loose coil and 1 let her dress trail on the wall , cover her ! feet. The man woce woi :; clothes | She had hoped he might |. 4,.5leman She tried to keep on tho ui,1- edge of the sidewalk; she would have taken the road If sto had dared. S,le looked away from the man. but she coull sec with beating heart he was coming directly toward her. But per haps he did not see her, and ll9 might turn aside yet, Goi grant he be an honest man,
 whose wife's loving faco was in his thoughts at this moment. There were such men. But
 instead of naoving aside tho man stopped s,Iort i!st before her, and she raised her big, scared eyes to his face.
 ''Why, Bertha I thought it was you'
 Sure enough it was Philip Breton. He had
 como from the mill, where there had been sono extra work, and wore his working
 clothes.
 ''Lct mo walk home with you," he said
 very gently, as if he had no right to assert
 any privilege with her.
 CT came too far, and got frightened" !" she
 said dreanlily, as she rested her hand on nj:
 arm.
 Her hand was cold, but it sent his young
 blood tingling through his voins
 ''I aua so sorry" How he longed to catcl
 her white hand to his lips, and warm it witt
 kisses, But lately she had treated him witl
 D new coltlness and her coidnoss he dare no meet. He dreaded to face it, it pained him SC
 past endurance, and he had called on her bu
 seldom since tho night of tho fire, But now
 his heart was full of eloquent love; so full h'