The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1888-07-07
WESTMINSTER MD, SATURDAY, JULY T. 1885,

tanceship, and then she was filled with feal
and rebelled against it, only to succumt
again to the charm she really found in hi:
society.
These moments of anger and revolt be
came rarer as the days went on. After al
it was pleasant to have a companion tC
whom she could talk to as an equal Fol
he, too, she was certain, came from diff.
erent class to that surrounding him. He
was educated, clever, refined; but as she
kept her past to herself so did he his, and
they were both contented to take the pres
ent as it was.
He had fallen into way of almost daily
meeting her as she came home from hel
work, and not day passed without their
exchanging greetings and seeing each other
for at least few moments, either in the
house or streets.
Her old fear of him vanished, and day
by day some subtle sympathy, to be felt
but not expressed, drew them closer to each
other 1t was such relief to her loneli.
ness. How lonely she had been during
the last few years she did not know until
she felt what this companion was to her
now 1t was such relief to that gnawing
horrible fear of anticipation which had
haunted her solitude ever since the day Of
the murder. Every moment might bring
to her what she dreaded, with such dread
full, shrinking repulsion. She was terrified
at being alone.
The simple, pleasant, frank friendship
between her and Mark Grey was very
heaven of refuge and peace from her own
unrestful loneliness and that thing which
she dreaded. But it was coming near her,
very near, and as she walked and talked
with this man she little knew that it was
he who, in another life to the one he show
ed to her, was ruthlessly driving it on.
She had once asked him what his work
was, but he had evaded her question.
He had curious and growing dislike now
to meet her eyes after he had deceived her
in an answer. She thought he worked too
hard, for he seemed as she talked to him
one afternoon about month after she had
known him to have grown paler and thin
ner, while at moments his face had an
harassed look. She made some remark
about it. He answered her in a constrained
and rather cold manner. For the next
three days she saw nothing of him. He
did not even sleep in the house. 1t was at
the end of these three days that she dis
covered by the loneliness caused by his alb
sence how pleasant their companionship
had been. She came home that third
evening feeling the old weary listlessness
and indifference of life; but as she turned
the handle of her door all that was swept
away in the great and shuddering horror
that fell upon her. That which she had
dreaded had come. Her door was locked
on the inside. She never fastened it since
the day of the murder on the morning of
which she had accidentally left it unlocked.
Since then she had always left it unfasten-
ed, so that the room might be refuge in
case some miserable hunted fugitive from
justice might fly there. There had been
no pity in her action. Pity was turned
into hate and lay cold at her heart as the
murdered love which had once been between
her and that fugitive. 1t was a mere
sense of moral obligation. She was bound
to this fugitive by hated fetters, but she
was bound, and she was compelled to help
him.
ait is l." she breathed rather than
spoke.
The door was opened ,and she faced tall,
powerfully y-built man, whose face and figure
were so terribly worn by hunger, need,
exhaustion, that for second
she scarcely recognized him, and stood gaz-
ing at him. He pulled her into the room
with fierce, hunted look in his eyes, and
closed and locked the door again.
"Why have you come here?" she gasped
in low, hoarse voice "When-"
He laughed harsh, sinister laugh.
$50 you found out that / had been there
Well, he was traitor p
e:Oh, the wickedness of it He was an
honest, happy, hard-working man; his only
crime that he had once been one of yours. -
"Look here ]" with a savage, cruel
in his eyes. "Don't talk of
what you don't understand Get me food
and let me rest. l have been hunted down
ike a wild beast since that day. The
police, curse them, have been on my track
ever since. l could not get out ef the
! have gone without food, shell
Ier, warmth, But | have given them the
Zip, They will hardly think have doubled
pack here. How did you know that was
here that day ?"
"When | came home found that | had
eft my door unfastened, and when 1 came
N l saw the red marks of fingers on the
oox where my money was kept. The
money was gone. Only you knew the
secret of the lock; besides, l knew you had
/ personal grudge against -,
"Curse you! He was traitor Give
ne something to eat. have starved for
.wo days
She prepared meal for him, and he sat
lown and ate it wolfshly. She could not
,ven pity him for the awful hunger he
must have felt to eat like that She began
o be afraid of the hate in her heart. She
elt sick with it. To see him sitting there
n her room, which she had kept unpolluted
rom his presence for three years, filled her
With desperate, wild loathing and rage.
She could not look at him, speak to him.
By and by, when the food, and warmth,
md rest had strengthened him a little, and
70 could think of other things beside his
,wn desperate hunted self, he looked at her,
md something maliciously amused, and yet
,ruel and angry, leaped into his eyes.
"You aren't pleased to see me" he said, |
With a laugh. at isn't dutiful,' and he
lung out his arm as she passed him and
:aught her TO him.
"How dare your' She had wrenched |
herself free and caught up knife from the
able at the same moment. "If you touch !
ne-speak to me-I will stab you TO the |
leart.
He was cowed by the splendor of her
lassion, her anger, and he fell back sullen,
nraged; but, remembering that he was for
he moment in her power, he cursed her
lnder his breath, aud then flung himself
Iown on the bed to sleep.
She could scarcely breathe in the same
tmosphere as he did, and yet she did not
Iare leave the room. Suppose Mark Grey
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