Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-02-06
THE WATERBURY EVENING DEMOCRAT, MONDAY FEB G. l888

he was crushing so recklessly An! it was worth the cost, if she had to tear her heart out. for all that wealth can buy will be hers.
 She nestles her burning face on his shoul- der and tempts him to new caresses and new words of folly, that he may not remember yet what strange thing it is that he is doing: that he not think of repenting until his enthralled senses shall make him forget everything else rather than this sweet hour. Her widest dreams are realized. She will be one of the rich and the great whom the rest of the world bow down to. She will make her husband's-yes, this man to be her hus- band, why should she be ashamed with him she will make his friends all envy him his beautiful wife; and as for their faded, fash ionable women, with limp backs and blood less veins, how it will please her to study the sicns of jealousy on their istless faces. And Bertha Ellingsworth's proud, false heart will ache with shame over the low born woman whom her father has made his wife,
 ''Has the train gone for the west?' asked Q breathless voice at the Lockout station.
 ''It's thirty minutes behind it's time," grovled the ticket agent It was Philip Breton, who went back to the post to tie his horse more securely. "Poor Joe, poor old boy" the big white horse seemed more like to fall dead in his tracks than to try to break away. "A pretty hard gallop, wasn't it, Joe, your breath will come easier in minute, old horse."
 His time was precious, but he fingered in an uncomfortable terror of what he had como 50 far to see. He had thought he wanted to make sure. There might be some mistake in the note, or even now, if she had changed her mind-but it was all folly, he saw it now He had forgotten all reason in one wild long ing to see Bertha again. But what was the use of narrowing up his soul with new pie lures he would pray God in vain to wipe out of his memory? But he had come so far perhaps it would do no harm to look at her once more He had turned and was walking along the platform, toward the ladies' waiting room. He glanced up the long stretch of straight track and saw in the distance the head light of the engine, which seemed to him a Ipitiless monster, hastening on to seize his darling and bear her to some hopeless region of eternal night. He must hurry. Who knows it might be fate had kept her rescue till this moment, and meant him to save her. He pushed the waiting room door open. The seats appeared all vacant and expcctant |; a big russet apple had been dropped on one of them by some interrupted traveller, and in another place the carpet upholstery was specked with the white litter of cracker and cheese luncheon. The whole atmosphere was too commonplace for pair of runaway lovers. Philip took two or three steps into the room, but it was only as he turned to go back that he saw the settees were not quite deserted.
 It was a group for @ painters loftiest genius, but the artist must have a faith in love, which the world has learned to scoff. The figure of the nann may embody strength and dignity in unconscious perfection; it Is bent now in a beautiful protective attitude toward the woman whose head rests on his shoulder. Her lips are parted to reveal the pearly gleam of her white teeth, but she does not smile. She has golden hair like a crown setting we'll down on the broad fore head, and there is the tint of red gold in her checks like a perpetual glow of sunset. But