Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-02-06

and he bethought himself to dash the cool contents into her face, and felt quite doc tors surprise to see any good result follow his ministrations The banished blood stole slow Iy back into her olive cheeks. He bent over her and lifted her shapely little hands, as dainty as a princess, and tried to arrange them ill so:ac graceful position. How pretty she was: if her lips were a little full that was g very rarlo:.able fault
 A sudden mad thought warmed his body; why Lot wait till she opened her eyes, this charming little girl, and then swear to her that he loved her: What was love then that such pretty face and form as this should not have it! S:lc was no cold woman; her kisses and cndearncnts-bu his eyes had grown cold and hard while ho looked at her. If she were Cleopatra she could be nothing to him. her kisses would only stifle him with her passiol her clinging soft arms about his neck woull only strangle him. He knew to his sorrow what it was to love, and no pretty sham, no matter how it's voluptuous artiices might make his hot blood surge through his veins, could still for one moment the imlnor tai longing it only mocl1ed, She moved a little as she lay; and he started and went out.
 The girls eyes opened slowly on the rich blue lambreuuins and the rare frescoing of the room She vaguely wondered for one de- licious moment if she aWo1e some rich gen tlemaI's wife and her old linc of poverty was past forever. Why, she was in MT. Filings Worths bed chamber? How came she here? And her hair was wet, and the ruffies on her neck were damp-it was cologne. Then she remembered everything, and rose from the august couch she had unworthily pressed She laid back the great pillows and tried to smooth out the outlines of her form on the spotless counterpane and then made her way down stairs. The house was so still it fright ened her: it was as if everybody in the world had died while she lay i.l her faint, The hall below was empty, too, and tho outer door shut. She opened the parl0r door; she felt as if she must find somebody to case the tension of her nerves.
 MT. Ellingsworth sat with his head bowed on his hands; he knew it all, his home was desolated, his pride outraged. At the noise he uncovered his face for a moment and looked up and the cruel light falling on his distressed face revealed the marks of age his tranquil course of life and selfish and com placent philosophy had so long softened and covered. He saw the graceful figure of bis | maid in a pretty attitude of hesitation on his | pleasure. He was alone in the world but for l her; deserted in his own home only for Ter. "Come here, Jennie," he said in broken 1 voice.
 l She came into the room, and few steps | toward him. Then she stopped. Her face was almost as pale as when she tainted, but her black eyes shone with unusual feverist4 1 brilliancy.
 ''Give ne your hand, dear"
 1 Tho girl started and half turned as if to | esca;,c. I;,cc, strange thoughts darted throu !, Ter ..r::;n. A warm, red flush r?r",2A ..' :'.>,, IT rcci>, and spread itself in tngling waves of shame to the very roots of her black hair She came up to him, and reached out her little hand. He pressed it gently, then he laid it against his cheek. Her heart bounded in sudden revolt, but she con- trolled herself with an effort of sheer will, and did not move, but her startled eyes sought the floor. And so this was her proud master. But what harm if he wanted to be foolish and sentimental? it was no matter tC anybody now, no one cared for her unkissed lips.
 "Jennie," he said at last, sscome nearer tc | me-"
 And she kneeled by his chair, in sudden impulse she dared not define, not yet. She put her other hand in his, and lifted hel dark, wet eyes to his face Then he bent down to the upturned face, that neve,
 linched, and in another instant he held ir his arms her form that seemed to shrink only that he must clasp her the closer.
 "Will you be my wife, Jenniea never loved a woman as I do you. Will you bt my wife, Jennie!'
 "Yes," whispered the red lips that never once turned away from his thick raining kisses.
 In Bertha Ellingsworth's own parlor. Ii was with her mothers face looking dow1 from the painted canvas, in the room where the daughter of the house had so coldly en tertained the heir of the Breton mills, An yes, and where she had taught Curran, the prophet of the poor, to love her, and she tn. very essence of the spirit he taught them tt hate But how her proud face would wine, now! If she were only here! Her father the haughtiest of men, to everybody in tn, great world beneath him cold as an iceberg they said, arrogant as any duke of courtly circle, could it be he praying, with ho
 breath, the love and the hand of his servan maid! Could it be he holding her so fondly in his arms, where he might have gathered coy danes of the state1iest rank, lavishins honeyed words and mad endearments on hi poor servant girl, whose only nice dress it wa