Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-04-24

| figure that lOOmS ldiSo and terrible in | the light of the dim lamp it carries ap pears upon the threshold: Mi1licent. benumbed, fascinated star. l inp with wide eyes, sees man dressed in the common coarse fustian suit of an ar. tisan The face is hidden; over if a mack of black satin is drawn carefully. This gives n last touch of terror to presence already bic with fearful mystery in tbe eyes of the poor girl gazing at it. in a snellbound anguish, from over the frilled and dainty linen sheeting. It is an impossible thing, in spite of all wise writers to the contrary, to account for human feeling-to arrange for what it will cause the owner of it to do or say on certain occasions and under certain circumstances.
 than alive, when her fear was hidden from her, now that it appears before her in flesh and blood and an abominably bad suit of clothes, feels her soul rise within her. her courage grow apace, and lifting her eyes-though still in a very agony of doubt and horror-she stares at the intruder with some small semblance of defiance
 The intruder, however, being no doubt 8 man of base mind, to whom lofty senti- ments are unknown, returns her would-be glance GuTOuSu HIS mask W1CQ an air calm as summer eve.
 s'Get upI' he says-neither more nor less, but just this concisely.
 It is demand that Miss Grey in her newborn fit of courage sees fit to scorn.
 "Ishall not!" she says from her strong hold behind the bedclothes
 However ignominiously she behaves afterward, it must now be said of her that she is filled with high courage.
 'Won't you?' says the man in fust- ian. His tone is remarkably high and squeaky; not-as Miss Grey remarks, even at this awful moment-like the voice of any human thing she has ever heard. ttI give you just three minutes to get and never mind your hair. That is a woman's first thought, isn't it? But it must go for once.'
 He laughs in so suppressed a fashion that she hardly knows what the laughter is like; but that it is wild and reckless, and decidedly mirthful, is apparent to her. It did not declare itself to her then, but afterward it occurred to her that his whole air was hardly in accord with the fustian.
 "I shall not stir," she says valorously.
 ''Then I regret to say that must assist you,' returns he, advancing toward her slowly.
 This settles it, of course. Her high born courage fades, evaporates. Her spirit dies within her. With both hands she clings to the bedclothes.
 s'No, nop' she gasps. "I will get up only-only''-
 "Go? That, of course," says the man as argeeable as he can in his squeaky tones. "I shall go to the next room, for precisely five minutes by my-no, by the way-your watch. Don't, let me ad wise you, let it be longer"
 He strides toward the door by which he has entered, and then suddenly stops short. So does her heart. Once again she had dwelled upon the hope of what a ringing of the bell might bring forth; but, as if the mysterious being had read her inmost soul, he now turns to her.
 "By the bye," he says, ''to ring your bell may suggest itself to you. You might ring thousand bells in this house, I verify believe, without result; but still I decline to take the chance. After all, I think shall stay here, in this remote corner, while you put on your dressing gown"
 "Oh, no!''
 The words break from Millicent des- perately.
 ''No? You would prefer not? Butt
 ''I swear to you I will not ring the bell" declares she wildly. "I don't know why you wish me to rise; but yet I give you my word will not touch the bell if you will only go into that next room and give me the five minutes you have prOmised.o
 "A woman's oath is not worth half penny, to say nothing of her word," says the stranger pleasantly. "But still, I will grant your request with just this last r11a to summon aid in any way, shalr'- drawing a revolver from his pocket and handling it tenderly-"blow your brains out!''
 The words fall from him in whisper -delicately-so mildly, indeed, that no suspicion of violence should rest with them. Yet Millicent, as the door closes behind him, shudders vehemently, and her teeth chatter as though she has been stricken with 8 sudden chill.
 With trembling haste she springs from her bed, hurries on her clothes, and hav- ing covered herself finally with a soft warm dressing gown, stands shivering with expectation upon the carpet. She must have got through her task with far greater speed than she had imagined-in three minutes, instead of the allotted five, as q good while e1apses from the time she had finished her hurried dress ing to the dreaded moment when again her foe appears before her.
 "You are a paragon" he says. "Per- init me to congratulate you. I said five minutes-I gave you seven; it appears three would have been sufficient. But now to business. Where are those sap- phire and diamond ornaments that have made you the envy of all beholders this season, and added a faint luster to the brilliancy of your charms?"
 Yes-certainly his manners are not in keeping with his clothesl
 My sapphiresr' gasps she feebly.
 "And diamondsl Do not detract from their value. Comer'-sharply-' us have no nonsense. know you keep them in this room or the one beyond; but where? I assure you-I beg you to believe that would not for worlds have reused you from your happy dreams had not my failure to discover the jewels com pelled me to apply to you for assistance"
 My uncle always keeps them," begins the girl, telling her lie without regret in the fond but vain hope that it may save her sapphires. All at once the suave manner of the man disappears, and an angry oath escapes him.
 "Look here, girl," he says roughly, tho11 oh bis voica ia fine and Souaaku ao