Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-05-04

uGranit, my poor boy, do not talk so wildly. Forget this girl; think now of what is the best thing for you to do."
 T have thought of at atthat-that is all ar
 list lis tone is impatient. @ .t..Where. are you going, darlings'' she asks, faintly.. ,s,.o1
 Hia manner is dull and listless.
 "Rouse yourself,' entreats she. ..you must % for awhile. You say you have arranged all. Tell me, then, where you \. A long journey"
 tLong Journeys nowadays can be com passed in . very little while.''
 4That is true Mine will be the short est passage on record, he draws his breath sharply. "What happened to her, when left?'
 "She fainted. MT. Duran''-
 ''Keep his name out of it, can't you?'' interrupts he, violently. "Go onl She tainted. Well, what then?'
 "They had considerable difficulty in re- covering her, have been told. was not "She was naturally good deal upset by the whole affair. I suppose you fright ened her"
 "You say hurt her.
 "You sent her with some force against the wall. You did not mean it." hastily -"but when one is agitated as you were, one hardly knows what one is doing. "You" anxious1y-ssmust not take that so much to heart; you did her no real harm. You must not be uneasy"
 ''Take it to heart? wish I had killed herl" The words come with a hiss through his cnnched teeth; his face is white and distorted with passion. sThat she should live, and live with him, is the galling thought; that is more than can bear. How her little white fingers fast ened on his arm! Liar that she isl how she deceived and ruined me! Body and soul she has destroyed"
 "Oh, not your soul, darling! There is time-repentance. ''
 There is very little time now and am unrepentant."
 He throws up his head and points to the window. The lamps in the room are waning, and through the closely cur tained window the first streaks of coming morn are stealing with persistency that will not be denied. Day is breaking, and with it his mothers heart. The cruel light will tear him from her, will carry him-whitherf
 "You have not told me where you are SoAuS, 0A0 odyS, PicSSAAS ucI uttuu against her heart to still it's throbbing.
 II can tell no one that.'' e
 "What! not your mother? Granit, do not fear, will betray you; anything you say to me now will be sacred. Tell me where it is you mean to go."
 "I cannot"
 "But why-why?''
 "For the simple reason that I don't know myself.'' There is curious gleam in his eyes that disturbs her and makes her forget the fippancy of his tone. "It is to strange land will wend my way before the day is very much older. A stranger in strange land! My reception will be cold one, or perchance hot one."
 He laughs wildly. His merriment is, however, shortlived, breaking off almost as it began, and ending in dismal silence.
 "You are thinking of Africa" says his mother, trembling, she scarcely knows why, If you still refuse to let me know exactly where you are going, at least promise you will write to me-. Granit, my dear, dear son, promise re that"
 1T will promise you anything you like, though doubt if you would care to keep up the correspondence" There is some thing terrible in his manner, which has S1oWu 1I1VO1OuS III A SustSU1y way, anO HIS face is ivid. s'She will live and pros per-" he says inconsequently as it seems to Lady Valworth; "but she will have to remember. will compel her to do thatl And remember you," laying his hand roughly upon his mothers shoulder, "re- member well that my last words were that she was responsible for all!''
 1T will not believe these are your last words. You will return to me, when all this has blown over you will return, if even for month or so. Promise me that, too, Granit.'
 "From where am going no man re- turns"
 ssThat is not true. There is no place on earth from which you cannot come back to me, if you only win.''
 ''No place on earthr' He repeats her words slowly. ''My place on earth will know me no more J He seems to wander away from the actual meaning of her words to the mere sound of them. ''I have no longer any place on earth, :" he says dreamily. .--..s
 ssYou have place in my heart always" !" cries she, with a sudden burst of weeping. She throws her arms round him, and clings to him in an embrace that is full of despair. "Alas nay one child! my pretty baby! that it should come to this, 1" she moans, bitterly,
 "You will not forget my message to her?''
 Though he is supporting her half faint ing form, he hardly needs her; her words bear no meaning to him. His mind is ever with the girl who had unconsciously betrayed him, whom he has loved-whom he still loves, with terrible intensity.
 "I shall forget nothing. When do you starts''
 "When you leave me-"
 t'There will be no train, darling, until o'clock"
 1T shall require no train.'
 "But how, then, will you gof' Again he bursts into that loud dis cordant laughter that chills the blood in her veins.
 'Do not be uneasy about me. have prepared for myself g mode of transit swifter than any train. Pouf! Steam will be slow to it." tYou do not trust me-" she says sor- rowfully, still unsuspecting, still dead to the warning that his words, his face, his manner, should have given her.
 trust you entirely. trust you with my last message-to herl Now go."
 1T shall see you againr entreats she, lingering. .