Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-01-30
WATERBuRY EVENING DEMOCRAT MONDAY. JAN 3O l888

the gift of Gods mercy to the poorest of his creatures For her part she despised the poor shc didn't pity them; great strong men who submitted to be trodden on and ground under the feet of the rich; whose blood ana muscles and quivering flesh were weighed ln tho balance against few dollars of the spec ulators. It was good enough for them as long as they submitted to it. She didn't blame tho rich; they were the only wise peo- pic; she only envied them. They did well to take all they could get and walk over as many thousands as would fall down before them. Oh. if she could only win her way to their ranks. But tho rich men do not come into the weave room for their enslavers.
 Suddenly she heard step behind her; step she knew from all others in the world, and the whole air seemed to tremble with a new, strange, heavenly impulse.
 sGood evening, Jane"
 She turned with new, sweet shyness. It was Curran, the agitator, who was beside her. soft flush was on her cheeks, a warm light in her eyes that had grown larger for him in delicious surprise.
 "Who is that young fellow who just left youH'
 "Oh, ono of my lovers," she answered coquettishly, dropping her eyes before his
 "He your lover" repeated Curran in his imperious fashion. "You're not for such as he, Jennie"
 Her heart fluttered in sweet fear at the meaning she thought in his words She was trying to walk very slowly, but how fast they seemed to pass the houses.
 'S5o told him." she said.
 s'You did well, then,' and he looked down ad,niringly Oil the girl. "You are fine wo- man. l don't suppose you know it."
 Jane Graves tried to look as if it was news to her, and Clrran went on. "Few women orc pretticr Therc are fine prizes for such as you in th:3 world if you will only wait" He continued t.oughtfully, "Men have to work for distinctions; a pretty face brings it to woclcn."
 .'What sort of prizes?'' And she trusted hcIs>lf to loo,z up at him. How grand he v-,:;; with his firm, strong face. If he only kae, a touch of weakness in him that might Dc.,l down to her.
 Position, money, power"
 ''-.o woman cares for those" And she be- l:a-cI it as shc spoke looking away over the r-..r.
 'What then?' lc asked, snlil E. "Those thi.:. .-s arc what all men are working for. | Sl. ;ose."
 'nyo:ncn care for but one thing" Sometimes the climax of character is rc1~,cd only in old age, when storms havo N -A L1 So.2.etiI21e5 it comes i., childhood, with three scoro years of decline to come after it. It wcs at this moment that this girls life reached it's moral height. If she could but havc kept it.
 ''That is love,' she added softly. "It is their lives; they hope only for that; they ! dream only of it.'
 Curran laughed, but gently, as he took her | hands at parting, pressing them perhaps un- | consciously, yet no man can be wholly care 1 less to sue. !,ca,:ty- as hers. | ''It l.; O1iY because women are moro foolish l tho, men, not because they arc moro dc vt..~!, thc: they are able to make such ab- | su" mistakes"
 l s:.c smiled on him as radiantly as q red pct.lcd rose unfolding it's glowing heart to l tho morl,n; suIl-the sun that gives every 1 thing and wants nothing, and stood half 1 turned watching his retiring form. The road at this point passed near deserted ruin, l o!lce a brick sawmill, which had shorn the hills and valleys around of their pride, now a l favorito trysting place for lovers of moon icht nirhts like this would be. Curran was l just entering under an arch, where onco had sv71.lg Q heavy oallen door which long age had served some shivering family for q l weeks firewood.
 He went i:. and did not once turn. How cruel men arc. Perhaps, she told herself, he l is to meet there some messenger of the Great | leacilc he had told her about, and they vii plan together some bold stroke. It was beautiful to have such power, even if it nadt hirn forget this ono poor girl, whose heart lon ;cd 50 eagerly for another smile.
 Tho whole world seemed glorified to tho l girl as she walked on. She had loitered st | long that tho sun was now almost setting with his flowing robe of caI7nine about him and the whole landscape seemed in a rapture of silent worship. Jane Graves was like on' l in q dream-her home, which she could tel from it's cheap dreary counterparts. migh
 have been a palace; the path along i'll iron
 of it, beaten by SO many faltering footsteps
 seemed only pleasantly familiar to her
 What had she seen to envy in anybody's lift
 that had not her dear hope!
 But down tho hill comes a great whit
 horse, tossing his mane and curveting in tn
 pride of his strength and beauty.
 Its rider who held tho rein so graceful.
 must be young Philip, the mill owners son
 he had just finished college, they said. s
 that was the young man Bertha Ellingswortl
 was engaged to; not ill looking, and he rod
 we'll. The girl smiled to herself. "Bu
 Bertha Ellingsworth had not seen Curran."
 "Did he lift his hat to mes" She looke
 inouiringly about her. "There is no on
 else, and his black eyes seemed to know me
 too; how odd!" thought the girl, as sh
 walked OH more hastily, and the horse an
 it's rider disappeared in a cloud of dust.
 "A1.d it seems as if I had seen him some l uboro tn0n