Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-02-20
MISS BRETHDRTON|
By HRS. HUMPHREY WARD,

to the Nuneham woods, and all she had ever seen or imagined of his feelings toward her. She had never never suspected him of loving her. She had sent him her friendly messages from Venice ill the simplest good faith; she had joined in his sisters praises of him With out a moments self consciousness. His ap- proval of her play in ''Elvira" had given her the same frank pleasure that masters good word gives to pupil-and all the time he had loved her-loved herl How strange! how incrediblel
 Kendall followed, bent over her, listened, but no word came. She was, indeed, too be- wildered and overwhelmed to speak. Tho old bitter fear and certainty began to assert itself against the overmastering impulse which had led him on.
 II have startled you-shocked you," he cried. II ought not to have spoken-and at such time. It was your pity overcame me your sweet wo!nanly kindness. 1 have loved you, think, ever since that first even- ing after the White Lady, At least, when look back upon my feeling. 1 sec that it was love from the beginning. After that day at Nuneham I knew it was love; but I would not acknowledge it; I fought against it. It seemed to me that you would never forget that had been harsh, that had behaved rather like an enemy than a friend. But you did forget-you showed me how noble a wo- | man could be- and every day after we parted | in July loved you more. 1 thought of you | all the summer when 1 was buried in the | country-my days and nights were full of 1 you. Then when your great success came | 1t was base of me-but all the time while was sending my congratulations to you through my sister at Venice, 1 really feeling that there was no more hope for me, l and that some cruel force was carrying you away from me. Then came 'Elvira'-and seemed to give you up forever"
 1 Her hands dropped from her face, and her | great hazel eyes were fixed upon him with | that intent look he remembered long ago when she had asked him for the 'truth'' about herself and her position. But there was no pain in it now; nothing but wonder and a sweet moved questioning.
 "Why?" The word was just breathed through her parted lips.
 | Kendall heard it with Start-the little sound loosed his speech and made him elo- l quent.
 "Why! Because l thought you must in- 1 evitably be absorbed, swallowed up by the | great new future before you; because my
 own life looked so gray and dull beside yours.
 felt it impossible you should stoop from 1 your height to love me, to yield your bright
 self to me, to give me heart for heart So went away that l might not trouble you. Ana then"-hlS VOlce sunk lower Stlll-'came
 the summons to Paris, and Marie on her
 deathbed tried to make me hope And just
 now your pity drew the heart out of my lips. 1 Let me hear you forgive me."
 Every word had reached it's mark. She
 had realized at last something of the depth 1 the tenacity, the rich, illimitable promise of
 the passion which she had reused. The ten I derness of Marie seemed to encompass them
 and Q sacred, pathetic sense of her death and
 loss drew them together. Her respect, he1
 reverence, her interest had been yielded long
 ago; did this troubled ycarning within mean
 something more, something infinitely greater
 She raised herself suddenly, and, as he l knelt beside her ho,feIt her warm breath or