Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-15

| ooS nAoooo oA CaO SOAu 1lpS
 A look of unutterable ioy oyerspread the features of Arthur Fairfax, and he said half audibly: "Good-bye, Miriam, dearest; | watch over our boy, Gnd-meet me"
 "Yes, darling, with Gods help" moaned Miriam; and she held in her arms, not her devoted husband, but clay-cold, inani- mate clayl
 l They led her away also, then, away from her beloved dead. She sat down beside the sleeping, fatherless child, and throwing one arm over tho unconscious boy moaned away the night in a vigil of grief l why was tbiss" she asked of the mid night silence. Why should he be taken from her when they were so prosperous and happy, when every thing that heart l could desire for comfort and domestic bliss was theirs"
 Little Arthur threw up his baby hands and murmured "Papa," and fretted in his 1 slumber.
 | With mothers touch and caress Miriam soothed him to untroubled repose again. He was all she had now, and her hot hands | wandered over his sillken curls strayine l about on the pillow.
 All the next day she sat by her beloved | dead, stunned with the awful sense of her | bereavement Tho servants went softly 1 about the house with sorrowful faces, and | the attendants came in and went out of the ] room and she scarcely knewit. Twice they | brought little Arthur in the silent, darkened room to see his papa, but the sight of the | two together she could not bear, so when | the baby leased ito see what made papa ! sleep so cold," they took him off in the gar ! den and talked away his curiosity concern. ing the dead.
 The last sad rites had been perform7ssa,; n7sS,;; crape looped with silver stars, had gone, | Arthur's friends had gone home, all but Patty, the youngest sister, and Miriam sat | in her beautiful home widow. Patty would stay with her all the coming | dreary winter-she had promised as much, and by the springtime she should know, perhaps, what was best to do. ! When the spring laughed merrily over the isles and flowers came, they went ! abroad for 0 month. Little Arthur's health seemed to demand change, and tho | devoted mother held no sacrifice too great for her child.
 Miriam had her plans. She would travel | a little, and, in returning, would come home by Hastings, and, If she could, would venture on visit to the Hall. Perhaps her father might forgive her for the sake of her beautiful, fatherless child. | True, she had written him acquainting him of Arthur's death, and he had left the servants to make the reply, and send com fort and sympathy; but he was old and very strange, any way, and a letter, after | all, was not like seeing them. Patty ! thought 1t would work no harm to try a visit to Hcatherleigh, at least; she wished to visit Beechwood once moro, although stranger hands had desecrated her favor ite walks, no doubt.
 And Patty = blue eyed, kind hearted Patricia, who made tho best of sisters lsuperintendcd it all, and left Miriam to | seek solace and comfort care-frec, and the wcary-heartcd mother felt shc never could be thankful enough for such priceless companion as dear little sister Patty.
 Again, she sat by tho window, in the eventide, looking out over the cliffs and the sea; again tho death fiat had gone forth, and "the flower that grew betweenn was ruthlessly snapped from It's parent stem.
 Patricia sat near her, dropping tears on some broken toys she had treasured up from tho nursery. She could not weep now; she was too desolate. God had seem. ingly forgotten her and left her without a ray of hope, without single string on | loves harp unbroken. Away out in the offing she saw white-winged ship, with ! tint of sunset tingeing it's sails the faintest of rose hues. That was, doubtless, the | messenger she had sent bearing a long, ! long letter to ono whom she had never seen, | but the missive contained request, never | theless.
 Tho tear-staincd pages, when unfolded
 at Bay View cottage. tucked down by the
 blue waters of &ho Narragansett, would re-
 veal something like this:
 'I am alone. God pity mel A stranger
 in mine own land. Bereaved of bus band
 and child in one short half year, am desc.
 late. Shut from fathers doors, I am in
 tho depths of isolated sorrow. I have an
 abundance of means, and would be nc
 burden; could come to you9 I am but
 stranger to you also, but you were my
 mothers friend; will you not be mine al. sos"
 ! Then this was the message she had sent Patricia knew it, and had demurred there. to, but she must go. She had told herself
 that week after the clods rattled down on
 her baby's coffin, and if she received ap
 answer from Bay Vicf, telling her that her
 mothers friend still resided there she would sell her beautiful home and leave her
 native land forever--the land which had
 held nothing but sorrows for her from her cradlehood
 Patrlcla's lover and af1ianced husband
 would purchase The Rest, and it would
 remain i'll the Fairfax family. Had little
 Arthur lived she would have continued
 her residence here and would have kept the