Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-22


 doors and leave the twilight; mysterious and indistinct as it is. how love it! It puts me in mind of Joaquin Miller's rest, DOT trayed in his excellent poem, "Thc Rest of the Crave"
 There Gladys has lighted up the chande- Her in the rosebud of parlor, and the soft light from the colored globes falls over piece of statuary fair as Undine, and slants like halo through the glass doors this side And can see from where sit, here in the delicious, shadowy night, cousin fitting about the room, and note the sweep of her crimson gown. She is trying to be glad and happy tonight, for am to start for homo tomorrow, and she does not desire to leave any unpleasant impression on memory. l know she is heart-sick, however, and un- derstand her assembling.
 My luggage is ready for an early start; Miriam's picture is nicely packed for safe transport, and Allan Pcrcival's letter to her is safe in the bottom of my trunk The Stanleys, with whom 1 came over, are back to Ecclesbourne and will be ready to- morrow, so there is nothing left for me to do than to join them.
 l am loath to part with Gladys also, and do my share of dissembling and for the same reason. l am so anxious to present Miriam with her much-desired portrait, however, and to place Tn her hand the cous- inly-lover-like, I venture-epistle, that my separation from my cousins cheery com pany will not seem so bitter.
 But, after all, mind me with pang that it is those left behind that ever feel most sorrowful at parting.
 shall go in now and Gladys and will sing "Auld Lang Syne" together once, more, as we had planned, before 1 must go. l fancy we shall see the words through mists before we get half way through the song, and perhaps break down and finish the rest in tears.
 Rough sea-" said the captain, and I seek my cabin. Miss Stanley, pale as death, seeks hers also; by this time she Is prone on her cot wishing for every thing but death and an unruly digestive apparatus. l am lucky; I am not disturbed by the rolling of the ship, but chose rather to tumble about alone, if must, than to fall sprawling on deck or trip up fellow passenger in trying to keep my equilibrium.
 While sit here on the side of my trunk am thinking of two faces left behind me on England's sunny shores. One is the face of Cousin Gladys. of course, as she bade me goodbye, with hot tears trickling g down her white cheek. It is Q memory that brings lump into my throat and sinking 1 down of the heart.
 The other face is that of Allan Percival.
 
 walked with me down to the pier. ''You | are of now," he said, and his face was something to see.
 A strange, yearning, hopeful expression lighted up those beautiful eyes as he gave mo his hand in a last goodbye. And knew that he at least was glad to sec me | go. Whyi Because a part. perhaps the whole, of his life-happiness depended on the message 1 was to deliver.
 | Sometimes I half believed that Miriam, will put this message in the grate and shut hor heart against all the advances of the light of love. It would, doubtless, be just like her to nope out her existence sorrow ing for those that need it not.
 i have had letters from her in my ab- sencc, and judge from their tone shc is very homcsick to sec me, and to get her DOT trait. 'I have Arthurs and the baby picture hung up in my room," she wrote, "where the sunset can finger over the be, loved faces, and yet lack ono moro face tc make up my trio"
 | Well, she need not wait long. But the sea grows calmer; the heavy, threatening clouds are breaking away and the sunlight if this sudden change to fair weather is a forerunner of a happy change in Miriam. How wish with all my heart, as cling tC tho railing-for the ship still rocks like 8 cradle--that might be the happy medium of bringing both these friendless orphans | together in grand reunion of love. fancy 1 can do this by diplomacy, somehow. Well wait; we shall see if it be possible.