Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-01-24
CHAPTER XII.
IDA GOES TO MEET HER FATE.

IDA GOES TO MEET HER FATE. Most people of q certain age and a certain degree of sensitiveness of disposition, in look ing back down the vista of their lives, ,whereon memorys melancholy light plays in fitful flashes like the alternate glow of censer swung ill the twilight of tomb, can recall some one night of peculiar mental agony One way or another it has been with most of us, that long night of utter woe and all will own that 1t is ghastly thing to face.
 And so Ida de la Molle had found it. The shriek of the great gale rushing on that Christmas eve round the stout Norman towers was not more strong than the breath of the despair that shook her life. She could not sleep-who could sleep on such a night, the herald of such morrowa The wall and roar of the wind, the crash of falling trees, and the rattle of flying stones seemed to form fit accompaniment to the turmoil of her mind
 she rose, and putting on her dressing gown, went to the window, and in the dlm light watched the trees gigantically tossing in great struggle for their life. An oak and a birch were within her view. The oak stood the gale out-for awhile. Presently there came an awful gust and beat upon 1t. It would not bend, and the tough roots would not give, so beneath the weight of the breath of its destiny the big tree broke in two like e straw, and its spreading top was whirled into the moat. But the birch gave and bent; it bent till it's delicate flaments lay upon the wind like woman's streaming hair, and the fierceness of the gust wore itself away and spared it.
 See what happens to those who stand up and defy their fate," said Ida to herself, with a bitter laugh. ''The birch has the best of it.n
 Ida rose and closed the shutters; the sight of the storm affected her already strained nerves almost beyond bearing She began to walk up and down the big room, fitting like ghost from end to end and back again, and again back. What could she dol What should she doa Her fate was upon her; she could no longer resist the inevitable-she must marry him. And yet her whole soul revolted from the act with an overwhelming ferceness which astonished even herself She had known two girls who had married people whom they did not like, being at the time, or pretending to be, attached to somebody else and she had observed that they accommo- dated themselves to their fate with consid- erable ease. But it was not so with her; she was fashioned of another clay and it made her faint to think of what was before her. And yet the prospect was one on which she could expect little sympathy. Her own father, although personally he dislked the man whom she must marry, was clearly filled with amazement that she should prefer Col Guar itch, middle aged, poor and plain, to Edward Cossey-handsome, young, and rich as Croesus He could not comprehend or mea- sure the extraordinary gulf which her pas sion dug between the two. If, therefore, this was so with her own father, how would it be with the rest of the world1
 She paced her bedroom till she was tired, and then, in ap access of despair which was sufficiently distressing in a person of her re- served and stately manner, flung herself,
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