Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-26

described, and said she ''should go down to the city and make some purchases" Sly little puss; did she imagine that [, who had played the part of detective for
 twelvemonth or more, could be hood wluked into ''spring fashions" in this man. ner! If she did, she has reckoEed without her host, as mentally cite Q wedding day somewhere adown this golden summer; a perfect day in June, no doubt, as May is
 waning. An! yes; methlnks hear we'd ng-bells, and their clear, sweet music is In harmony with tho symphony of the day. But Miriam. A couple of letters lying in
 her lap bear foreign postmarks, and she has been reading them softly to herself, smiling the while, as if tho contents were pleasing in the extreme.
 The soft, gray texture of her dress-she
 chose gray for afternoon costume, but
 there is a beautiful white satin folded away
 amid cloud of costly lace for another oc- casion-falls from her qucenly figure in full folds, and she looks every inch a vcritable queen this stately, proud daughter of tho Pcrcivals.
 "Heatherleigh is In the past" she says, turning her head, with smile which is hall joy, half sorrow ''The house of the Percivals have nothing moro in It's somber
 shadows. No; no more, foreverr "Sold" ask. "Yes; disposed of," shc answers. look ing away seaward. The fair face flushes | and pales htfully. Thcrc is Q strong tide of memory surging up from the past; thou
 sand thoughts are coming to the front for recognition, and it Is safo to say they arc not pleasant oncs-
 | Iwork away Oh my embroidery and fin-
 ish an impossible grape cluster Tn smoky
 purple without pretending to offer any thing further. Such things are best thought 0Nt RflAnHe 1Aa o6 So it hour in the soft, sweet weather without 8 word; she looking seaward and down at the letters alternately, and attentive to my embroidery, with an occasional glance
 at her face She will speak presently, and 1 toll mo what she is thinking about. have | known her long enough to know thls, and l work away, awaiting her pleasure. II have sent to the Hall for few things"
 she begins, just as l expected she would; |;
 'and if I am happy enoug gh to get those the
 whole place known as Heatherleigh may
 rest for aye under the curse of Sir Leon Heatherleigh, for aught care." Her lace f1ushes crimson, then pales like q lily; she is still revengeful and passion l ate in her hatred of the Hall had thought
 she had forgotten the old, desperate days,
 but she has not. I do not answer; l have | no words. scarcely evor have when Mir
 fam towers up in speeches like this, and
 
 greeable, perhaps, as the first Peggy Clarkson never told you" she be- gins again, "of 6 certaina nights work of 1 ours, did she-hers and minei" Her face assumes a look of mingled ! pride and defiance, and sho smiles little 1 as answer "No." 1T thought she could bo trusted, even
 unto death," and her eyes filled with tears, in memory of the deceased servant. 'Now after it is all over and done with, will tell you our little secret" she said, confldcn- tially. -. .-. -..s "Well," answer, folding my hands over
 my work, preparing to listen. .....- "My mother," continued Miriam, "had beautiful silver service of her own, and be- fore left the Hall l, with Pcggy's assist 1 ancc, hid 1t away, with several other things l of value, including my mothor's jewels. We slowed them all away i'll a recess behind the ookshelves in the library, taking the
 midnight hour for our work. Sir Rupert"
 (she never calls him fathcr) 'had forgot 1 ten, I think, the existence of tho secret cup board; and as it was closed by q sllding panel scarcely visible when closed, do not doubt but that thoy werc found Just as put them away. hope so, at least," she ended, | with a sigh.
 The pleasant cheerful look comes into her face once more. and she stoops and ab- sently gathers q dozen violets at her feet.
 There Is something moro sho wishes to tell
 me, SO wait.
 ''This is the last of May?" she speaks, in- ! terrogativeiy, and answer: "Yes, the very
 last days of the spring."
 1 A crimson flush sweeps up over check l and brow, and "Allan is coming," she con- fesSes, sweetly.
 "Oh!" I pretend to be surprised, happily | so; but was certain he would como long before this disclosure.
 But 1t does my soul good to see the | happy love-light in her beautiful eyes and to hear her confession, so reach over and
 press kiss of congratulation on her rose
 flushed check, and say: II am so glad for you, Miriam, and for Allan, too" 'Twas sure you would be-" replies Miri- | am, looking at me wistfully, questioningly. "Whatis ita"I ask, intuitively knowing she desires to ask me something from which, for some reason, sho shrinks. "Do you suppose Arthur would careI" Tho question came scarcely above whis. per, and her face takes on Q look of fright
 ened, painful inquiry. 'No," l answer, decisively, and give her l look of incredulity. l can scarcely believe my ears. 'Would Arthur carel No, Miriam, he would not; so rest contented. Do you suppose that Arthur would be SO selfish as that1" ask.
 1 She answers by a negative shake of her head, which brings one long, glossy curl
 down over her heaving bosom, but she does
 not speak. Evidently have alluded to the
 dead too abruptly. Well. have never un-
 derstood the strange, beautiful woman be- l fore me thoroughly, and what might please
 anybody else would, likely as not, fall dis
 astrously across her thoughts.
 "You shall be married here at the cot
 taRe," say, making bold attempt at
 turning her mind from the mournful past
 to the future with it's promising outlook
 My poor little cottage has never known Q
 marriage, 8 birth or death,"I add, plead
 ingly. looking straight at her for the answer 1 ''Your dear little home has been very
 lucky, tlen," she replies, with far-away,
 sad look. 1 am almost out of patience with her. 1 Why must she dwell forever on the doleful
 pasts But she speaks.
 "Yes, should like to be married here"
 she says. II was married once in church, i"
 and she shivered as if the memory of 1t
 Chilled her very soul, land I never want to
 have the ceremony repeated there."
 She fastens the violets In her flchu of
 creamy lace, and. gathering up the letters, goes in.
 l Allnn io conipo