Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-02-08

Shc tras just turning a,cau
 course. wo could have got some sort of a place for you at the last moment. Sho didn't say anything, but 1 thought-if you won't mind my saying so, MT. ke1fdal-that, con- sidering all things, it would have been better if you had been there"
 Ut seems to me-" said Kendall, with vexa- ton in his voice. "that there is fate against my doing anything as I ought to do it. l thought, on the whole, 1t would be better not to make n fuss about it when it came to the last. You see she must look upon me to some extent as q critical, if not a hostile, in- fuencc, and did not wish to remind her ot my existence"
 "Oh, well, said Mrs. Stuart, in her cheery, common sense way, "that evening was such an overwhelming experience that 1 don't suppose she could have felt any soreness to- wards anybody. And, do you know, she is improvcda l don't quite know what it is, but certainly one or two cf those long scenes she does more intelligently, and even the death scene is better-less monotonous. l sometimes think she will surprise us all yet"
 'Very likely" said Kendall, abseutly, not in reality believing word it, but it was inl- possible to dissent.
 II hopo so," exclaimed Mrs. Stuart, "with all my heart. She has been very depressed often these last weeks, and certainly, oa the whole, people have been harder upon her than they were at first l am so glad that she and your sister will meet ia Venice. Mime dc Chateauvieux is just the friend she wants"
 Kendall walked homo feeling the ranking of q fresh pin point. She had asked for him, and he had not been therel What must she think, apparently, but that, from sour, morose consistency, ho had refused to be witness of her triumph
 Oh, hostile fates!
 A week later Eustaco was settled in the Surrey farm house which had sheltered the Sunday league ou it's first expedition. Tho Surrey country was in its full glory; the first purple heather was fully out and the distant hills rose blue and vaporous across stretches of vivid crimson broken hero and there by the dim gray greens of the furze Of the sharper color of the bracken. The chorus of birds had died away, but the nests were not yet tenantless. The great saad pit near tho farm house was still vocal with innumerable broods of sand martins, still enlivened by the constant skimming to and fro of the parent birds. And under kendals sitting room window pair of tomtits, which the party had watched that May Sunday, were just launching their young family on the world. One of his first walks was to that spot beyond the pond where they had made their after AAooA SdAlElASS StOuIlO 4dS uuI udtCucS udu fed-hed, Kendall hoped, some time before, for the hand of the spoiler had been near their dwelling, and it's fragments lay scat tered on the ground. He presently learned to notice that he never heard the sharp sound of the birds tapping beak among tho woods without little start of recollection.
 Outside his walks, his days were spent in continuous literary effort. His bool, was in a condition which called for all his energies, and he threw himself vigorously into it. Tho first weeks were taken up with a long review of Victor Hugo's prose and poetry, with a view to final critical result. It seemed to him that there was stuff in the great French man to suit all weathers and all skies. There were somber, wind swept days when tho stretches Of brown ling not yet in flower the hurrying clouds and the bending trees were ip harmony with all the fierce teinpestuous side of the great romantic. There were others when the homely, tender, domestic l aspect of the country formed sort of frame work and accompaniment Go the simpler patriarchal clements in the books which Ken dal had about him. Then, when the pages on Victor Hugo were written, those already printed on Chateaubriand began to dissht- isfy him, and he steeped himself once more in the rolling artificial harmonies, the mingled beauty and falsity of one of the most wonder full of styles, that he might draw from it its secrets and say last just word about it. He knew few families in the neighbor. hood, but he kept away from them. and al. most his only connection with the outer world during his first month in the country was his correspondence with Mime de Chateauvieux, who was at Etretat with her husband She wrote her bother very lively characteristic accounts of the life there fill ing her letters with amusing sketches of the political or. artistic celebrities with whom the little Norman town swarms in the season. After the third or fourth letter, however, Kendall began to look restlessly at the Etretat postmark, to reflect that Marie had been there long time, and to wonder she | was not already tired of such public sort of existence as the Etretat life. The bathing scenes, and the fire eating, deputy, and the literary woman with a mission for the spread | of naturalisn, became very flat to him. He was astonished that his sister was not as | anxious to start for Italy as he was to hear l that she had done so. .... This temper of his was connected with the | fact that after the first of August be began | to develop a curious iu,pasience on tho sub l ject of the daily post. At Old House farm | the post was taken as leisurely as everything | else; there was no regular delivery, and Ken l dal generally was content to trust to the | casual mercies of tho butcher or baker for his l letters But after the date mentioned it oc- l cured to him that letters reached him l with on abominable regularity, and that it l would do his work no harm, but, on the con- 1 trary, much good if he took daily constitu- tional in the direction ot the postofice, which 1 gave touch of official dignity to the wasp 1 filled precincts of grocer's shop in the viii l lage, some two miles off.
 For some considerable number of dayv, however, his walks only furnished him with food for reflection on the common dispropor- tion of means to ends in this life. His sisters persistence in sticking to the soil of France began to seem to him extraordinary! How To be continued.
 l IL ES HOTEL. GA Bank Street,