Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-08-19


 an omnibus and gave the driver his direc- tlons. she moved her lips in prayerful thanks.
 Between the drizzling rain and the foggy, smoky outlook, Miriam scarcely recognized tho number and place, as described in the letter, when Hollis helped her up tho steps of the second-rate establishment in middle London, with Q shop on either side. II will never be any better" tho sick man said, holding Miriam's hand in hls thin, almost transparent fingers. II sent for you because l wanted some ono of my kin near me when ;. I died. 1 am aware of the shadow which has cursed your life and mine. had the reve- lation from my father; he said it was as much his duty to give me the Percival le- gend as it was tolive Christian, but I have never yet seen any good come of my know ing it."
 Mo good to either of us,' said Miriam, with stony face.
 The past came up in all it's terrible me- nacing vengeance before her, and she shut her teeth to keep back the imprecation about to be uttered; not because of her own wrongs; no, she could suffer with all tho calmness of a stoic, but tfis pale, fragile cousin had also been smitten. Prone on 8 sick bed he lay, the picture of his handsome father, her Uncle Allan, whose name he bore.
 "Uncle Allan was disinherited," sad Miriam, savagely, ''and so was l, for the same reason"
 The dark eyes of the patient man on the pillow sought hers inquiringly. 'They were all disinherited for marrying in oppo- sition to paternal wishes, if understood it arightl"
 "Yes," asscnted Miriam, s'and married better companions than the petted children who staid at Heatherleigh and courted society swells."
 Allan smiled at the show of hatred in tone and manner, strange, wan, pitying smile.
 Cousin Miriams tone was the very counterpart of his fathers, he remembered To be Percival was 10 have Q soul fitted for hatred, he verify believed. In this he was not Percival, then; his mothers milder blood warmed a heart fitted for for givcness. He was only a Percival in name "Ah! me-" and he sighed audibly.
 ''Do not grieve, beg," said Miriam, soft ening, "the hopelessness of it is enough without grieving to make it worse. Where did uncle dieF' she asked, changing the drift of conversation.
 'In Trouville, France; my mother, also is buried there. After their demise came back to London to-be near you"
 ''Mea" asked Miriam. "How did you know was even in England?" "Oh! knew" replied Allan, brightening visi5ly. "The Montcalms arc old friends of my relatives on my mothers side, and Hollis engagement to Miss Fairfax led the way to several other connecting links, whereby I traced you to the Rest, that lovely home by the sea. By inquiry found that you were my cousin, Uncle Rupert's daughter wrote to you because counted it heavenly privilege if haply 1 might Con fn fnon ,fpn 1oti moro''
 He reached out his hand and touched her sleeve significantly. "Mourning," ho said, sadly; ''mourning for Aunt Percival-swelt Lady Pcrcival, as 1 have heard, and your husband, Arthur Fairfax. An! well, wear little knot of crapo for me, after awhile, won't yous''
 His dark, serious eyes turned with plead ing look wlstfully on the handsome face of his cousin for reply. "Yes," sho said, tearfully. Then deep silence reigned in that gloomy apartment where death and despair were preying re- lentlessly each upon their respective victim. Outside the rain came in gusty dashes against the pane, and in the corners of the room the deep shadows were already gath. ering.
 It was evening. Hollis had taken his leave and was now with Patricia, enjoying the luxurious warmth and elegance of the Montcalm residence in tho aristocratic West End.
 She, with her proud soul almost rent in twain, was sitting there in tho close, unpleas ant rooms of 8 dlngy establishment in the busy, restless central part of the city by the bedside of her only living relative, ex- cepting her unnatural father, who would not recognize their relationship. The sick man shut his eyes and remai ined friend with him at tho last The physician had said he could not last many days now, and she, Miriam, his regal cousin would re- main until the end came. He had not asked this of her, but ho knew by the deep, grieved expression on her beautiful face that she would grant him this priceless boon.
 The attendant brought in lights and, un. derstanding that this woman was the ex. pected relative, show ed her to her rooms in the adjoining suite. Miriam's rich apparel and costly belongings set the servant to wondering why she had not come before and helped her relative financially before he lay down to die.
 The next day Miriam set about in earnest to make the sick-room as cheerful as possi- ble. "He did not dare to be moved" the physician had said when she suggested
 living in pleasanter apartments. That be
 M R