Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-07-02

Having arrived at this determination the young master of Darrel Chace counted the days that must elapee before he could put his idea into execution.
 He indulged in lonely walks, but al- ways took great care to avoid the places that had formerly been frequented by Carol, at least when he expected she might be there.
 The shadows were gathering late one afternoon, and twilight was rapidly set ting over the land, when Roger made his way in the direction of his home.
 He had spent the day in fishing, and his success had been good, as the basket of fine trout proved. While he was yet within a mile or so of Darrel Chace, he was astonished to see female figure rise up before him and bar his way.
 In the uncertain light he could only distinguish the fact that the person who thus stood in front of him was a woman, and at first he had felt thrill run through his frame at the thought of its being Carol.
 Could she have waylaid him on pur- pose to renounce her resolve of that fatal day-the resolve that had blasted all his wild hopes of happiness No wonder the blood surged through his veins with the heat of burning lava; but 1t was only for brief period, for he speedily saw his mistake.
 The person before him was 8 wom an with great, black, velvety eyes, and face of the pure oval type, and slightly olive In color, though he had not much chance to observe 1t just then, as she hastened to speak.
 ''We are we'll met, Roger Darrel. You hnrv oR owned you master before, and not for your life would you by start or word own that you recognized me, and yet there is not person in the wide world you would hate to meet more."
 Her words were fierce and venomous, and. leaning forward, she let her great black eyes rest upon his face as though she would read his very soul. The man looked at her keenly, but, as she de- clared, by no sign or word did he give evidence of having met her before.
 One might have tho ught that he was now looking upon her face for the first time, so cool and collected was his stare.
 ''Who are your" he asked at last.
 The other did not seem to know at first whether to get angry or to laugh, but finally did the latter, and there was something cold in her forced merriment that made him shiver.
 "1 will humor you, then, and pretend that we have never met before. Behold in me gipsy girl, daughter of a queen, whom the silver tongue of a serpent lured away from the home cf her people. She was Outlawed from Ter tribe and deserted by the white-faced traitor whom she had loved and trusted with her whole heart and soul. What, then, had she to live for but revenge2'
 The hand of the gipsy maid had been creeping toward her bosom all the while, and at this juncture she flashed a shining stiletto into view. Roger Darrel caught her by the wrist with grasp of iron.
 Girl" he said sternly, 'what would you dor"
 "Do2" she hissed, 'sI would kill you, snake in the grass that lured me from happiness to a living death. I would sever your black heart with this trusty blade, dedicated to that purpose. Think not to escape the terrible vengeance of the gipsy girl. She has followed you over land and sea, waiting for the hour to strike, the hour when you would be most happy, and when life would be most dear to you. A short time ago it seemed that that hour had come, and Barbara Merriles struck the first blow. Now, when she has helped to blight your life, she comes before you, ready to finish the work with her dagger. You arc doomed, Roger Darrel, doomedr'
 He laughed lightly.
 "A fig for your threats. Barbara Mer- rifles. True, your name has often been in my mind, but never had occasion to fear you. Como closer here and look me in the face. Then you may strike with this blade, if you dare!'
 She leaned forward and her eyes were glued upon him for tho space of minute. Then she uttered sharp cry. Roger loosened his grip upon her wrist, and the hand holding the dagger dropped to her side.
 ''Wlll you strike now?" he asked qui- etly, while strange look came into his eyes.
 ssGreat Heaven! what have I seen No; your life Is tered from my dagger. You are not Roger Darrel, but the man who saved me when would have leaped into the mad river, and to whom I owe much. My God what if had slain you j; my own life would have followed, for never could have survived such base in- gratitude. I cannot look you in the face i; it seems as though the tide of recollec- tion would overwhelm mo, and I must be alone. Farewell, my friend of the past; we shall meet again."
 Before he could restraln her she had sped away, vanishing among the shad- ows of the trees.
 Roger Darrel resumed his walk in the direction of his home.
 What thoughts were surging through his mind just then it would be hard in- deed to say, but he seemed to be labor ing under some powerful emotion, for every now and then he muttered some- thing under his breath and clenched his disengaged hand.
 What was it the gipsy girl had said? ''Not Roger Darrell"
 An thara was still anOthar mvatarv