Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-01-21

due, and this also they pressed and clamored for, till the old gentleman was nearly driven out of his senses, and, as q consequence. drove everybody about the place out of | theirs.
 At last this state of affairs began to tell upon his constitution, which, strong as he
 was, could not at his age withstand such con- stant worry. He grew to look years older,
 his shoulders acquired stoop, and his mem ory began to fail him, especially on matters connected with the mortgages and farm ac- counts. Ida, too, became pale and ill; she caught heavy cold, which she could not throw off, and her face acquired a perma- nently pained and yet listless look.
 One day, it was on the 18th of December, things reached a climax. When Ida came down to breakfast she found her father busy lawyers.
 "What is it now, fatherT' she said
 "What is it now7" he answered, irritably "Why, it's another claim for e2OO that's what it is l keep telling them to write to my lawyers, but they won't; at least they write to me, too. There, can't make head or tail of it. Look here," and he showed her two sides of big sheet of paper covered with statements of accounts. Anyhow, have not got 92OO, that's clear. Idon't know where we are going to find the money to pay the three months interest I'm worn out, Ida, I'm worn out; that's the long and short of it. get so confused with all these fig ures. I'm an old man now, and all these troubles are too much for me-"
 "You must not talk like that, father" she | answered, not knowing what else to say, for affairs were indeed desperate.
 "Yes, yes, it's all very we'll to talk so, but facts are stubborn. Our family is ruined, and we must accept it.
 Cannot the money be got anyhow? Is there nothing to be dones" she asked, des-
 perately.
 "What is the good of asking me thata There is only one thing that can save us and you know what it is as we'll as do. But you are your own mistress. I have no right to put pressure on you. You must please your self Meanwhile think we had better leave this place at once and go and live in a cottage somewhere, if we can get enough to support us; if not, we must starve, l suppose can not keep up appearances any longer"
 Ida rose and with a strange, sad light of resolution shining in her eyes came to where her father was sitting and, putting her hands upon his shoulders, looked him in the 1 face.
 Father" she said, ''do you wish me to | marry that manr'
 "Wish you to marry him9 What do you mean?" he said, not without irritation and avoiding her gaze. 'It is no affair of mine don't like the man. if that's what you mean He is acting like-well, like the cur that he is, in putting on the screw as he is doing, but of course that is the way out of it and the only way, and there you are."
 "Father," she said again, twill you give me ten days, that is, until Christmas daya If nothing happens between this and then, 1 | will marry MT. Edward Cossey." A sudden light of hope shone in his eyes. She saw it, though he tried to hide it by turning his head away.
 "Oh, yes," he answered, 'as you wish; settle it one way or the other on Christmas day, and then we can go out with the New 1 Year. You see, your brother James is dead, and have no one left to advise me now, and I suppose that I am getting old, At any rate, things seem to be too much for me. Settle it as you like. Settle it as you like," and he got up, leaving his breakfast half swallowed, and went off to moon aimlessly about the park.
 So she made up her mind at last. This l was the end of her struggling. She could not let her old father be turned out of house | and home to starve, for practically they 1 would starve. She knew her hateful lover | we'll enough to be aware that he would show | no mercy. It was question of the woman ! or the money, and she was the woman. l Either she must let him take her or they | must be destroyed; there was no middle l course And in these circumstances there | was no room for hesitation. Once more her duty became clear to her. She must give up her love, she must give up herself We'll, SO be it. She was weary of the long endeavor against fortune, now she would yield and let the tide of utter misery sweep over like a sea-and bear her away till at last it brought | her to that oblivion in which, perchance, all l things come right or are as though they had never been.
 She had scarcely spoken to her lover, liar old Quaritch, for some weeks. She had, as | she understood it, entered into kind of un- spoken agreement with her father not to do SO and that agreement Harold had under stood and respected Since their last letters to each other they had met once or twice casually or at church and interchanged a few different words, though their eyes spoke another story and touched each others hands and parted, and that was absolutely all. But now that she had come to this mo- mentous decision, she felt that he had a right to learn 1t, and so once moro she wrote to him. She might have gone to see him or told him to meet her, but she would not For one thing she did not dare to trust her self on such an errand in his dear company, for another she was too proud, thinking that if her father came to hear of it he might con- sider that it had a clandestine and underhand appearance.
 And so she wrote. With all she said we need not concern ourselves. The letter was passionate, more passionate than one would perhaps have expected from a woman of Ida's calm and stately sort. But a mountain may have heart of fire, although it is clad in l snows, and so 1t sometimes is with women who look cold and unconditional as marble. Besides, it was her last chanee-she could write him no more letters, and she had much to say.
 "And so have decided, Harold" she said, l after telling him of all her doubts and trou- bles. Imust do it.; there is no help for it, as think you will see I have asked for the ten Jays respite. Well, Ireally hardly know why, except that it respite. And now, what is there left to say to you except good-bya I love you, Harold; make no secret of it, and shall never love any other. Remember all your life that love you and have not for n,,%x TN