Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-03-27
MISS CLARE.
By MARIA L. POOL

which it may lead. Am l talking strangeIy?" She paused moment, and then continued with flushed cheeks and wild eyes: "Ah! to what will not my un- governable temper lead me if am tempted too much: 1 try to control it. but sometimes am not mistress of my self. It is very humiliating to think of it."
 She put the pistol in her cloak pocket with a gesture ot disgust and looked up at me with eyes in which there was strange, unconscious, beseeching look that thrilled to my soul.
 Miss Clare," said. in a low, steady voice, 'the unaccustomed solitude ot your life has made you morbid. The un- healthy impulse you mention is common to sensitive minds. particularly when the surroundings favor it. Pray. has your demon presented himself in tangible form? Has he an eye of coal and a tongue of flame?'
 She turned away her face with look of relief
 "I know I am childish sometimes did not use to be so." in faltering voice Do trouble and persecution SN'>' denly, looking at me.
 "They do sometimes" 1 answered. But they never would have that effect upon you-it would be worse effect. l am afraid.
 Worse! How is that" she asked coming a step nearer me in her interest Make you cynical and unbelieving- mako you doubt the existence of faith, love and purity in the world. God de- liver you from such fate, for there is none worse!
 uttered the last words with all the fervency I felt. 1 took the hand that hung by her side. She did not withdraw l it immediately. She looked down and said with unutterable sadness: II have distrusted everybody, every thing; 1 have almost lost faith ill God himself. Such treachery, such vile, in- human wretches as I have known-and to think that once blindly believed and trusted in them! Can you, MT. Perrom, after your years of battle with the world. can you still tell one to believe ill human nature-to believe in trustworthinesso once l more?"
 Her voice changed from the cadence of | sadness to the clear, impetuous question ing that will be answered. Ihesitated for moment. The power | full, fiery love within me pleaded hard for utterance. Ibroke out with rapid worlds | Miss Clare, offer you my life to show that to you, of all women ill the world, 1 to you, one man will be true.' | All my soul was in my words. l could have died, gladly and worthily for an assurance of love from Viviane Clare. She averted her face, but 1 saw the dropping lid, the quivering mouth. For a moment she did not speak-at last she said:
 | My last words were not said to ex, tract that expression from you, MT. Per rom; you do not know what fate you seek"
 She walked away q little distance When she came back, her face was quiet -~her manner that indescribable min gling of the utmost cordiality with the utmost reserve.
 II trust to you, MT. Perrom, to point out my faults of position and aim; fol in this shooting must rival a friend o1 mine who has declared that a womans nerves are not steady enough to hit { 
 target"
 Could give up thus easily my happi ness for life? I could, at least, contro my face and tone. The voice ill whicl 1 replied to Miss Clare was the same il
 which might have spoken to Mrs. Jer dan.
 She raised her pistol for another trial
 when her hand was stayed by the sount
 of rapid footsteps on the frozen ground
 and the appearance of man walkin:
 toward us from few yards behind tn
 target. The hand fell to her side witt
 her finger still on the trigger. Instead
 of looking toward the man, 1 instinctlve
 ly, and with feeling of dread, looked
 at Miss Clare. All the color that tn
 sharp air had called to her face gradual,
 left it. Her very lips paled and seemed
 to grow moveless.