Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-08-30

. viewless mantle, and daring to feel as other and unexceptional girls feel-that she could have forgotten herself so ut terly. She said-''so shamelessly." ''The worm on the earth may look up to the star" if it fancies that method of spending an ignoble life, but star-gaz- ing and presumptuous longing for mill lion centuries would bring planets and worms no nea1er together. Hetty was very humble in imagining the figure. Some people must live on the shady side of the street, where rents are low, and green mold gathers upon stones, and snails crawl in areas. If the wretches who pune and pale in the malaria-breeding damps would not go mad, they must not look too often across the way where flowers and people bloom. If they do, they must support the consequences.
 This misguided girl had looked. She was new suffering. That she merited what she had to bear did not make the pain less.
 Unwittingly she had spread her shawl where March had laid his rug last night. The rough bark of the tree-boie hurt her presently. Her gown was thin, and her flesh less firm than it had been six | weeks ago. She slid down upon the | shawl. her head on the cushion. and reached out, in idle misery, to pick up | some withered leaves and small, unripe apples scattered on the grass. March had dropped them while hearkening to | his sisters criticism of the Bohemian household. She was as idly-and as | miserably-tearing apart the leaves toughened by the heat of the day, when | she heard joyous rush behind her and | felt the panting of hot breath upon her neck, and Thor was kissing her face and licking her hands. She sprang to | her feet and cast 8 wild glance along | the path and under the trees. There was no one in sight. The grounds were peremptorily posted, and no vagrant | foot ever crossed them. She took in the situation at once. March had gone | to New York in the five o'clock train; the dog, wandering aimlessly about and | missing his master, had espied her, and | accepted her as substitute. She knelt down and clasped her arms about his | head; laid her cheek to his burly muzzle. "Ol ThorI Thor! you would help me if you could" Just as she had fondled him in those far-nway, blissful days. Her hand was tangled in his coat when, looking across his huge bulk, she had met March Gilchrist's eyes. True eyes | and bonny and true! which must never
 read her soul again.
 Thor! dear ThorI' She cried it out | in a passion of tears.
 The faithful fellow moaned little in
 sympathy. The more eloquent than
 human longing to comfort the sorrow
 ing, never seen except in dogs eyes, l filled and rounded his.
 l "I wouldn't cry if I could help it,
 dear" said Hetty, her arch smile strik-
 ing through the rain. And nobody else
 should see me shed tear. You are my
 only confidante; and l do believe you
 understand-a little."
 He was not an indifferent consoler, it
 appeared, for in fifteen minutes both of l them were asleep, their heads upon the
 same cushion.
 The sunset sea breeze rustled the
 stopping boughs. Arrows of greenish-
 gold, tipped with fire, were shot at ran
 dom between the leaves at the sleeping
 pair. Hetty was very pale, but the
 grieving droop of the facial lines, the | slight fullness of the lower lip, and the
 slow curve of the arm thrown above her | head made her seem like 8 child. She
 looked what she was, fairly tired out
 weariness SO intense that it would have
 chased slumber from the eyelids of an
 older sufferer. She had cried herself to
 sleep, Thor's presence giving the sense
 of protecting compapionship the child
 feels in his mothers nearness. The
 cool breath of the approaching twilight,
 the grateful shade and Sabbath stiffness
 did the rest;
 Now and then long, broken sigh
 heaVed her chest, and ran through her
 body. There was the glisten of tiny