Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-07-21
CHAPTER XVI.

The water in that tarn among the hills still rippled in widening circles which told so much, and yet so little, when Fitz Spendir (his face set in hard, stern lines, though he was quite cool. to all outward seeming) walked on past the waterfall, making-almost unconscious ly-a wide circuit before he took the foot-path across the hill to Neither Lane.
 He turned the key in the door, and entered his cottage with istless step. Bare and chill and empty the room looked to him, as he hesitated Q moment within the threshold.
 "What matter" he muttered, push ing the hair from his sunburned face, "what matter how cheerlessp It can hardly look more solitary even when we have left it-for he will be doubly bent upon our leaving now. Poor Jet Poor laddie It was almost cruel, after all, to rescue the boy only just to link his life with mine. My life What a have spoken to the villain tonight for the first time since he taught me, five years ago, how black a mans heart could be; taught me other lessons, too good lessons, useful lessons. My God l dare remember this, and know that it was only into a shallow pond flung him Why, the whole ocean could not wash away the blackness of his foul heart; and I only threw him there-he, the best swimmer in all Highshire-unless the weight of his mean crimes"
 Fitz-busy now arranging his work broke of with laugh, keen and sarcas- tic, but hardly bitter; there seemed even now to belong no bitterness to the handsome bronzed face and the warm, brave eyes.
 "Tm sorry l didn't go on to meet the lad, he thought, bending busily over his pencil, "but somehow he went out of my head entirely, and it's no use go- Ing back now. He can well take care of himself, poor little fellow; he has had practice enough, at any rate, to keep his hand in. must have Q light, but 1 can leave the shutters open to guide him."
 So, beside the lamp in the unshuttered room, the artist was sitting, intent and occupied, when, from the gloom with. out, that was not darkness even vet, Sir Neil AEhelston came in to him.
 At the opening of the door, Fitz had raised his head with welcoming glance. thinking to see Jet. When his eyes met Sir Neil's they darkened suddenly and strangely.
 "An unexpected honor," he said. looking coolly at the young baronet and leaning back in his stiff. hard chair. "To what do owe the charm of this surprise?"
 Sir Neil was anxious, evidently anx- ious, elsc his face would have illustrated more vividly the haughtiness of the thoughts which stirred within him at the artists words.
 wonder you venture to ask" he said; "you are too fresh from your prime to need a reminder of it, and I do not covet the pleasure of recapitulating 1t.
 "I should be glad to know to what crime you refer," put in FitE, deliber- ately. 1T am accustomed to having crimes laid to my charge, but I like clearness in the accusation. Go on, 1 have no other objection to offer-mere- iy that one of vagueness in the charge brought against me"
 l "Confound it l" exclaimed Sir Neil. hotly, "what do you mean by speaking to ought to be in prison now-who will be | in prison before an hour is over p
 "Oh, in prison I" echoed Fitz, in a voice whose strange, slow gravity struck on his listeners ear. "Quite pleasant place, when you are used to it. Mylines always have fallen in pleasant places, though, as somebody says; and so I have learned to expect it. Have you any prospect to hold out to me beyond that general one of q prison. Neil Athelston H''