Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-10-22

umes of smoke into the crisp morning
air fails to give him the accustomed
solace. There is as yet no sign of life
in the street. His gaze is fixed intently
on a small house a couple of blocks
away, before which big sign affixed
to post announces that it is the habi-
tation of ''Mrs. Evesham, milliner and
dressmaker.''
At last the watcher is rewarded by the
sound of wheels and the crealzing of I'M
CREASED axles, and he sees Mr.. James
Dolman of Havana make his appear
ance behind his two shaggy ponies and
drive straight to the garden-gate of the
widows cottage.
The woodcn-faced farmer is not kept
long waiting. There is hum of femi-
nine voices, the door opens, and Wanda
Arlington comes forth, looking in her
white muslin dress and broad straw hat
SO fresh and pretty that even old Bla-
don's eyes soften with honest admira-
ton. She is accompanied by Mrs. Eve
sham and Kate, the former not looking
much older than when we saw her ff-
teen years ago; the latter developed
into handsome young woman of four
and-twenty-ind hers is a beauty
y
Though in all respects she is contrast
to the girl around whose waist her arm
is encircled, you cannot but confess that
she has as great reason to be con-
sidered perfect type of her peculiar
| style as Wanda Arlington herself. The
one, the violet; the other, the rose.
The one, soft, sweet, modest, radiant,
like delicate flower with a CLEAN of
- - 9TH lo1
| Gus, Juno-lil1c, as the rainbow-hued
plant nurtured by the misunderstanding
| sun of the tropics.
Wanda kisses the dear ones good-by
and steps lightly into the seat beside
| Farmer Dolman, who, like most coun-
| try yokels, is subdued into silence In
the presence of ladies. He can scarce
find words to refuse Mrs. Evesham's
offer of refreshment. Then, amid
much waving of handkerchiefs and
| many last expressions of affection on
the part of the women folk, the
charioteer rasps the horses mouths
| with a vicious jerk of the rein, utters a
longdrawn-out "Git a-u-p!' and the
| equipage moves away.
Not until it is quite out of sight, and
the widows door has been closed, does
William Bladon stir-then taking one
last look up the silent street, he knocks
the ashes from his pipe and turns his
steps towards rustic seat under an
apple tree in the orchard, muttering
with intense satisfaction: THANK our
lucky stars, that little baggage be off at
last"
In this pleasant retirement, with
nothing to disturb him but the wild
note of the blackbird or the merry
chirp of the sparrow, he sits for long
time lost in silent meditation.
Then, sudden thought seems 10
strike him. He deliberately takes of
his waistcoat and sets to work with his
knife to pick out some stitches, which
had bound an inner pocket of the gar
ment. This accomplished, he draws
forth large leather wallet from which
he extracts number of papers careful
ly folded, some of them in sealed en-,
velopes. At last he finds what he Is
looking for, a photograph. On this he
concentrates his attention, gazing at it
for long time with fixed eagerness
1t is the portrait of a young and beauti
full woman, and more and more puzzled
is the expression on the old mans face
as his eyes rest on the perfect features
I strange now ike she De!' ne nut
tiers to himself. THE very image Of
her ladyship, as she stood that awesome
day on the lawn of the old hall
1 when"
The tap of cane on the stoop close
by reused him from his cogitations.
The old man started at the Interrupt
ton.
Heart alive! 1t is the young master
himself" he gasped, as he hurriedlJ
thrust photograph and papers back inte
his pocket.
"Bladon! Bladon! Where are you?'
George Arundel cried impatiently.
"Here be, Master George, under the
apple tree" the old man replied, run
ming forward to lead him to the seat
Il could ma find in my heart to cal
thee, thou vert sleepin' so calm anc
quiet like"
Then am too late Oh, Bladon, d.
not say that she Is gone and not vi
to bid her Godspeed!"
81 am afeared she have, Maste
George" Bladon replied, humbly