Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-04-10

echo of the old imperious infections of speech, when something went wrong in the simple programme of their house keeping; once or twice she laughed aloud at some of Sam Lees achieve ments. At least, the old, monotonous calm was broken; she had fits of de- pression, felt keenly in the sensitive household atmosphere.
 It was the evening after the coming of the ring. Helen found herself at the very bottom of her register of feeling. They were all out of doors in the large starred. dewless Southwestern night. The two men outstretched on their blankets lay silently smoking. Helen, swinging in her hammock, was speech less, too. By and by Harry asked her some trivial question, and the voice that answered him was hoarse with tears. He took no notice, and a minute after she went into the house. Harry followed her, and came back after awhile, his own voice not over steady.
 That girl has broken down at last. It's the first time in years, and not easy years either. doubt if any one has seen her cry since she came home."
 ''Mrs. Morse?"
 'Who else?' testify. 'How I hate the name-I never even think of it if l can help it. You don't know the story?"
 "I have guessed-that is, l mean couldn't help knowing there was some thing painful. Mrs. Morse is young to be widow"
 "She is twenty-five" brusquely. "Helen always would have her own way. She had it when she was seven teen, and married a scoundrel. He got life sentence for train robbery, and was killed trying to make his escape from prison. She got the news the day her only child was buried"
 Bronson gave half-groan, sound almost like sob. as Tryon paused in his blunt recital.
 ''That was two years ago. She never whimpered under it, and tonight she is crying as if she would kill herself. And I don't know but she will. Think of a woman's life going to wreck like that. " Whatever Bronson may have thought, he said nothing. There was long si- fence and much tobacco smoke.
 Don't they take something?' he said, hesitatingly, after awhile. 'A cup of tea or something. I'll broil a quail, if you like"
 ''That's so," accepting the suggestion cheerfully. Then they went out into Sam Lees shining little kitchen, and pottered about with the best of inten- tions, but with much disturbance of 1 small, iingling movables. Helen's cry l ing was over now. She lay prone and nerveless with the exhaustion of such ! l. f11e pots and pans, and wondered faintly 1 about it.
 Harry opened the door finally, with a 1 laden tray in his hands
 'sI made the tea," he explained, breathlessly, land Bronson cooked the bird, and we couldn't find the bread"
 Helen sat up and pushed the damp hair back from her face.
 "Bronson thought of it, he said, per suasively. ''I'd try and eat little, 5 And Helen drank her tea, and nibbled her bird with an unsmiling sense of the unfitness of things when meat and drink were offered as a remedy for such troubles as hers.
 But it did her good. She slept dream lessly that night, and if she came out to breakfast with heavy shadows under her eyes, the sad-lipped mouth had lost little of it's rigid lines of pain.
 There had been an epidemic of law lessness through the country for the last few weeks. The particular mani festation of the disease was horse-steal ing. Now, to take a mans horse was generally worse-for the community than taking his life. The public sense of justice did not always wait for the slow and rather uncertain action of the law. Harry rode away that evening without defining his business, and Bron- son found Helen alone, in her hammock as usual.
 These two did not find talk necessary They had reached that grade of ac quaintanceship where long silences art unmarked A soundless half hour passed Helen lay with half-shut eyes, watch