Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-09-10

A stand each other. Then I will tell you the truth" and I know by that he has not done so before-why, I cannot tell, but understand later on. 1 can see he is striving hard to keep down a growing excitement which we'll nigh masters him.
 ''Yes" say, rising also "there Is mystery in my life-the key to which, if l mistake not, is in your hand" am pre- fectly calm, and speak with deliberation which surprises even myself.
 Let me tell you why it is so interest myself in one who to you seems to be a perfect fstranRer to me-this sister of yours.'
 And, standing face to face, tell my tale.
 He listens, with his dark eyes full of strange meaning to the end-then he motions me to a seat and sinks into one himself. hiding hls face in his handa.
 I cross to his side Gerald Linden, you do not speak. Why does my tale affect youP Will you tell me howl Is this girl whose picture you painted your sister or moi"
 ''No, she is not. God help mel My father is to blame; but judge him as gently as you can, for he is dead. I|-"
 stayed to hear no more, but with 6 shout sprang to my feet-''Then she is she whom lost"
 For answer he bowed his head, then raised 1t suddenly. and saw 8 sudden light shine in his eyes-he laid his hand heavily on my shoulder, and bade me huTriedly "Ro on," but had followed the direction of his glance: and thtther turned-turned to where, standing hah in and half out of the room, between the two heavy velvet cushions which hung over the open French windOw-stood Madeline Oakleyl
 No dream, no delusion, this time, but she herself clad in a loose flowing white robe. such as she had worn in the pictare which had seen, and in her hand. hold ing 1t high aloft above her head, while she raised the other as though to com mand to silence-the skull, as she sa4d in that sweet silvery voice which made my head stand still, "Who callsP" had no power to answer, only gaze, gaze with all my eyes at the strange apparition-it seemed no less to me-the white shroud-like garment and the skull And as stood spell-bound the voice goes on:
 "Who calls? It is no use, cannot heaE. l Do you know whyf Because I ana dea&~- at least they think so. They do not know | that it Is only a sleep-the sleep of tho 1 rose. It was strange SO fair e flower l should taint the water SO. It was quite black, but all things, however beautiful, l are ugly after death. He," with a shud- l der, which left no doubt in my mind ca | to whom she conld mean-"He said so, | and he knows, because he has seen it, not l often but once-when they found her in | the lake. She died. you know" And the silvery voice grew hard and cold as it minced the utterance of the murderer. "She died. He thought was more beauti- fu1 than she, but 1t was not so. am pretty, my love said SO; but she-she was so beau tiful and oh she loved him sor' And the sentence was in an awS-struck whisper. I used to tell her, only for fun you know, 1t was Q shame to love him 90. I could never love any one so much. but then had not seen my love. I under stand it all now. 1 love my love more than she did. Her love. you know, was not a love at all; he was a devil" How fearfully the word came from the pale lips, and a warning finger was once more raised. 'tHe was 6 devil-thers were two know 1t was wrong, but hated him. He put cold jewels round my neck-they felt like e snake trying to choke me l feel them now" and she Sfasped her white throat with her hands, then sudden. ly let go her hold and smiled. ''why dc l fearFNHe did not put them. on; ft was my love, lest he should miss them and
 know-what he must not know. They
 were his jewels; he fastened them on heI neck, but he gave them really to me-he meant them for me-beeAuse he thought a was more beautiful. She was beautiful