Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-09-05


 might have strength rose from my heart
 In a few moments he entered, not fear fully hut resolutely. He was too great villain to fear death. He calmly and serenely gazed upon his dead wife. ''They have done well" he said to himself. ''Io- morrow she shall lie in a narrower cAamber-the LanGton vaults latest guest-under the shadow of the weeping willow. A fit restinG-place for one so young and fair," and he smiled coldly.
 I did not move or stir, only waited for what should come next-watching the mask gradually slip, as itwere, from that calm face-the cunning and cruelty show forth.
 ESQ.," he muttered between his teeth as he Gazed down on the still form; you escaped me after alL I swore nothing but death should come between us swore it from the first night saw you worked for that end and toiled for you sinned for you-and you, fool, preferred death-ugly, icy-handed death to me- Well, death Is well sometimes, but now were you once more alive, would put such pretty toys as stilettoes from your reach. I loved you-you knew it, but you did not waste your affection on me- could not expect to find two such as Lady Isobel, put If can love at all loved you and you were my wife. You are mlne even In death. The jewels you scorned in life are on you now-you cannot tear them from you and trample on them as you once did. You are mine now-your body is-your soul-what Is 1t to mel If could but keep you as you are that might come and look at you, snd feast my eyes upon your beauty-your beautyl Ah 1t was that that made me love you. In few days that will be gone, and S0 fhnn I shall kiss you, my lovely bride; for once | you will not shrink In death you are more mine than in life."
 What was he going to dof Good heavens, did he fulfil the promise his words conveyed, all was lost. One kiss upon that brow-beneath his touch he would feel the flow of warm life-blood and-vain had been Madohne's pleadings vain my refusal and last consent. He | would know all. This villain would once more hold within his power my darling I | must go my way and leave her with her husband-her sister, murderer.
 At the thought a sense of suffoca- l tion came over me. It Is wonder | to me now that my struggle for breath | did not attract his attention. It was the only sound which broke the awful | silence. Scarcely knowing what 1 did drew aside the curtain, behind which l stood that nothing should be between the | scoundrel and me. What intended to do 1 scarcely knew. I saw him lift the veil My arm was outstretched. l could al ready feel my fingers on his throat. I in my madness would have followed the wild promptings of my heart and laid up- on my soul the sin of which had already been so foully accused. Why not murder 1 for murder-blood for blood? If Madoline's con lecture were true, this man deserved | no less. would rather kill him and my self afterwards than that she should live as his wife and know. him for what he was. Yes; I would not spare him. | glided nearer; then waited with every nerve at highest tension.
 | Sir Philip drew near the couch. raised with an unfalLering hand the bridal veil, devoured with all his eyes the beauty of the fair face beneath, bent his head, his lips were but a hairs breadth from the pallid but warm living cheek. | Another second and he would know the truth: that moment his last on earth if my averaging arm did not fail me-a second then O sudden sound once more broke the silence the sound of a laugh-a harsh grating laugh-came floating on the air sound which made me Lremble, so that | was in imminent danger of being dis covered, while turning as pale as death and shivering from head to foot-Sir Philip. like the craven that he was let fall the veil over the dead girls face and staggered back like one bitten by an adder.
 Instinctively my eyes followed his, to where at the foot of the couch his white face gleaming out of the darkness, stood Pedro, the valet to whom had taken such dislike on the evening of his arrival with his master at Blackwater ToWers.
 "You fool" said Sir Philip. recovering IIo A.o ! you startle mep"
 "Why is 1t you were frfghtenedP" was the reply in harsh whisper, such as fit ted well with the Strange fellows appear ance. "You say yon are afraid of no liv- ing man why do you fear the deadH They cannot hurt you. Perhaps it is as well they cannots'' He laughed again. Then drew nearer, and gazed down at the form on the couch 'tShe is beautiful still," he said.
 "Yes" replied Sir Philip wiping the heavy beads of precipitation from his brow and not yet ceasing to tremble, though could see he did his best to hide his trepidation from his servant. "Yes, but it won't last long, got the inquest over to-day for that reason. She shall be buried tomorrow, so that I may see her beautiful in her coffin, and not changed and fearful as some become"
 'sAs some become when the lake has been their bed for days" said the man with sinister look. .'It is strange both your wives should have died by violence" ."
 "Hush, you fooll and yet, whattdoes it matterP All the world knows ofLady lsobers death."
 'Yes but not how she died" was the
 reply, and an expression of cunning crept into the villains face which made me shudder. But held my breath, and listened for what was to come next. What If in this one unguarded moment when they imagined themselves alone with the dead, l might hear from these williams some clue which might lead
 to their conviction of a crime of which ] could doubt no longer they were guilty.
 But no; fate did not so far befriend me, These rogues were far too cautious to trust to the air thoughts of such importance to
 them, and-to me. They had other mat ters to speak upon; and though these sur prised me beyond measure did not pay them any great heed, but counted the mo - ments that flew by in fear and trembling lest my darling should awake to con
 sciousness and all be lost.
 l In fhia int