Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-09-12

not fleeing from the sound of the music but standing with her big blue eyes look ing into vacancy---her hands clasped firmly over her breast, which heaves and falls, as she breathes heavily. Then sec her no longer--my eyes have fallen upon the legend inscribed upon my harp's frame, and I am playing--playing with heart and souI putting into my music the prayer my trembling lips refuse 10 utter. Out into the room the melody fioats and Madeline stands like one chained to the spot-although I know 1t not staring wildly before her. Evidently she is the victim of some great excitement, So she stands spell-bound while I, all forgetful of her presence, play on with all the fervor which had made my prayer heard on that night years ago, when first I saw her angel face looking down full of soft womauly pity through the darkness ---playing so that 1 do not hear her hurried breathing--else might feel she Is ill----s) absorbed that do not hear the slight figure cross the tioor-know noth- ing until see the angel face gazing In reality up at me, full of--whAtf Of recognition, doubtful but still there. A moment and in my sudden almost ter TOT, so fearful is the renewed hope. my fingers almost cease to do their work, but force them to the end of the melody one chord and 1t Is ended. But thu chord is never struck-two white hands dash mine from the strinRs--- | two arms twine themselves round my | neck---a soft voice says--yes, says "Leonardp'
 Madeline knows mel The music has | saved her---the legend is true | With one wild cry of thRnkfulness l clasp her to me as all consciousness leaves 1 her.
 Then as I hold her to my heart and l 1l Tapa a sudden sound in the hall wakes me to | consciousness.
 It Is some one asking for me, and they are being shown in here-in this room.
 With a cry Of terror look round for means of escape, for know shat voice | among a thousand, and it's utterancO | strike terror to my heart
 My spy has failed in his work, and my enemy Is upon me before have time to plan what I shall do-scarcsly time to | think.
 Helplessly gaze round mo as the steps come nearer. What can do? Whore can l hide my darling-my lamb from the wolf who is at the doOrH In moment | 1t will be too late. He will see her and he will drag her from mo just when she has Rwoke at last from the sleep of death, and is living indeed, or at least dare think Bo yet trenble lest my hopes should be l once moro aashed Even this may not stay to determine, for If I stay one l moment it will be too late he will take her from me. Will quietly allow thisr
 Never-neverl l have saved her SO far. will save her yet
 Quick as thought raise her in'my AHms for she is 50 fragile can easily do this, bear her across the room, lay her hfslsSs and pale upon a sofa which iS her favor ite seat, for 1t Is in a recess, and draw the curtain forward so as to partially hide 1 her.
 Not a moment too soon; as once more recrUss the room the visitor who wishes to see me enters At length Sir Philip Langton and stand face to face.
 There is no exchange of greeting; we meet each others glance calmly and col lectedly.
 'so," be says, in his clear ringing voice, ''I have found you at last, Leonard Gaston."
 "And what might be your business with me2"
 "A totally unnecessary question that you know what 1t is Only a few days ago discovered that under the alias of Leonard Ferrol murderer masqHeradsd. Rm your accuser; your deed was the result of mad passion, and as am Q man of peace myself, might have let you live on with no greater ratTibutior in Eh1i world than tho knowledge of your crime and the remembrance of tho just punish ment which awaits you in the next. But the police may not be inclined to look SC dispasSionRtsly at the matter. may run the risk of mourning their disp1eRsuHe and that would net, as } ou know, wan tonly do. Therefore I am compelled tt take some steps in this affair. You will
 dc well to submit quietly and let justice I --