Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-01-07

n AAA4 w LA A- -A@-ABA& V -A-B ] have never been happy about the mat ter; and see plainly that Claud cannot forget
 "You have all behaved cruelty to'Miss Villiers," said the chaplain uncompro- misingly. If this story is hushed up before marriage it is sure to come out afterwards. And if I judge Adeline Nillicrs rightly she is a woman who would suffer acutely under the blow of such disclosure. Besides this ill-used girl may rcappear?"
 II have thought of that" Steward answered sadly. And yet fancied that she would not live long after Claud's dcsertion. Hers was the kind of beauty that one always associates with early decay"
 Then she was very beautiful?''
 Would you like to see her portraitP' said Aylstone. Il made study of her head"
 The chaplain assented, and Seaward led the way upstairs to the studio. Then he turned up the lamps, and went to a corner where two or three unframed pictures were leaning against tlc wall
 Il always meant to put her into a group" hl said. II had an idea in my mind, bat l never carried it out, and then she disappeared; and somehow I have never cared to lcoll often at this" He turned the canvas to the light, and showed a pure delicate face, and a soft mass of golden hair, in which was a spray of iessaminc. Only the head was finished; some fInay drapery, gathered loosely round the shoulders, was put in y.i,A q few careless touches. But it was q iife-lu,l countenancc that looked back on ttr a-4rs with ',eau -iful melancholy , eyes ,..-u <, faint sm'.e.
 II have not tiattcred her in the least" remarked Steward, and then, without further comment, he carried the picture out of the light, and put it gently down ill the corner once more. Only this time the face was not turned towards the wall
 'Ilcy went downstairs and parted ...>.vll;,t gravely in the hall. '.>.r saturday afternoon" the chap 4.-.lr b.. .-. 'I wiIl bring Miss Winfield"
 iic vnt out into the London night, and Seward returned to the f1reside and meditated, until the warmth and quictness drew him away into dream land. In sleep he saw the fair face lowering near another, whose richer, darker beauty was always in his walk iny thoughts. And it seemed to him that the golden-haired woman looked It hin with mute entreaty as if pray i4.s, tlat the brown-eyed girl might have . ..;. ,.s.e., fSte than her own. .-.. sp suddenly with two lines C. ;;n ,.... .ong ringing in his ears, and 1 and thyH h. remembered that the man 1 who wrote that song was resting some where under the green grass of the old savoy churchyard. He went up to his | room with firm step and a resolute heart, singing George Wither's we'll 1 ki.oWn words in an undertone:
 love me, this believe,
 ..ls ere sle should gricve."
 iylstone had gone regularly t.,t..., Il on Sundays for years. He 1 lvluus '.. , the crowd of deep thinkers Aud ra.sly@t brain-workers who gath cred round NIr. Sidney, and found rest and rcfryshmcnt in his teaching. There WAS ;l freshness and quietness in the ] chaplain's sermons; his voice guided his 1 hearers to the green pastures and still waters of life, and Seaward, who was l u'l r& ,lr toilcr, spending himself on his
 
 ,U:..
 Nnr day he saw Olive among the con- !rlrutiOu and followed her, as we have seen, to her own door. Other Sundays came, and he saw her again and again, and he longed to speak to her and know her. And then he opened his mind to the chaplain.
 MT. Sidney already knew something of Samuel Wake, and had gone to the l booksellers house and talked to Olive in her own home. It did not surprise him that ScaWard had fallen in love with this girls face, for the face had a soul shining through it, and Seaward was not the man to finger over a lamp without 2 flame. Nor did it surprise him that the painter should frankly ask for his help in the matter. He was ac- customcd, as we know, to give counsel to the pcrplexcd, and aid to those who could get assistance from no other quarter. Moreover, he knew that a mau's fancy" whether bred
 Tn tho heart or in the head"
 may develop into one of those deep loves which are the blessing or the the cur-' of life.
 Evcry love affair is mystery, and those who bring two persons together do not know whether they strike the first note of dirge or Te Deum,
 CHAPTER XV
 TIT IS LUCY"
 It was a red-letter day with Olive when Mir. Sidney took her to the paint cr'C ctuJin