Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-01-07

 ing on the summits of the everlasting hills; a man standing on the bank of dark river and looking across to the other side, where a woman walked in solemn light.
 While she gazed the painter talked to her, explaining this and that, we'll pleased when she gained confidence enough to ask questions. Mir. Sidney stood a little apart and chattcd with Adeline, while Claud Villiers, standing near his cousin, hardly spoke at all. Seaward had led his visitor to the far end of the studio, and Adeline, near the fire, was still talking to the chaplain, when a faint cry from Olive startled them all.
 ''It is Lucy!" they heard her say "You could not have painted this if you had not known her. It is Lucy l Cromer!'
 With one impulse they moved to the spot where she was standing, and the chaplain saw that her gaze was fixed on that study of head which Seaward had shown him two or three days ago. Her face had grown pale with intense feeling; her clear eyes were slowly fill ing with tears.
 ''It is like, oh, so lil1er she said Tt has brought her back to me, and she was my dearest friend. Only while she lived her face was sadder than this She did not look perfectly happy till she was dead"
 "DeadY' the word came from Claud Villiers.
 They all turned and looked at him. He stood grasping the back of a chair and gazing at Olive with an expression that almost terrified her, it was so full of hopeless misery.
 "Where did she die?" he asked, bring ing out his words in a strange, hoarse voice. "How long ago?'
 "At Eastmeon, a little village in Hampshire, just after harvest last year,
 This was Olives answer, spoken in tremulous tone. Her eyes seemed to be questioning Claud; an instinct told her that he had been the cause of that mysterious grief which had shortened Lucy's life.
 As in a vision she saw once more the little room, filled with the glow of an autumN sunset, and the jessamine flow CTS. Once more she beheld the light on Lucy's face, and heard the dying voice speaking of forgiveness.
 Forgive, if you would find peace" it said. "Forgive if you would have your wounds healed, and feel the soft touch of Christ's finger on your sore heart"
 And then, as if that voice were prompting her, she spoke quite calmly, with her steadfast gaze still fixed on Claud Villiers.
 ''Lucy had suffered great wrongs. She did not tell me what they were, but at the last she forgave them all. She was very happy when she died. never saw anyone who enjoyed such perfect peace"
 The unhappy man who had listened to these words turned suddenly away. Olive had smitten him as Nathan smote David. For a few seconds there was silence; then the door opened and shut. and they knew that Claud was gone.
 "What does this mean, Seaward?" Adeline Villiers asked. Her face was naughty; her tone cool and composed. She was fronting Aylstone and looking at him with gray eyes that seemed to read his very heart.
 A flush mounted to his bronzed fore head, and he glanced away, ashamed to meet her searching gaze. It was the chaplain who answered the difficult question; and his voice, gentle and quiet as ever, soothed the perturbed spirits near him.
 Miss Villiers, you have now learned a thing that ought to have been told you long ago. Dc not be hard on Sea ward; he wanted you to know every thing, but Claud refused to speak; Mrs. Villiers insisted on his silence. Lucy CrOmer, once your grandmother's com panion, was Clauds promised wife"
 And he threw her over," said Ade. line, coolly, 'because he was afraid o1 grandmother. He preferred to break his heart (such as it isD rather than lose an old woman's money. MT. Syd ney I thank you sincerely for bringing Miss Winfield here to-day"
 'I did not know that her coming would lead to this disclosure" he re piled. But I am glad that you know the truth. Only I wish that it had not been revealed in such a sudden way
 ''I am sorry,' said Olive, softly. "It , was so startling to find her face here. 5 And I never knew Lucys story; she die not blame anyone. She forgave all" ; "The dying saint might forgive, but the living sinner cannot" Adeline spoke in her old-spirited fashion. Don't bs sorry, Miss Winfield; you have done me a very great kindness. You shall heal } now that have been tricked into an en gagement with my cousin Claud-thC 7 man who has just gone out of the room When he was absent, and sad, and Ian guid-as he often was-I set it down tc } weak health, and not to guilty con 3 science. My grandmother always hat B a store of excellent excuses ready; ant r | even Seaward-"
 r Steward craves your mercy, Ad ! cline" Alystone said, humbly. ] 'T was blinded" she went on. ''' B thought, as people generally do think l, that it would all come right by and by for him and for me. As if anything