Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-05-06

6
 MY FATHER MET ME AT THE GATE. IorCs were all Tn vain. She wanJeo no forgiveness and no love from me, and, though exerted myself as far as possi- ble to brighten her few remaining days, she showed no appreciation of it, and at last died as she had lived, unfor- giving and unforgiven. For two days before she died never went near her, my presence having such a disturbing effect on her that for hours afterward she shook like one with Q chill. Hers was sad death, her life going out in darkness and deep regrets, with no fond memories to cheer her.
 It was several days before l could ar- proach my sister, she was so cold and reticent. I learned from my father that her married life had not been hap py, and that after ten years of strife she and Hanley had separated, he going west to the mountains and she coming back to her parents. The separation was not final, my father hoped, but there was no telling how long it might last, since Hanley had become extreme ly uncertain in his habits and it was evident that he had no love for his wife.
 I learned that Mary was cross and ex- acting with her husband, and that after five or six years of married life he had taken to drinking steadily, running through with all his property, and at last leaving her in a fit of disgust. So long as my father had money Mary had called on him for help, and he had given so freely that in time he seriously embarrassed himself, and was, as last resort, forced to place his home under mortgage.
 year. ed to comfort my sister, but, re- membering what she had said about never wanting my love or sympathy, was chary of approaching her. But at last had an opportunity to speak, and disregarding what the result might be, I availed myself of it, and opened my heart to her as a sister should, speaking to her tenderly, soothingly and sympa- | thetically, but'not as one having right to advise. l avoided all semblance of | condescension or superior virtue, and talked as one erring creature might talk to another.
 After awhile my words had effec' with her, and the flush of resentment | that first marked her face faded out and tears followed. At last she became so far rcconciled that she leaned hcl head on my shoulder and allowed ne tc | place my arm about her.
 Agnes" she said, when we hat talked long time, q don't descrv, such kindness from you. I said once you remember, that I never would want your love or sympathy. wal Il. I I l-sIl A. what was before us."
 'We all do and say things" replied "that we are sorry for afterwards; but we should learn to forget them.''
 "You can afford to be generous anc forgiving, Agnes," she answered, "be cause you are good. It is not so witl me. I have been selfish and mean and when was prosperous disdainet you. You ought to despise me and re joice to see me brought down to wha am.''
 ''I would do myself no credit and ad' nothing to my own happiness, Mary, i I cxulted over you now. I was poo once and friendless, and know what i is to be so; and for that reason cal sympathize. Let the past be buried Mary, and let us begin a new life as ia
  CT of us has done or said aught that wa wrong and injured the other, let it b forgiven and forgotten"
 FI would to Heaven, Agnes, that could be so, but fear it cannot. Yo1 do not recall all have said to you, hoy I misiudged you and impeached you virtue. That, Agnes, was the crueles thing of all, because knew it was no true"
 had not till that moment recalle what she had said of my virtue, and tn remembrance of her words for an ir stant checked my love and sent a pan of resentment to my breast. But le it pass directly, and looking down int her eyes said:
 That was the cruelest wrong yo ever did me, Mary, but I forgive il Let it go with the rest of the past an' be forgotten. You regret it now,
 know"
 q do, do. regret it sincerely, an I would give half my life to be able t recall it.''
 Mary felt better after our conference and appeared much happier. She need ed sympathy and love, for she had lon been denied them. I promised tha | | CnarleS ana would oo everything w could to reclaim Hanley and bring hir back to her, a promise we kept wit such good result that in time he returned He and Mary settled down in
 small town where Charles secured pt sition for Will, and, though cannot sa they are happy, they are better COT tented and more prosperous than the had been before.
 Soon after my stepmother's deat my father was compelled to giv up his home, the last of all his pose sions. He was adrift in the world, ju: as had been years before when WE driven from the same sheltering roo : but there was difference, for while D :, heart beat in sympathy for me, or