Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1892-03-31

only to lay away the letter In her desk
and wait silently for her lover to come
to her. Her lover-the man whose in
huence had changed the nonotonous
calm of existence into the pulsing pas
sion OF hving-the man who loved her;
whom she loved. No words were need
ed-only silence; he was so thoughtful
for her, SO anxious to spare her; only
silence, and in a little while his arms
would Unfold her; his beautiful eyes,
heavy with tenderness, gaze deep into
hers; his sweet, passionate kisses burn
upon her lips.
The radiant finger stole softly up her
dress, across her lap and made little
pool Of brightness in the heart of which
the letter lay; outside in the doveco to a
pigeon cooed sleepily to his mate.
What was that tale of long ago that
was coming strangely back to her? A
girl, one whom they all knew and loved,
had been separated from her husband
after several years of misery bravely
borne. Her husband had been a con-
frmed drunkard, and in his cups was as
one possessed of devils. They had
grieved over Clare, and when her hus-
bands brutality grew such that her
brother interfered and insisted on her
procuring divorce for the protection of
herself and her children, they had felt
that it was right; and while they de-
plored the necessity, they had sided with
Clare throughout. But when, two years
later, wedding cards had come from
Clare, from some place in the west,
whittier she had moved with her chill
dren, it had been n grievous shock, for
the drunkard still lived. 1t had seemed
a strange and monstrous thing, and their
| judgment had been severe-their CEN
sure scathing. Poor Glare! She under
stood her temptation better now. Poor
little Glare!
What was it Jim had said? The men
had been guarded in the expression of
their opinion before her; they were fas-
tidious in conversation before women.
This he had said in an undertone to
Berkeley, but she had caught it, and
caught also the scorn of the hazel eye,
and knew that the lip curled under the
brown mustache. He had said: ''To u
woman of innate purity the thing
would be impossible. There is Il coarse
ness in the situation which is revolving"
What would he think of her? She
was weighing the matter-canvassing
its possibility. Was her nature deterio.
rating? Was she growing coarser-less
pure? Would her old friend, whose
standard was 50 high, despise her?
Would she be lowered in the eyes of
those whose influence and opinions had
heretofore nodded her life? The associa-
tons of years are not uprooted and cast
aside in days or in months. Response
bilities engendered by the past environed
her, full grown, comprehensive, insist
ent-responsibilities which might be en-
gendered by the future, lay in her mind
a tiny germ in which the embryo life
had scarcely begun to stir.
The duty to the old life seemed to hel
plain and clear; beaten track along
which she might safely travel. The
duty to another life which might il
time be equally plain and clear was
now Il bewildering mist through which
strange shapes passed, like phantasma
goria. She could not think; her MIND
was benumbed; right and wrong, ap
parently, had changed places and com
mingled so that, for the time, theil
identity was confused, indistinguishable
she could not guide herself as yet; she
could only hold blindly to the old sup
ports.
The silver finger had lifted itself from
her lap and rested on her breast, form
ing shining pathway from her heart
through the open window, out into tn,
: silence and beauty of the night.