Waterbury evening Democrat., 1892-05-03
THORNS and ROSES.
BY rHos. P. n1oxrFoRD.
yrisht by A.N.Ksllogg Newspaper 0

that had not been more demonstra- tive, after the words were spoken, but I did not regret long. Mary's deport- ment was such as to freeze up in I1 heart any tender affection might hayr cherished. She took no notice of my extended hand, but with a stiff bow re- piled:
 1T am glad to see you, Agnes, in this home, and hope for your own sake, as we'll as ours, you will remain here and by good conduct try to atone for the past"
 What do you mean?" I demanded, with rising anger, sure that l under stood the purport of her language.
 II only mean," she replied, that ] hope you will not bring further disgrace to our family by repeating your be- havior of two years ago with that man Bernard. You know what refer to, of course"
 A flash of hot resentment swept over me, and l came near giving vent to some wrathful expressions; but I curbed my temper in time, and when spoke it was moro in sorrow than anger.
 "Yes," said, "I know sto what you refer. I have suffered enough from that mans prosecutions not to forget them soon. have experienced enough misery as a result of his islanders to inn press them indelibly'on my mind. But, Mary, have done nothing to disgrace myself or anyone else, so you can rest easy on that point"
 She made no reply, (but stood looking fxedly at the ground. waited a mo- ment, then went on.
 'Mary," I asked, 'do you believe those reports against my character?'
 q don't know, I'm sure," she replied, with freezing coldness. Ut may not have been so bad as we heard it was, but you remember the old saying about where there Is so much smoke there must be some fre.' There was evident ly some basis for those rumors."
 "There was, Nary" answered. ''There was a basis of malicious false hood"
 q should be glad to think so, Agnes" |"
 "Then you do not think SOP"
 "I am afraid do not. You see your mothers cousin, Mrs. Bernard, wrote to papa about it, and she was quite pos tive in her statements relative to an undue intimacy existing between you I and her husband. It worried papa un- til he was sick, and he said for his sake you ought to lead a respectable life, if you cared nothing for yourself"
 "For his sake?" I repeated. "Why for his sake, wonder2 What has he ever done to make his sake a consider | ation with me? What has he ever done," continued, growing more ve- hement as memories crowded up, ito make me respectable? Has he trained me up in kindness and love? Has he sheltered me from the cold world and protected me, as 0 father should, from the wicked deceit of such men as BernardP No. He denied me his love and drove me out into the world among strangers, ignorant and penniless. II is not to him owe any thanks for be ing what I am, and he can take nc credit to himself for the fact that am pure and stainless. He gave me every chance to go to wreck, and if had he would have no cause to feel surprised. ,
 II do not care to hear papa Fabused, she said, with an injured air.
 "Nor do not care to abuse him." replied. Sometimes, though, itis harC to suffer in silence, and then the trutl will out But enough of that. Let tho past sleep. You believe those'rTumori that were reported against my char acter?"
 ''I dislike to, but do not seq how am to help it."
 "Then, Mary, we cannot bed kfriends can forgive deep wrongs, butS that i one I cannot forgive" Without another word I turned an, walked away. Hanley had not spokel once during our short interview, and had no idea what his thoughts were for I never gave him a glance while w stood there. He followed me soon, how T ever, and coming to where had stoppe 6 in the lane, he said:
 "Agnes, do not feel grieved at wha t Mary has said. She does not know an is not so much to blame as her mother believe in you and Ilmean that sh shall"
 "No, Mir. Hanley," I replied, ''sh will never believe in me. But it doesn matter. know my heart, and Go d knows it, and while 1t is cruel to misjudged, there is a consolation in tn thought of my own rectitude. Thoug all the world forsal5es me, Godsis wit l me-"
 Il "I will not forsake you" he cried. q
 believe in you, and I am n friend, (
 will be if you will let me-" is "No, our ways lie apart, ," answered
 "You misjudged me once, and tol
 you could never forget"
 "Agnes," he said, ''you are cruel an
 memorable. offer you all I have
 give and you spurn it from you. Iwoul
 to Heaven I had more to offer" IT ''No, I do not spurn your friendship to said, "but I simply say it cannot
 mine. I must go now. Good-by."
 May not accompany you, Agnes' v he said
 l. ''No, I wish to be alone," replied, He looked after me for some tim
 evidently half inclined to give me h . company whether I wished it or not.