Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-09-22
SINFIRE.
By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
ICopyriGht, 1893, by American Press AssocIa-
 tion.l
CHAPTER VI.

chances were about 10000 to 1 that he would not The truth is I was merely trying an experiment. Various more or less vague indications-sOme of them trifics light as air-had suggested to my mind the notion that Sintire and Henry had already met perhaps in India, and that their meeting had not been without an effect upon them both. What sort of m effect: l cannot pretend to say. But taking into consideration Sinfire's beauty and Henry's incorrigible susceptibility and the power of fascination of both of them it did not seem altogether unlikely that they might have fallen desperately in love with each other.
 So far. so good; there would be no par. ticular harm done. It was the sequel that was questionable for if it were prob able that they had come together it was certain that they were together no long CT. They had separated, and the fiCkle- ness of Henry's disposition made me sur mise that Sinfre had not been the one to blame. In other words, feared that he had abandoned her. Whether his wrong had stopped there 1 had no means of knowing. I could only hope-and be lieyc in lack of proof to the contrary that he had not shown himself villain. Yet there was that in Sinfire's bearing assuming my theory to have some foun- dation-that seemed to point to an ex- pericnce much deeper and more tragic than the mere jilting of handsome girl by thoughtless fellow.
 Her misfortune. if she had been unfor- tunate at all. could have been no trivial one Her self possession, her reserve, the tA coll if of hoy expression, which. like the transparent sky, concealed within its depths all mys- teries-thesc things, and still more her abrupt and practically unexplained ap- pearance among us. impressed me as tes- timony to her being the victim but not the resigned victim of some grave injus- tice. She purposed to right herself, or if that could not he to avenge herself, and to that end had she come to Cedarcliffe.
 Such was my line of argument. And there was something more. 1 did not believe that Sinfire was the daughter of my uncle. I believed her to be of gypsy blood. How she came to know anything of my uncle'S affairs. and how she came by his letter, 1 could only conjecture, but the problem was not inSOluble. It was harder to account for her Cultiva- ton, her perfect manners and her famil- iarity with the ways of society, but great natural tact and intelligence, joined to an unfalteriug purpose. can accomplish miracles. and. moreover, there might be (and indeed must bel circumstances in her past life, of which I know nothing at present. that would partly explain it. Still there is an enigma here that don't pretend to fathum. But let uS rrCapitu- late tine situation as CCnCriveit at pres ent.
 Sintirr k a gypsy who at some time, i'll some way has been brought into re lativnS with polite society and learned is wayS Either before or after this time >lt- met my brother Henry, and they fell in love with each other. After the affair had gone certain length, be it more or less. Henry deserted her Her acquaintance with him had brought her into contact with my uncle. whom Hen " perhaps was staying with. After Henry left her she attached herself to my uncle. he being childless. or having lost his children, and a widower and won his confidence.
 At his death he left her what small property he had and gave her the letter which she brought to us, he being prompted thereto. let us say. by a knowl- edge of the wrong done her and a desire to see it righted. She came to us, ex- pecting that sooner or later Henry would return and that she would then be able to force him to come to terms-eithcr to marry her or to account to her ill some manner She would even be capable of stabhing him through the heart if il should come to that. Such was the as 1 pect of my theory at the time of our in tervicw in the laboratory.
 ] The result of that interview. so far as 1 it had any result. was to confirm me il the leading points of my theory that ] she was gypsy and that Henry was It stranger to her. 1t was not conclusive butt was certainly not contradictory Oi these hypotheses. It would involve tn, disappointment of Johns hopes aud i would complicate my own attitude to ward Sinfire. Ought I to expose her a an adventures? No For two reasons first. that it is not absolutely certain tha she is one; secondly. that even if she b all imagine she still has human right of her own, and the affair is Henry rather than mine. If it came to an opel trial, I could almost bring myself ol general principles to eSpouse her caus against Henry, my best beloved brothe though he is.
 But here is another point. She mus be aware of my suspicious of her. Vii she refuse to allude to them, or will sh speak to me openly: If she does speak trusting to my friendship for her, wha should do? I must either brutally cas- her off or become involved in her intIigu
 against the rest of the family. Ina
 would be a strange predicament for a Tt
 tiring. unaggreSsive man of science lik
 myself. and there is no telling where
 might land us. l greatly prefer to stic
 to my time honored role of onlookel
 But ii do intend to expose her it woul
 be much easier 10 do so now, before an
 irrevocable words have passed betwee
 us, than after she has thrown herself O my honor. If she surrenders me he
 sword, I cannot turn it against he
 And yet, if not against her, it must 1
 for her.
 What is the matter with me? NJ
 will as well as my judgment seems pa
 alvzed. I can adopt neither the actiy
 nor the passive course. l feel as
 changes were going on within me (
 were at hand. A few weeks ago, reco
 lect, my longing was for an awakening something to goad me out of the torpC that was benumbing me. Is it the fir
 faint prick of the goad that feel nov
 or am I about to relapse into a torpC more deathlike than before? One thiI or the other will happen, I am sure, bl
 standing here at the parting of the wa.
 I can hardly say which course incliI
 to take.
 Why should bother my head abou it? When the time comes, although shal