Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-04-15

g Al HILL lOs 1C5Oe
 oeaSn nere might bring punIshment upon you"
 He shook his head. totally unmoved by my passion.
 tWe deal punishment, not receive it. It would not worry me in the least
 to leave you lying here upon the fioor."
 did not believe this, but did not stop to weigh the question then; was too much struck by word he had used.
 ''Deal punishment" repeated. "Are you punishing me? Is that why am here?"
 He laughed and held out his glass to mine.
 "You enjoy being sarcastic" he ob- served. "Well, it gives a spice to con- versation, own. Talk Is apt to be dull without it.''
 For reply struck the glass from his
 hand; it fell and shivered, and he looked for the moment really dis tressed.
 ''I had rather you had struck me-" he remarked, flor have an answer for an injury like that, but for broken glass" He sighed and looked doleful- " dO GlS pieces Oi1 U10 1OOr. Mortified and somewhat ashamed, I put down my own glass. ... "You should not have exasperated me-" I cried, and walked away beyond temptation to the other side of the room. His spirits had received dampener, but in a few minutes he seized upon a cigar and began smoking. As the l wreaths curled over his head he began to talk, and this time it was on sub jects totally foreign to myself and even to himself. It was good talk-that I l recognized, though hardly listened to what he said. Twas asking myself what time it had now got to be and what was | the meaning of my incarceration, till my
 brain became weary and I could scarce | ly distinguish the topic he discussed. But he kept on for all my seeming, and, | indeed, real indifference-kept on hour after hour in a monologue he endeav- \ ored to make interesting and which ! probably would have been so, if the time and occasion had been fit for ny enjoying it. As it was had no ear for his choicest phrases, his subtlest criticisms or his most philosophic dis \ quisitions. was wrapped up in self
 and my cruel disappointment, and when in a certain access of frenzy I leaped to my feet and took a look at the watch still lying on the table and saw it was four o'clock in the morning,
 I gave a bound of final despair, and. throwing myself on the floor, gave my | self up to the heavy sleep that merci- | fully came to relieve me.
 was reused by feeling touch on my
 breast. Clapping my hand to the spot where had felt the intruding hand, l
 discovered that my watch had been re- | turned to its pocket. Drawing 1t out I nrst looked at it and then cast my eyes \ quickly about the room. There was no
 one with me and the doors stood open between me and the hall. It was eight
 o'clock, as my watch had just told me. That rushed from the house and took the shortest road to the steamer, goes without saying. I could not cross the ocean with Dora, but I might yet
 see her and tell her how near came to | giving her my company on that long voyage, which would now only serve to K further the ends of my rival But when, | after torturing delays on cars and on | ferryboats and incredible efforts to pierce throng that was equally deter
 mined not to be pierced, at last
 reached the wharf, 1t was to behold her, just as I had faneied In my widest moments, leaning on a rail of the ship and listening, while she abstractedly | waved her hand to some friends below, | to the words of the man who had never looked so handsome to me or SO odious, | as at this moment of his unconscious triumph. Her father was near her and from his eager attitude and rapidly
 wandering gaze. saw that he was watching for me. At last he spied me, struggling aboard, and immediately his face lighted up in way which made
 me wish he had not thought it neces- sary to wait for my anticipated meet \ ing with his daughter.
 "Ah, Dick, you are late," he began | effusively as put foot on deck. But I waved him back and went at once to Dora.
 Forgive me, pardon me-" incohe- | rently said, as her sweet eyes rose in startled pleasure to mine. 'I would have brought you flowers. but meant | to sail with you, Dora; l tried to, but wretches, villains, prevented it and \ and"
 70, 1t does not matter" she said, and \ Ihch oluSheo, PHooaOAJ oecouso tAo ! words sounded unlkind. 'I mean-". But she could not say what she meant,
 for just then the bell rang for all visi- tors to leave, and her father came for ward, and, evidently thinking all was
 right between us, smiled benignantly
 in her face, gave her kiss and me a
 wink and disappeared in the crowd
 that was now rapidly going ashore. felt that must follow, but gave her one look and one squeeze of the,
 hand. and then as I saw her glances
 wander to his face, groaned in spirit, stamlnered some words of choking
 sorrow and was gone, before her em- barrassment would let her speak
 words which I knew would only add to
 my grief and make this nasty parting ' uncomfortable.