Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-09-30
SINFIRE.
By JULIAN HAWTHORNE.
ICOpyright, isaa by American Press AssoeiA-
 tion.1
CHAPTER XVII.


 my grasp.
 It is HOW three days since the scene in the courtroom. The perjury which l committed answered its purpose. After considerable discussion Sinfire was ac- quilted, and Henry's murderer still re mains unknown. Even Sintire's strong nerves were overthrown by the shock of Johns terrible death, and whether or not she had previously intended to chal- lenge my testimony she let the time pass by when she could have done so with effect. Since then she has remain ed at Faxon's house, where his wife waits upon her. But today shall speak with her and learn her mind. What 1 each other well. But one morning tho elder took the younger to her room and thr her arms around her neck and kissed her, and then she showed her some papers she had found, which re- vealed all the secret. You are my sis ter she said. my darling sister, and whatever any one may say or do you Ee my equal, and whatever l have is Sours. No one shall be unjust to you while l live. and whoever is your enemy Is mine too. You shall have no shame that I will not share, and will accept no honor that is not gwen to you as we'll" After that do you need to be told that l loved my sister better than ever better than myself"
 Of course l had perceived from the first that the story she was telling was her own story. Nevertheless the pas sionate emphasis she gave to the last sentence startled me. Up to that time she had spoken with curious imagina- tive lansuor as if she were following in fancy the thread of a complication in which she felt no vital concern. but this demeanor vanished in a moment. She sat erect and threw her very life into the words And then, too, foreglimpse of what was to come flashed upon me, and felt rather than saw tho fatal error l had made
 At last some one came to court her an elderly and reserved man, but wealthy, and she obeyed her father and married him. She would have taken me to live with her, but l was needed at home. Her father had begun to realize that he was mine, too, and to value me She wrote me many letters. Her hus- bands affairs kept him much away from her. Then for time-for some months she did not write. knew there was mischief on foot. and when at last her letter came l said nothing to any one, but left home that night and was with her the next day.
 ''She was alonc-husband and lover both had abandoned her. She told me what her life had been. There were two chapters ill it-first she had been sold for money; then she had been betrayed for love- She told me all It will never be told again. God knows it, and that Is enough, for he only can understand and forgive-and punish. l comforted her as much as a broken heart can be com forted. and another thing that gaVe her happiness was that she was i'll and knew she would not recover We were sisters together again, and We used to laugh and chat sometimes as we did when we were children. When there Is no hope, peace comes again. At other times she told me about her love. Oh. my sister! my darling sister,
 She hid her face upon tEe cushion of the couch-where that dead body had lain q week before-aud wept like a summer storm.
 Her tears ceased as abruptly as they had come, and she sat erect again. con- posed and stern, and spoke rapidly and coldly.
 At the end she gave me the ring and asked me, if ever met him, to return it to him and give him message. It was q loving message; there was no repruach in it. l took the ring and promised. And l made q promise to myself also which I did not tell her of. Afterward l learned from my father that this Hen " Mainwaring was relative of ours, but perhaps he had not recognized my sister as his cousin under her married name did not tell my father that Henry was the man, for meant 10 pun ish him myself and in my own way. You know the rest-how much l sue ceeded and how much failed"
 She rose to her feet at this point, and 1 rose also. thought she was going to leave me, but instead she came a step nearer and laid one hand upon my shoul- der The expression uf her face was sad.
 It was you that made me hesitate until it was too late. said she.
 Il? How"
 Only because you were his brother.
 It was said so quietly and sadly that a moment passed before comprehended the significance of that admission. II was no delusion-she had loved me. But there was no invitation, no consent in her eyes. Her hand, which had seemed to hold me. kept me back. It was like balancing on the partition between life and death
 Let me know what it is to be, Sin fire" said. Il fathom you less than ever. Are you angry that l misjudged you? My soul knew what my reason questioned. You could not be yourself and not be pure. Was it my perjury that offended you? In what other way could have kept you? And the sin is mine"
 What do you call it, to keep me: Would you rather died loving you oI despised you and lived:'
 Do you despise me-"
 ''Despise you! Oh, what shall say tc you?'' she cried ont in a voice of min gled menace and anguish. Why don't you speak? Why do you hide yourself from me? Was there no other way tC clear me than by staining me? Could you have told no other story of that night Oh, Frank. Frank! It was then that you lost me-not when you crept upon hin in the wood and shot him through the heart! believed then that you were ar avenger, but in the witness box you re vealed yourself as a murderer. Even il vou had been silent and let them hang me I would have rejoiced in you, fol love lives by sacrifice. As you had savet me from the guilt of blood would hav' saved you from its consequence. Or il you had taken my hand over his body anc said. I have done this for you! would have come to you forever and gone witl you to the end of the world! But yor did not trust me, and the lie you tolt ,,as q. sba,,,af,,l opd tiunorOuS lieFa