Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1894-05-22

the strength or a double passion. can
dimly remember that at that time both
of them were rather different in their
looks from what they seemed in later
years. Mr.. Dye has changed greatly.
He used to be very we'll dressed and
careful of his appearance. That was be-
fore he took so greatly to drink. Now
he seems to have no care. My mother
was pale, slight and sad She wept so
much when first recollect her that her
eyes were always red. Her husband made
her very unhappy. He never used vio-
lence toward either of us. He rather
seemed to pity US, but there is an I'M
kindness that is quite as deep as the I'M
kindness of hard words and blows. He
was a silent and moody man and was
very little in the house.
"Inoticed as soon as I was old enough
to notice at all that he did not like to
have me even look at him. sometimes
caught him watching me furtively, but
as soon as he saw that I knew it he
would turn away quickly. If it was not
so absurd, should have believed he was
afraid of me. And SO my mother was a
broken hearted woman. But the less she
had in common with her husband the
more she devoted herself to me. She Of
ten told me that she lived only for me,
and when 1 think how feeble she was
and what a struggle existence was to
her I cannot help believing she told the
truth. She taught me all know. She
saved her pennies and went without
clothes to buy me books In the long
days and evenings when we We're en-
tirely alone we read and studied to-
gether. We had to devise places to hide
our literary treasures, for whenever he
found book he sold it and kept the
money. More than once our entire little
library, obtained at SO much cost and
pains, was missed by us in the morning.
81 should not have been unhappy but
for the little knowledge Of the world
and its ways that my reading gave to
me- 1t made me feel the degradation of
my position. All the time my mother
was becoming paler and feebler every
day. Finally she took to her bed. II
attended her."
1t was with difficulty that Annette
controlled herself sufficiently to go on
But her resolution conquered her natural
emotion. She was even able to speak in
calm voice.
Before she died she told me that I
was not her child. 1t was a secret she
could not carry away with her. She had
often and often begged her husband to
tell her who I was, but he never would
One night when I was not 2 years old
Mr.. Dye had placed me in her arms, and
in hurried and agitated manner had
told her that 1 was to be their child
thenceforth, and that we three were to
begin travelling about the country the
very next day. Before that time he had
been very good to her, but somehow my
coming estranged them. The gulf that
began then has been widening between
them ever since He had loved her once,
she said, and there she was breathing
out her last breath in my arms, while
he was away with degraded men,, care
less what became Of her He had at last
frightened her by declaring that if she
ever told anybody I was not their child
it would bring him to the gallows. Then
she believed that the secret must be ter
rible indeed, and for years she had not
dared to question him again.
&C I was too weak, she said, TO make
any resistance then, but when you grew
to be quite a girl and realized the great
responsibility upon me to bring you up
as 1 ought i'll the sight of God and man
I often Oh my knees begged and be-
sought him to restore you to your par
ents, or at least tell me who you were
He only answered 81 do not know Oh,
but he was good to me once! If he comes
no-v before [ die and sees me, perhaps
the sight of me lying so feeble here-for
it is the same face, Annette, the same
face, though changed, that he used to
kiss so fondly in the old days-perhaps
the sight may touch his heart, and he
will tell us, if ask him, everything.
So, Annette I must not die yet. I feel
strange. Arrange my pillows that may
sit up. can hear better then, and the
first sound Of his footsteps on the stairs
will drag me back from the very arms
of death.
cit was night, and everything ill the
house was still I cried so 1 could hard
ly see 1 lifted her up as she wished,
and there she died, with her head
turned, listening for the step ON the
stair. When he came, he found us both
on the bod. Alas, mine was
an Inconsistencies that knew all awak-
eningl Ialmost hated him for awaking
me. Oh, how like a horrid dream it
that was only few weeks
ago!'
There were no longer tears i'll her eyes.
Those dark orbs burned with a light
that the physician did not like to see in
them.
''Let US forget all this, my dear young
lady," he said "What happened after
that?''
''After that was the little funeral, at
tended by only us two. We sat in the
carriage that followed her to the grave,
strangers, as we had been all our lives
long"
1.-THE bruten cried Miss Maxey
You wrong him., said Annette
quickly. He was not heartless. Inever
in all my life heard him speak savage
word to her And in the carriage his
grief was terrible to see. I never saw a
man weep before. 1t frightened me. I
tried to say something to console him.
He silenced me with q terrible oath,
the only time he ever spoke like that to
me. Oh, Mr.. Dye is a strange mani He
seems always to be brooding over some
terrible wrong. have sometimes even
wondered whether his mind was not un-
settled. That was what made my life SO
unbearable. 1t was enough to feel the
desolation Of my mothers death, but to
have him always absent or sitting in
the same room without word, without
a look for me, that was terrible. And
still we moved about. I could not bear
to remain shut up all the time, and one
night despair gave me courage to throw
myself upon his mercy, to tell him my
unhappiness and to beg him for re-
lease thought if he could allow me to
go out to work as q servant in a family
where could earn my bread even that