Waterbury evening Democrat., 1894-03-20

tett me 1cHuC nOu 1cInL"
 good sized river was pouring into the old Hill shaft, a quarter of mile above the present works. Do you know where all that water is going? It ain't being drunk up by the bowels of the earth, which know when they have got enough -the same not being true of some men. No, sir, it's making straight for the Ten Foot Drive and is laundering and grooming behind that wall like thou sand mad bulls. And I tell you, sir, something is going to happen there be- fore night, sure"
 Monckton arose to his feet. "The men are at work there?" he asked sharply. Certain. Twenty three, all told. "
 And you warned them of the dan ger?"
 Certain. And they knowed it them selves. But miners gets careless. They live in danger constant, and they're used to it.''
 MT. Tufner,' said the proprietor in the same sharp tone, you Will hurry back to the works and get tile men out at once. You will say that such are my orders. Lose no time. Joyce, have them saddle my horse. will go down to the mines myself
 Turner seemed incli ned to offer some additional opinions from the rich stores of his wisdom and experience, but was ignominiously bundled out of the room by the inappreciative Joyce and took his way to the village with the deliber- ate step appropriate to his years and dignity, stopping twice or thrice on the road to look in upon friend and dis cuss the s;tlAtion over philosophic pipe.
 Monckton had meantime mounted his horse and started in the same direc- tion. He had not requested the con- pany of the overseer on this occasion, but that worthy, grimly providing himself with huge revolver, mounted his own sufficiently close to keep an eye over his safety. The apparently interminable rain had now ceased. The clouds were lifting off the mountain peaks and the mists driving down the valleys before the freshening wind, while keen silver radiance, the forerunner of the coming sunlight, glittered in meadow and tree top.
 Ralph MOnckton, proceeding at an easy canter, pulled up his horse sharply. A girl, also on horseback. turned into the road few paces beyond him. He recognized hcr with sudden tightening at the heart, and at the same moment she saw him, bowed and blushed beau tifully. Monckton had not seen her eli dow nf hn J-in ot ha and it seemed to him that there was new sweetness and seriousness in her face, something more gentle and less willful in her manner.
 She spoke first. "The storm has kept me in the house so long that seized the first moment to get out" Then she looked at him anxiously. You are pale, Ralph. They told me you had en- tirely recovered.
 "Thanks," he said indifferently, II am we'll enough. But it is not for the sake of my health that I am out. !" Then he told her of Turner's visit and what the man had reported.
 But you are not going down among those men again after the way they treated you when you went there last?
 
 with slight gasp and turned pale. She checked her horse and compelled him to do the same. Why are you doing this?" she asked gravely. "Is it fool ish bravado, Ralph: Are you never go- ing to forgive me because I was cruel and conceited!"
 He answer ed her look with one of sur prise. You cruel and conceited? There was no such thought in my mind, I as sure you. I was not thinking of you when 1 started, except-e2cept as I al- ways do now-that is, 1 wish to act in everything as believe you would have me act-no,i he said quickly, perceiv- ing that she averted her face, ''do not fear that I am going to presume upon your kindness to me. That is all over now" He sighed deeply. II have seen how utterly unworthy am. l am not trying to touch your heart, 1mogene, with the hypocritical cant of repentance, which is worse than any other kind of cant. Indeed don't know whether a man can repent of being fool or not, and 1 was not much worse than that. Anyway, during the long days while l lay in bed l had an opportunity of go- | ing back over my life and examining myself impartially. We'll, he laughed bitterly, 'the results have been edify- ing, but not agreeable. There," he ex- claimed, impatiently shaking his head, that sounds like wounded vanity, but it isn't. What mean, Imogene, is just this-honestly and sincerely, I know that I am not fit to be the husband of such girl as you are. I shall never conquer my love for you, and do not wish to. It will remain with me always as my better angel and keep me from ever again falling into that old way of life which I now look back upon with | detestation. But shall never speak of it after today, and if you will let me see you sometimes as friend you need not fear the lurking suitor in me, or that I will pass as suffering martyr. Will you believe me, Imogene? Will you take me at my word?"
 Ralph" there was moisture in tn , eyes she raised to his, forgive me-" Freely and fully. But for what?"
 For my hardness and self suficiency wanted to wake you up. It was right and best for you, but could have done 1t more kindly. I spoke in spirit of pride and intolerance. Icould have led you gradually to it.
 ''No, I think not" he replied. II was too sound asleep, too besotted. It needed the shock. Don't reproach your self, Imogene, for in my heart and soul owe you nothing but gratitude.
 "And you will come to see me as be- fore, Ralph?"
 "It will not be the same man, Imo- gene, but will gladly come." Why He Was In Haste.
 "Hold on," said Brown to an acquaint-