Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1894-05-26
CHAPTER XIII.
COPYRIGHT By AMERICAN PRESS AssociAT
AFFAIRS OF THE HEART.

| AS WIN pretty Ellen maAey, SO WlGh
the others. The end seemed to have been
reached.
When Mr.. Dye stal1ed out of the art
lists rooms and the shiny surface of his
woebegone coat had vanished from Max
ey's sight, it seemed as if every ray OF
light that tended to illuminate the dou-
BILE mystery, to solve which Maxey had
stopped to a subte-fuge, had vanished
too.
Here at last the good artist and the
other acute Investigators reached dead
wall. Here every thread was broken.
Here TO all appearances the matter came
to hopeless termination. The several
actors in the drama settled down to the
more ordinary happenings of daily life.
New matters, quite as absorbing, how
ever removed from the terrible, claimed
their attention. The more vivid sensa-
tons of today gradually obscured the
less vivid sensations of yesterday. They
did not forget but they ceased to talk
about the fateful night on the sea road
and all that grew out of it.
Lamar was unhappy. He was fire.
| quent visitor at the artists rooms even
now, when there was no longer any need
| Vi Ills InOlSSS1UIldl SCIN1CCS. lit SCCulSO
to come there in his leisure moments as
refuge from himself He was the most
cheerful and witty of society, but the
smile died on his lips when he crossed
the threshold ON his way out 1t was as
II q shadow fell upon him everywhere
but here, as if the sun shOne in only at
the windows above the river, and all the
rest of the world were dark.
Did Lamar know why this was? In a
vague way perhaps, but he surely did
not acknowledge it to himself and still
preserve his relations with the Widow
| Forsythe and still come here. No; Lamar
| was not man of that stamp. The day
he really found himself out, that day
would his visits cease.
As for the poor girl without name,
she gradually became natural and nee
cssarv part of the artists home circle.
The time came when the face wore cv-
cry day smile, and somehow that smile
opened a world of light and beauty in
the place. In her art lessons she was
making wonderful progress. The day
| that the knock at the outer door had
| startled teacher and pupil into a con-
sciousness of how very close to each 9th
er their heads had come was scarcely
| the first and it was certainly not the
| last ON which the phenomenon occurred.
Such n very apt pupil was the girl with
| ont n name, so devoted to ant, so very
| earnest a teacher was Julian Maxey, SO
| delighted with her achievements, that
| these little episodes were scarcely to be
| wondered at. But, however much the
| familiarity of daily association might
| bring these two together, there was still
| a barrier to a mutual understanding, for
| poor Miss Dye remained at heart the
same shy, timid creature that she had
| appeared at first. She became easy and
natural and smiled because her sur
roundings were bright and she was
| young, but there were native delicacy
| and scnsitiveness that betrayed them
| selves through all.
Neither was she wholly happy. When
| she thought herself alone, there We're
| times when she sat with her head upon
her hand, looking out over the lonesome
river TO the hills that made the back
| ground and when she was sitting thus
| if she smiled at all it was through her
tears. There was one thing that trou
| blcd her much 1t was the sense of de-
pendence and obligation. She could not
| feel satisfied to share in prosperity to
which she did not materially contribute.
| 1t was this that held her to an untiring
attention and studiousness in her new
occupation. She hoped to earn liveli-
hood with her pencil, and the enthusi-
astic Maxey, who partly realized what
her feelings were, encouraged her in
| that hope. 1t is easy to make progress in
a work one loves Before she had been
under his tuition a month Maxey told
DR.. Lamar that her copies in crayon and
charcoal We're something marvellous for
one whose instruction had been SO limit
! ed. Maxey undertook to paint her face,
and she rctaliated by making pencil
sketch of his features which was Won
derfully accurate. And so the days were
spent.
One morning Maxey awoke to real
izing sense of his situation. He loved.
And why not? Was she not beautiful,
intelligent, refined, virtuous? Was she
not N verify woman of all women,
such as a man might be proud to be able
to introduce to his friends as my wife?'
Was she any the less adorable because
nobody knew the name of her father?
Was the fact that she was nameless a
barrier of feathers weight? Not to a
man like Maxey.
But yet he hesitated. With all his
impetuosity and impotence he was ac-
customed to count the cost of momen-
tous step before he took it, and the al
ternatives presented to him were pain
full He had learned something of An
nette's character. To place himself in
the position of sutton from any reason
unacceptable to her was equivalent to
driving friendless girl from the only
homo she had ever known. Not to place
himself in the position of a sutton was
never to know his own fate. When a
young man is burning with the intoxi-
cation of a first great passion, this last
is not possible.
So Maxey thought he would wait,
and wait he did until he was brought
to a sudden resolution In the matter in
an unlocked for and extraordinary way.
One afternoon when the artist was
alone with his sister Ellen she intro
duced grave topic. Nevertheless she
tried to make her remark seem a casual
one.
Julian, do you know how DR.. La
mar came to be engaged?"
Maxey looked at her with apprehen-
sion He hesitated little before he
made his reply.
mot from his own lips, Ellen. I nm
derstand in general way that it is q
family affair. OF course you know that.
The Widow Forsythe is very rich. She
is understood to be very much in love
with Lamar, and his mother, who is
very anxious for her sons advancement,
has set her heart upon it. Exactly how
it came about no one knows We know
that Eustace was at Newport with her
last summer, and that the pledges were