Bennington semi-weekly banner. (Bennington, Vt.) 1894-1902, 1895-03-22
AFTER MANY YEARS.

and almost frtendleSS. He had been &C.
counted a wealthy man. His house on
the boulevard had been a marvel of al
most barbario magnificence. But after
his death the knowledge came to his chill.
dron that the only heritage their father
left them was that of bitter poverty.
Their only relative, an uncle, because of
former enmity with his brother, refused
to aid them.
So, with childish pride, taking the
small portion remaining to them, they
went into the world alone But slowly
their slender purse grew lighter and light
er and would have totally tHlapsed were
it not that Max Marsden came forward
with kindly offers of assistance He was
only struggling, unsuccessful journal
list, but he W Nan old friend of the fami-
ly, and they looked up to him and trusted
him accordingly.
Many the little comfort which found
it's way from his hands to this upper story
room. Cora got work painting porcelain
for city house. Often after offering to
deliver it she would cry out in surprise at
the ample pay her friend brought back
They had a customer who was willing
to pay good price for suitable work,
Max would answer gravely.
That night they went to the opera, and
on the way home Cora exclaimed:
II did not know how dearly loved
| Verdi l shall never hear bar of his
music without recalling my first opera,
Max-without remembering you"
You will not forget meS l am glad Of
| that am going to test your promise
sooner than you think, dear l am going
away tonight"
Going awayH
The young voice was sharp with a
quick, constrained pain new to it.
Yes. l have obtained on trial the po-
sition went to New York to procure. l.
sail for England on Tuesday And now
here is piece of good news to countoract
the other. l went to see your uncle today
and had long talk with him. He is not
such grim, hard man as they say. He
is very lonely, old and childish. He prom
ises all luxury, all Kindness if you will
both go to him and be as his own chill
dren. Seeing him as 1 do with unpreju-
diced eyes, l think he regrets his past
heartless conduct"
But, Max"-
"My child, l know all you would say,
but Cedric is not strong enough to work,
and l cannot go away leaving you SO lone
ly and helpless. Besides it is not wholly
dependence. In his hands is some money
of his fathers on which you have morally
a claim. Believe me, it is for the best"
He went into the house and shook hands
with Cedric. Then he stopped to Cora
and reverently touched her forehead with
bearded lips. A moment more, and the
great shabby figure had burst out of tho
room and was striding rapidly away I'M
der the blue, star studded sky.
She stood and watched him out of sight
with eyes growing strangely dim Once
he paused and looked backward. She was
still standing there, slim, dark figure
against that patch of light.
"Oh, my love, God bless you'll ho wills.
pered TREMENDOUSLY.
Five years later Tho curtain at the
Grand Opera House in Paris rose on as
fine an audience as had ever assembled
within its walls. In one of the boxes on
the grand tier sat three gentlemen. One,
a tall, bronzed, soldicrly man, noticing
many glasses being leveed at an opposite
box, lifted his lorgnette and looked across
the stage.
had just entered. She wore some soft,
silken dress, all aquamarine and silver.
There were water lilies in the golden hair
and emeralds on the white neck. A child
ish face, for all its pride, and that peculiar
poise of the head; a face with luminous
blue eyes, snowy, stately throat and
checks just dashed with roses.
"Who is she?" Max Marsden questioned
breathlessly.
ma foir cried a vivacious little French
man. ''You do not know She is a COM
patriot of yours-la belle Americaine Her
name is Lester-Mlle. Lester"
"Ah!' And then, after pause, "Who |
is that gentleman leaning over her chair" ,
"Ah that is Savagneau," answered
member of the American legation, the
Comte de Savagneau. He is heir to half
dozen princely estates and is mademoi-
selle's devoted slave But she will have
none of him. She is a beauty and an heir
ess, and half Paris is mad about her, but
one might as well adore statue. No
marble is colder than She"
Max Marsden the celebrated journalist
the literary lion of the day, looked with
keen eyes across to that dainty vision with
water lilies in her hair.
During the last act she arose and gath
cred her rich wrap around her.
Half an hour later Max Marsden stood
In her hotel
when Mile. Lester arrives, say that an
old friend Graves a moments audience"
Mademoiselle trailing her sheeny silks
and laces along the corridor, paused in
amazement at the message Then she
bowed YEARLY and passed on to the grand
salon.
Maxi" she cried. MAXI
Her face was TRANSPORTED. She held out
both hands in her old frank, fearless way.
He caught them tightly in his own. All
lis soul was in his eyes as he looked on
he lovely lifted face. Just one glance, and
yer brow and cheek and white throat
famed rich color.
Cora" still holding her little hands in
lis own and speaking hoarsely, tonight
las recalled the other night-when 1 left
'ou for your own sake-because 1 dared
lot stay. Perhaps the music has made me
mad, for l am daring, oh, my love, to
ring you now the tribute could not offer
we years agop'
For one moment she was silent Then
he lifted those truthful eyes of hers
Max, l think that night my soul
woke, for since then'-ah, me, the wom-
My shyness that crimsoned her checklist
for since then have been waitingl" ,,
-Waverly Magazine