Connecticut western news., 1895-07-18

this large family, domesticated no doubt for number of years. She called in a carpenter to take down the mirror, laughing to see the tribe scampering.
 Suddenly she uttered a cry of sur prise. Wrapped up as ill a net, invested with great mass of cobwebs, letter sealed with black fell from behind the mirror.
 The workman, no less surprised than the young lady, presented the letter to Paoletta, who took it, trembling On tho outside she read:
 gro be delivered to Signor Giorgio Doryal after my death. D
 The young wife's heart beat fast. This letter was directed to her husband. What could it contain?
 ''It must have been written long time ago." said the workman
 ''It is directed to my husband," re- sponded Paoletta. The man smiled mus ingly.
 "A letter from a woman, " he thought.
 Should she burn this letter unopened? What might it contain? Should she give it to Giorgio?
 No, no; certainly not.
 After long time she broke the seal, and this is what she read:
 My dear Giorgio, am sick and sad. The house is prison. seem to find in it something tragical, leading to re- venge and death.
 Although it is ended, completely ended, do not doubt but we shall see each other again. Is our love to endure but one season? Do you not remember your oath of eternal fidelity?
 1T have not forgotten and have re- turned to our nest. Now would like to die, surrounded by the things you care for.
 1T have re-entered this room, filled with tokens of your love. That reclin- ing chair has seated you frequently, when, returning from long excursion in the woods, came to rest my head against your knees, while you touched the brown locks which fell over my forehead. have reviewed all that year of happiness day by day and only desire to die in this house where you and have loved.
 Paoletta gave loud cry and fell to the floor. When she returned to her senses, the sun had set, the day was slowly departing, tho horizon, tinted with purple, forming luminous gar land. Nothing was changed in tho life of the world about her. There was the same azrre sky, the same strident shriek of the railway train, the hilarious shouts of the children released from school
 Was what had passed a dream, some strange fancy? No, the letter was there at her feet. It recalled her to reality. It was true-all was true And suddenly she felt within her heart an enormous weight, and upon her shoulders some thing laid almost insupportable.
 She remained for a long time motion less and silent, making thousand prof ects. Then gradually her nerves gave way and tears flowed from her eyes.
 When Giorgio returned, he found her calm, but little nervous.
 Several days passed, then Poaletta took to her bed.
 A malady which had not been able to carry her to the tomb year before re- appeared. The physician announced that all was over; she would not outlast the fall of the leaves.
 She treated Giorgio with coldness, of which she gave no explanation. He at tended her, watched over her, supplicat- ed her to tell him why she had changed, but she remained silent, and her calm ness made him almost insane. One morning she said to him, "You will return early today, will you not, Giorgio?"
 He bent over her, kissing her ten derly.
 ''Yes, my darling" he said That evening, when he returned, she was dead. She held ill Ter rigid hands a letter-the letter of Chiara. In pencil she had added these words:
 ''I am jealous of this woman, and of jealousy die. Adieu, Giorgiop'-From the Italian.