Waterbury Democrat., 1901-08-19
THE minister was pacing monoto-

THE minister was pacing monoto-
 nousIy up and down the church study, intent upon the thinking out" of his sermon for Sunday. He jotted down his last idea with patient sigh before answering the timid rap at the door. A single glance assured him that his expectation of finding wom- an. and a woman in sore trouble, standing before it was we'll founded. ''I thought you might help me- the woman, who was young, pale and re- fined-looking, burst forth, in deep agi- tation, as he drew forward chair. T must have help from somewhere"
 ssYou shall have it," the minister as- sured her, his face brave with sym pathy. "But first, you know, you must tell me your trouble. Get the worst over at once," he added, encourage ingly.
 Then the story came rushingly- with the swift, resistless, on-bearing haste following long months of re- press:on.
 ''I was married, at IS, to a man much older than myself. didn't love him. I loved another man, and very dearly. But we were poor and my mother was i'll and helpless; there didn't seem anything else to do. The man whom loved and who loved me never knew of my marriage until he came back from the west, where he had gone to make money for our mar riage At first I think he hated me, but afterward he was sorry for my suffering. And then, when my hus- band had gone away on long busi- ness journey, he kept coming to see me, and"
 "You made bitter mistake togeth- er," finished the minister, as she stopped, helpless, unable to say an- other word.
 "Yes, yes-a bitter mistake" She caught at the words eagerly, her face hidden in her trembling fingers. "And, after little, I grew to hate him. And then-and then he died"
 "Yes; and after?"
 The kindly but commanding voice nerved her to further narration.
 "After he was dead I was sorry. I put flowers on his grave this morning. when I put some on my mothers grave also. But I still hate him-I hate even his memory. He was so small and mean, so cruel, once I was in his power"
 "And your husband" ?"
 "He was so kind, so loving, so tender, so considerate that grew to love him as passionateiy as had hated the oth- CT. My mother died before he came back from his journey, so he never heard or knew of my wrongdoing; he thought it was natural grief and sor- row which made me so strange and sad. Last month he came near to death also, and learned how much and how dearly love him. And since then"
 Again she stopped. helpless. Again the minister came to her assistance.
 ''And since then you are wondering whether or no you ought to confess your infidehty to him?"
 "Yes, oh, yes," she made excited an- swer. "I didn't mind so much as long as didn't know how much I loved him. But now-it seems like sacrilege to let him think me good and faithful. And yet-I know he has never suspected, and he told me the other day that he'd rather die by slow torture than lose his faith in anyone he loved. And know he's never had any real love or happiness before, and he's been such a good man always. So that, alto gether-"
 'We must think a little-and pray over it," said the minister, rising tc pace the floor monotonously again. Only the sound of her passionate sob bing broke the silence until he came back to her side.
 ssNo," he said, decidedly, ''you must never tell your husband. He is happy in the belief Of your faithfulness: there is no reason why he should sui fer for your shining.
 "You are anxious to atone for the sin, are you not? Yes, was sure of it. And you feel that your conscience would be easier if you made a clean breast of it? Well, then, deny your self that relief for the sake of your husband Make atonement to him by saving him from the knowledge and consequent suffering of your wrong doing. Love him with all the strength of your nature, and glory and revel in the love he gives you. In Gods great mercy there is forgiveness for all re- pentant sinners. Strive you after for getfulness as we'll. Let the past slip out of your memory altogether-ex cept in so far as it makes you vesy tender toward other sinners-and, if recollection does torment you oeca- sionally, let it be a part of your atone ment that you bear the suffering in silence and unaided. Never think of relieving your own conscience at the expense of your Husbands happiness" ]"
 When the visitor, all tinfid smiles and hghtened heart. had slipped out of the study the minister stood looking ont of the window for a moment. He turned away abruptly to answer an- other summons to the study door,
 It was man, this time, who stepped nervopsly through it, a man of middle age and evidently laboring under stfess of great excitement.
 "Ihe woman who has just eft xou." l"