Waterbury Democrat., 1901-06-10
HNTow I hope you realize, Pen

awful It would have been!
 'sI don't know as it would have been particularly awful. You were divorced from him, anyway" But how would have felt if I had said would marry you, and then re- ceived the telegram five minutes later telling me to- get ready for my hus- bands funeral?"
 "He afn't been your husband for IA years" persisted Bennington Brush, ''and, if he had, he's dead now, any how, and they are a-bringin' him in the world they are luggin' him back to you for, after all these years, is more than I can see"
 Mrs. Brewster shivered, although the night was warm for September, and wrapped her arms in her apron. Pennington feared she was taking cold, yet still he fingered. "You don't feel-that is, you can't make it seem right-to give me an answer tonight, I suppose?"
 Indeed, cannot" she said, with curling lip. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to press such a question on woman looking for her husbands remains to come over the hill at any minute"
 "Dumb him!' muttered Brush; "he cut me out of an answer just this way Is years ago, and made miser- able man of me"
 Not just this same way, Penning- ton, Mrs. Brewster said, soberly enough; but Pennington saw a twin kle in her eye. It made him savage.
 You care so little about him you can make joke of him, yet you hold me at arms length on account of | him. I presume you will feel called upon now to go into mouring for him for a man who deserted you 14 years ago and has never shown his face since!"
 Mrs. Brewster sighed.
 q suppose I ought" she owned, then looked apprehensively up the lonely country road, where the sol emn load might now appear at any time.
 Pennington Brush turned on his heel. < !
 .If he had known that your grand mother left you her property, and lthat you came into possession last week, he'd a7conae back alive instead | of the way he is coming. He was mean enough.' Then he relented. "Rose, let me stay in my old room in the tower tonight, where I slept when your grandmother lived here alone. You will need me"
 "No; you go along to your own bed 1 in the factory. Old MT. and Mrs. Por- ter are coming. They'll be here in a minute, now, so go along"
 Well, just as you say. Good night, Rose"
 He came towards her. and awk- ward3y made a move. as though he would kiss her. She shraIk back hor- rifed.
 Bennington Brush! And he com 1 ing over the hill yonder?"
 Pennington looked quickly towards the hill, but there was nothing in sight save the hare summit and the darkening sky above. He bade her good night again and walked rapidly away towards the cheese factory, where, since Rose Brewster had taken possession of her grandmother's home, he had slept in a little room in the attic.
 l Rose watched him until he disap- 1 peared in the cheese factory door. She shuddered again and went in to take look around at the stiff rooms, doubly gloomy now. in anticipation grandmother had been a penurious old lady, and as yet Rose mad no op- portunityf to introduce the little honey touches with which woman of her disposition inevitably sur rounds herself. For Rose was a cozy little body, who had been cheated out of her birthright of love and domes- tic happiness by an unfortunate mar riage with scamp. She was 40 now, but comedy and desirable, as Penning- 1 ton Brush knew to his sorrow. l When Pennington arrived at the factory he determined to sit outside and smoke until he heard old Mr. Porter's buggy. The night was still, and he was sure he could hear it when it drove up to Roses door. How ever, as the old people were to stay l all night, they might take it into l their heads to walk across the fields instead of driving around the road. He decided they must have done so, for soon he heard the wagon bearing his old rivals body creaking over the hill from the opposite direction. He saw lights in the parlor windows and in the porch, and he knew by the sounds that Rose was receiving her l runaway husband into her home again after 14 years.
 A telegram had come the day be- fore telling her he was dead, and his last request had been that his body should be sent to her for burial. It touched her ceeply. To think that she had been upon the point of yielding to Pennington Brush's repeated plead ings the very hour. she had received the intelligence of Brewster's death and his belated remembrance of her. self.
 Presently Pennington heard the rumble of mems voices again as they came out of the house, and the wagon jolted back the way it had come. He could hear it going down the oppo- site side of the hill, until at last the | Sound died away in 4ba 5;e+opoa M,.