Waterbury Democrat., 1901-05-04

Sy MPLoIu so unuSuAi tiiaL it cOul
 only mean that she contemplate. coming back and was giving warning Time was priceless, yet here h, stood trembling, irresolute. Woult nothing help him?
 You speak of rny--engagement, he blnndered blinded on. T wis, you'd tell me--about yours"
 Mine? Oh-with the Red Cross you mean?" And shame be to you Maidie Ray. you knew--you wei knew--hs didn't.
 "I mean--to MT. Foster. Mrs Brent has just told me-
 Mrs. Brent!" interpoSed Miss Ra, in futter of amaze. That carriage is coming nearer every instant driving like mad, Brent on the back seat and whip-lashing demon or the box. There will be no time fol iove-tales once that burly warrior re parrying, holding him at bay, for his heart is bubbling over with the tor. rent of it's love and yearning and pleading.
 What are bullet-wounds and brevets to this one supreme, sublime encoun ter? His heart was high, his voice rang clear and exultant, his eynx flashed joy and fire and defiance In the face of thousand deaths two weeks ago. But here in the pres ence of a slender girl he can do naught but falter and stammer and tremble.
 Crack, crack, spatter, chatter, and crash comes the little carriage and team whirling into the San Luis. He hears 1t now. He knows what it means to him-Brent back and the pent-up words still unspoken! It nerves him to the test, it spurs him to the leap, it drives the blood bound ing through his veins, it sends him darting round the table to her side, penning her, as it were, between him and the big bamboo chair. And now her heart too Is all in Q fiutter, for the outer works are carried in his impetuous dash, the assailant is at the very citadel.
 "Marion!" he cried, "tell me, was there-tell me there was no engage nfent! Tell me there is little hope for me! Oh, you are blind if you Go not see, if you have not seen all along, that I've loved you ever since the first day ever saw you. Tell me-quicki"
 Too late. Up comes Brent on the run, and Marion springs past the would-be detaining arm. "Where's Mrs. B-?" pants the warrior. "Hully, Stuyvie? was afraid you'd got the news and gone out in cab. M'ria, want my belt and pistol!"
 Where you going?" bursts in the lady of the house-the spoons for gotten.
 ''Out to San Pedroi It's only three miles. Our fellows are going to driys 'em out of Guada1oupe woods. Ready, Stuy? Of course you want to see it, Drive'll do you good, too, Come on."
 Indeed, you don't stir step, Col. Brent!--not stepl What business have you going into action? You did enough fighting 40 years ago"
 Brent. deaf to her approximation, is rushing to the steps, buckling his belt on the run, but 'M'ria" grabs the slack of the khaki coat and holds him. Stuyvesant springs for his hat. It has vanished. Marion, her hands behind her, her lips parted, her heart pounding hard, has darted to the broad door to the salon, and there, leaning against the framing, she con- fronts him.
 At the rear of the salon Thisbe has grappled Pyramus and is being pulled to the head of the stairs; at the head, Beatrice, with undaunted front, con- cealing a sinking heart, defies Benc- dick.
 My hat, please" he demands, his eyes lighting with hope and promise of victory.
 sYou have no right" she begins. "You are still patient" But now, with bowed head, she is struggling, for he has come close to her, so close that his heart and hers might a1- most meet in their wild leaping, so close that in audacious search for the headgear his hands are reaching down behind the shrinking, slender little form, and his long, sinewy arms almost encircling her. The war of words at the back stairs "now trebly laundering swelled the gale" but it is not heard here at the front.
 His hands have grasped her wrists now His blond head is bowed down over hers, so that his lips hover close to the part of the dusky hair. My hat, Maidie," he cries, tor T'll-I'll take what I want!" Both hands tugging terrifcally at those slender wrists now, and yet not gaining an inch. Do you hear? I'll-Ill take"
 "You shan't!" gasps Miss Ray, burying her glowing face in the breast of that happy khaki, and thereby tacit1y admitting that she knows just what he wants so much more than that hat.
 And then the long, white hands re- lease their hold of the slim, white wrists; the muscular arms twinc tight about her, almost lifting her from her feet; the bonny brown head bows lower still, his mustache brush ing the soft, damask-lilSe cheek. "f must go, Maidie--darling! he whis- pers, without the hat if need be, but not without-this-and this-and this-and this and this"--and the last one fingers long just It the corner of