Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-03-05
By CIras TosOnsend Brady
copr1GAL 1908. Dy cuus zos0nssnd Brady
Woven With the Ship." ''Hohenzolisrn. :
 The 0uiberon Touch." Etc. ....,

w1rn every raculry, p6sEessed or every virtue, and if Peyton had none st these, she would have loved him just the same. Her passion had passed far beyond the calmly reasoning or req sonable stage. It took note only. of facts, or, rather, of the one sublime fact that she loved him. Darrow's appeal had been most powerful to the phys ioal side of her nature, and that side was growing more and more in abey ance In her developing life. If she could have seen lhim, it might have been different She might have re- alised the change In him.
 Yet she was not ignorant of XWhat he had done for and through her, how he had developed in love and war. And she was fearful what the consequences might be to him and, if he were of value. to the south if she should take away from him the stimulus of hope. Yet she had at last reached the point where she felt compelled to do so. As he loved her more he expected more| from her; as she loved Peyton more. she gave I)arrow; less and less
 Her heart had turned absolutely to Peyton. Saving her duty to the south, she was his. His absence, the impossi- bility of their meeting, all conspired to produce the utter abandonment with which she gave away to her passion She could not sit ia single moment in the solitude of her chamber without. thinking of him. She realized that if he ever stood again before her with his arms stretched out to her. no power on earth should keep them apart-unless her duty to the south ,fntervened.syAnd even that duty would have to be over whelming in its appeal to stay her movement toward him.
 1 Her being went out to him more strongly when she learned inadyertent- l ly that he was an officer on one of the ships blockading the mouth of the bayy opposite Fort Morgan. Fate had as yet given him little opportunity for dis tinctton; he was only a lieutenant, the watch officer of frigate.
 The oyerpOwering of great passion such as poets have dreamed of, such as historians have written of, such as, given wider fields, have moved the world, twas upon her. The thought Of Peyton obsessed her, and her heart cried out to him with every beat ting. She trembled even at the most secret thought of his name. She was never so happy as when Mrs. Peyton, long since having disregarded her husbands injunctions, talked of him.
 The elder woman marked the reyela- tion and wondered with painful pity Tor poor DarroW ahds a mIguTy yearn- l ing for her eldest son, how it would all end. The grim old father, too, down
 on the ramparts of Fort Morgan, watched the fleet tossing to and fro on the long swells of the gulf of Mexico and longed for sight of the boy he had so loved \S | In Mary Annan's waking hours she was afraid, afraid to think how much she loved Boyd Peyton. In the long nights she dreamed of him. She was l his, that was all. Whether he claimed her or no, whether he knew 1t or not, she was his An, loving God, how she prayed for him in every hour of her | lifel The south and he mingled in her l petitions, and only that God who can read the holy mystery of q loving wo- mans heart knew which came first. 1 Her feelings grew so strong at last that she came to the conclusion that she must tell Darrow. If 1t killed him, he must know. Every letter she re- ceived in it's trusting devotion inn | pressed upon her that honor demanded that he should be told the truth. She did not love him. She never could love him. Marriage. with him would