Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury [Connecticut]) 1903-1917, 1904-07-15

ton. One was young, mere boy in
years; but certain habit of command,
with the responsibility accompanying,
had given him more manly appear
ance than his age warranted. The
other, to casual glance, seemed much
older than his companion. though
closer inspection would show that he
was still young man and that those
marks upon his face which the careless
passerby would consider the attributes
of age had been traced by the fingers
OF grief and trouble. The bronzed and
weather beaten faces of both riders be-
spoke an open air life and suggested
those who go down upon the great
deep in ships, suggestion further
borne out by the faded, worn naval
uniforms they wore.
In spite OF the Joy Of springtime
which was all about them, both were
silent and both were sad. But the sad
ness of the boy, as was natural, was
less deep, less intense, than that OF the
man. He was too young to realize the
greatness Of the loss he had sustained
in the death of his father and sister,
and were it not for the constant re-
minder afforded him by the presence or
his gloomy companion he would prob
ably, with the careless elasticity OF
youth, have been more successful in
throwing of his own sorrow. The man
had not lost a father or a sister, but
some one dearer STILL He looked thin
and Ill, and under the permanent
bronze of his countenance the ravages
wrought by fever, wounds and long
illness were plainly perceptible. There
were gray hairs In his thick, neatly
tied locks, too, that had no rightful
place there in one Of his age. The
younger and stronger assisted and
watched over his older companion with
the tenderest care and attention.
They rode slowly up the pleasant
road under the great trees, from time
to time engaging in desultory con-
versation. Philip endeavored to cheer
his companion by talking lightly OF
boyhood days as each turn of the road
brought familiar places In the old es-
tate in view. Here he and Katharine
and Hilary had been wont to play;
there was a favorite spot, a pleasant
haunt here; this had been the scene of
some amusing adventure. These well
meant "reminiscences nearly drove Sey-
mour mad, but he would not stop them.
Finally they came to the place where
the road divided, one branch pursuing
Its course along the river bank past
the boathouse toward the Talbot place,
the other turning inland from the river
and winding about till it surmounted
the high bluff and reached the door of
the Hall. There Philip drew rein.
"This is the way to the Hall. you
know, Captain Seymour he said,
pointing to the right Seymour hest
lated moment and said finally:
Eyes, I know. The boathouse lies
over there, does 1t not, beyond the
turn? I think will let you go up to
the house alone, Philip, and I will go
down to the boathouse myself. I will
ride back presently"
well, then, / will go with you" said
Philip. II really think you are too
weak, you know, especially after our
long ride today, to go alone.''
''No, Philip" said Seymour gently
Il wish to be alone for a few mo-
ments."
The boy hesitated.
"Oh, very WELL" he said, beginning
to understand. "I will sit down here on
this tree by the road and wait for you
I'll tie my horse, and you can leave
yours here also If you wish. There is
nothing at the Hall, God knows, to
make me hurry up there now, since
father and Katharine are gone,'' he
continued, with a sigh. go on, sir.
I'll wait. You won't mind my wait
ing?'
mo; certainly not, Il you wish it, ]