Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-01-22

US56u JIsAt Iu6 past Adu DS6ta d ullSIdhCs that she had professed to love a man. not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but that 1t was better so, since 1t had brought understand ! ing. Now, in this calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, 1 regretting the wandering life which
 had been it's portion, saying that for
 Mary Connynge she no longer felt hor-
 TOT and hatred. Thus 1t was that in a i hasty moment Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that unfortunate child.
 It was to his own amazement that he
 heard Lady Catharine Knollys consent. stipulating that the child should be l placed in Paris convent for two
 years, and that for two years John
 Law should see neither his daughter l nor herself Obedient as a child him. self he had promised.
 Now, go away" she then had said | to him. "Go your own way. Drink, dice, game, and waste the talen6 tod
 hath given you. You have made rain enough for all of us. would only that 1t may not run so far as to another generation
 So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years spent by Law more manfully
 than any of his life. His fortune he
 had gathered together, amounting to
 more than a million livres. He had
 sent once more for his brother Will. and thus the two had lived for some
 time in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in his abstruse theories of banking and hnance-theorieS then new, now out lived in great part, though fit to be called portion of the great foundation of the commercial system of the world.
 It was a wiser and soberer and riper
 John Law, this man who had but re-
 gently received summons from Phil 1ppe Of Orleans to be present in Paris, for that the king was dying, and that
 all France, France the bankrupt and distracted, was on the brink of sudden
 and perhaps fateful change.
 With a quick revival of all his high land superstition, Law hailed now as
 happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once more VI NAAS AA0P@S, AAC A1O LACC III 0uCA ldSu-
 ion this lady of his dreams, even at such time as the seal of silence was
 lifted from his lips. It was no wonder
 that his eye gleamed, that his voice
 took on the old vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought, assumed the tender defer
 ence of the lover.
 For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The
 death of her brother, the earl of Ban
 bury, had wrought many shifts in the
 circumstances of house apparently
 pursued by unkind fate Left practi- cally alone and caring little for the life
 of London, even after there had worn
 away the chill of suspicion which fol-
 lowed upon the popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London, Lady Catharine Knollys turned to life and world suddenly grown vague and empty Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to the old family house in En- gland, long journeys in this or the
 other city-such had been her life,
 quiet, sweet, reproachless and unre- pi oesSiihS. 4 VI tIuC pICS0uLt SuG n1u
 taken an hotel in the older part of
 Paris, in connection with her friend,
 the countess of Warrington, sometime
 connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to act as spy fer England in Paris, now so soon to
 know tumultuous scenes.
 But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady Cathar- inc. Law sprsng out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to the curb.
 A passing flower girl, gaiIy offering
 her wares, paused as the carriage drew
 up. Law turned quickly sand caught
 from her as many roses as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half
 as much coin as her smaller palm could
 Told. He turned to the Lady Cath
 arine, and bowed with that grace which was the talk of world of gal lants. In his hand he extended a flower.
 Madam, as before." he said.
 There was sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly unmasked as they had
 not been for years. Tears came into the mans eyes, the first that had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which once might have
 been.