Waterbury evening Democrat., 1904-03-21

1 care He died 3s they carried him over the threshold and when we looked 1t was your face"
 MT. .Verney opened the little door and together they went in.
 Tt was as if I were looking at my self when life had gone. I wonder who he is. These accidental resemblances are very strange. I have never seen the man. Poor fellow! How sad that he should have come here to-day. Gin evra! hope she has not seen. We will 1 never tell her of what has happened. Let me go to her.
 When Alan entered the room where the bride sat in her white robes she arose and bowed, graciously extending her hand.
 You are welcome,' she said in a voice whose low music was sadder than sobs. "I await my bridegroom. When he comes he will give you welcome to our wedding feast"
 | Sweetheart! Do you not know me?" She drew back in offended dignity.
 Tt is not fitting thata stranger should call me by that name. You jest, sir. If you have come to do honor to our nuptia1s you should not speak light words" .- ,-. ... ...
 She sank back into her chair, lifting her gaze upward and waiting with a smile of happy expectation on her lips. All the answer she gave to his en- treaties was a gentle: T await my bridegroom's coming"
 The days and the weeks and the months went by and drifted into years and still the maiden waited for the lover whom her dazed mind could not recognize, though he watched over her with tender care until hope was gone and he knew that his presence could never bring anything of pleasure to her heart. Then he went away. The years passed on and the maiden waited in radiant expectation. and time dimmed not the springtide bloom of 1 her loveliness. She was ever the fair and loving child-woman, waiting for her bridal.
 Lieut. Alan Warrington had re- turned from the Philippines and was stationed at Fort Milford. Life at an inland fort, with it's routine drills and dress parades, may be more comforta- ] ble than long hikes over tropical is 1 lands, but it leaves something to be de- sired in the way of variety. Lieut.. Warrington found no outlet for his changeful tempers and rowing tenden- cies except in long walks and rides about the country. Homecoming meant less to him than to most island exiles. He was the only child of his father, for whom he had been named. i In his absence his father had died and there was no tie of kindred left to bind l him to his country.
 Sometimes in his walks he passed a knoll, sloping to the south, on which stood large house built of cream colored stone, contrasting wildly with | the green of the line of trees beyond and the pale turquoise of the sky. In passing he had seen beautiful girl at the gate, always with an older | woman at her side, who seemed to be 1 less a companion than an attendant. He had noted the girls waving amber ] hair and the brown of her great eyes and the fairness of her delicateIy pink cheeks.
 l One morning he was riding along the road thinking of the beautiful maiden and wondering who she was and why she looked out upon the world with such wandering, restless eyes. AS he drew near the great house he saw her come alone down the garden path, glancing back now and then as if in fear that some one would steal upon l her solitude. When she reached the gate she stood for moment, looking i longingly out. Then she raised the 1 latch with a swift movement and ran out into the road. She lifted her arms 1 high above her head and laughed in clear musical tone.
 | As Alan watched her poised grace fully, swinging her arms like slender wind-swept boughs, he heard the sud- 1 den harsh jangle of bells. Down the 1 road came two automobiles racing at their utmost speed. She did not seem to hear the warning, though the fore most machine had almost leaped upon | her.
 Alan dashed forward, seized her by i the arm and drew her from the track, the automobile touching her swaying garments as it flew by. She uttered sharp cry and passed her hand over her eyes as if to push aside 8 veil. A look of terror came into her face and then gave way to an expression of dawning consciousness, as Of one who wakes from long sleep. She looked up and saw in the face of his son the Alan Warrington of her youth.
 ''I am so glad you have come, Alan I new you would, but the waiting seemed an eternity. The train was | late, they told me-"
 Yes" he said, with a puzzled ex- pression.
 Then there came the memory of the old story he had heard long ago of the girl who had waited for his father through the years which had brought death to the faithful lover, but had left the maiden still the fair, loving bride, unconscious of and untouched by the passage of years. The love ot the bridegroom of years agone leaped