Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-09-03

distance alone in the darkness. left
 my seat. went to her and took her | hands. In the darkness she laid her
 tender, pitying arms around my neck.
 l felt her wet cheek against my own. Alas. knew the language of that silent caress. She loved Richard, but, with
 all the fullness of her angelic nature,
 she pitied me. She would be my sis ter.
 No word was spoken by either of us.
 We went out of the church and went home, under the night and the trees.
 One evening we three were alone in the long parlor. I sat at one end among the shadows. Richard and Leona were at the other, where the moon-for I heard them talking of it -shone in at the open window. Per- haps Richard thought could not hear, or that I slept. He did not know what a second sight hearing is to the blind. Not murmur, not quiver of their voices escaped me. It seems that he had never told her of his love before. He poured it forth now with passion ate, fervid eloquence. listened breath lessly for her answer.
 T cannot" she says; "oh, l cannot! I thought you knew-I thought you must have known" And here the tender, troubled voice breaks up into pitiful sobs as she beseeches him to leave her. only to leave her. Richard makes no attempt to comfort her. I hear him go out. Then I cross the room; I kneel at her feet; l tell her I have heard all; and then mad inn pulse seizes me; pour out at her feet the libation of my love. cannot help it. Blind, and poor, and helpless as ] was, had dared to love her. l did not mean to tell her. knew she could never return 1t. But when had heard her grieve, I had longed so to comfort her: I had wanted her to know how gladly would die to give her peace.
 Oh how can I tell the story? She did not spurn me- Once more, in the darkness, her tender arms were laid about my neck. For the first time I felt upon my mouth the kisses of her fresh, pure lips. Her words were sol emn and earnest: DO not die for me. Live. live, dear Allen! and, if you love me, let me be your wife,
 When our betrothal was made known there was a struggle in my brothers heart. He loved me; he strove to re- joice in my happiness; but he could not stay to witness it. l, who knew Leona's worth, did not blame him. He left home, the next week, for year of foreign travel; and, three weeks after, Leona became my wife.
 I miss no pleasant sights or sounds of nature, fc: in her l have all things. do not even need to look on her be- loved face, for l see it in my heart forever, fresh, and young, and fair as when my eyes first beheld it. She was but child when she first aroused me from my blind despair. She was my comforter then. She will be all the days of my life. The two years since our bridal have been full of joy. My heart has hardly space for more. And yet Leona told me, last night, at twi- light with her glowing face buried in my bosom, that 1 must find space in my love for new claimant. l am to be father.
 A month ago Richard brought home his bride. They call her more beauti- full than Leona, but her voice is not so thrilling in its music. I do not be- lieve so much soul looks from the eyes they call so dark and bright. am full of content. I know, when Gods own angels shall unseal my vision-when, in the everlasting light of heaven, the blind shall see again-fairest among women, fairest and truest will stand by my side, my God-given-my wife, Leopa.
 Unstable Man..
 Montaigne: Man in sooth is a mar yellouS vain fickle and unstable suh