Waterbury evening Democrat., 1908-09-19

The parchment crdckltng under hds pen. yer, the parchment cracking under his pen. .
 Judge Conwell glanced curiously at Harry Sanderson as he plotted the emendation. He knew the liking of the cross grained and taciturn old in- valid, St. James richest parishioner Sor this young man of twenty-five who had come to the parish only two months before. fresh from his theo- logical studies, to fill place tempo rarily vacant and had stayed by sheer force of personality. He wondered If, aside from natural magnetic qualities, this liking had not been due first of all to the curious resemblance between the young minister and the absent son whom David Stires was disinheritfng for as far as mold of feature went the young minister and the ne'er-do-well might have been twin brothers.
 No one perhaps had ever interested the community more than had Harry Sanderson. He had entered upon his duties with the marks of youth, good looks, self possession and an ample in- rome thick upon him and had brought with him peculiar charm of manner and an apparent incapacity for doing things in hackneyed way. Conven- ton sat lightly upon Harry Sanderson He recognized few precedents either in the new methods and millinery with which he had invested the service or in bis personal habits. Instead of at- tending the meeting of St. Andrews guild, after the constant custom of his predecessor, he was apt to be found playing his violin (a passion with him) in the smart study that adjoined the gothic chapel where he shepherded his fashionable flock or tramping across the country with brier pipe in his mouth and his brown spaniel, Rummy, nosing at his heels. His athletic frame md clean chiseled features made him rare figure for the reading desk, as his violin practice, the cut of his golf aannels, the immaculate elegance of his motor car, even the white carna- hon he affected fin his buttonhole, made him for the younger men good y pattern of the cloth, and it had speedily grown to be the fashion to bear the brilliant young minister.
 Something of all this was in the law yer's mind as he paused-a perfunctory pause-before he continued:
 q do give and bequeath the sum of s1000 and the memory of his misspent youth"
 Harry Sanderson's eyes had wan lered from the chair to the slim fig ure of the girl who sat by the screen. This was Jessica Holme, the orphaned daughter of q friend of the old mans early years, who had recently come to the house ir the aspens to fill the void left by Hugh's departure. Harry could see the contour of throat and wrists, the wild rose mesh of the skin against the Romney blue gown. the plenteous red bronze hair uncoiled and falling in . single braid and the shadowy pathos of her eyes. Clear hazel eyes they were. wide and full. but there was in them no depth of expression, for Jes- sica Holme was blind. As the crisp, deliberate accent pointed the judicial period as with subterranean echo of lrrefutable condemnation Harry saw her under lip fndrawn, her. hands clasp lightly. then unclasp in her lap. Pliant. graceful bands, he thought, which even blindness could not make maladroit.
 ''Go on." rasped the old man.
 ''The residue of my estate, real and personal. I do give and bequeath to my ward, Jessica Holme"-
 He broke oi suddenly, for the girl was kneeling by the chair groping for the restless hand that wandered on the eSgAan sod er1tng b strained. aSi.