The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-03-09
(Continued.1

l That was childish as to en- joy looking at the animals. I aim really quite grown up you know l Chester's senses swan as he stood and gazed at her. A sudden reality 1 seemed to overspread the whole af- 1 fair. This could not actually be he talking to this dainty, elusive divin- l ity. It was really not her rich young 1 voice that he heard when she replied. l He was back in the cabin of the i Sa uterne dreaming a delicious dream evoked by the finding of the little watch.
 l "He didn't betray you,"e he said ] unsteadiIy
 They were both silent as he helped her into the sleigh.
 Where to % inquired the groom | respectfully.
 l Chester.
 The next minute they were gliding smoothly along beneath the white shrouded trees, with nothing but the rythmic swaying of the sleigh to be- tray the rapidity of the motion. The frost had formed upon the windows, nd in the dim light Chester could hardly see the cool flush of her cheek. He felt rather than perceiv- ed the perfection of her f1ower-like face, daintily, dangerous near; im- measurably, hopelessly far away; irresistfbly close to him; as impossf- hle of attainment a distant star. He knew that her fragrant brea th was coming quickly, but how he knew it he could not tell. She sat with her face half averted. He could see the eager, tendrils curling about her little ears, and making the slightest possible shadow on her forehead, contrasting with the radience of her eyes. He knew that he must speak in a moment, and shrank from the possibility of a single false cadence in his voice, a jarring word or mis- interpreted thought.
 May I tell you,'' he said at last, sewhy am here, why we are here to- gether?"
 Edith was silent, and he stumbled
 ''The first time met you was on the pier, under extremely equivocal circumstances. When had that fall and opened my eyes I thought per haps that I had died and gone to heaven l
 The girl moved away from him slightly.
 q looked up,'' continued Chester desperately, t'and saw your eyes full of the divfnest pity. It was all so sudden, and I was so stunned that I hardly know what I said. I only know that it was all wrong.
 Then I met you at the Uruguay. I did not know your last name, and presumed to call you by the first. Il knew then that I that must see you again.
 linen your father allowed me to call. It was your presence alone that led me to make my absurd confes- sion. I couldn't lie to you in thought or word or deed. wanted to under stand, and you said that you under stood. A day has never passed since that time that have not blessed you for those words.
 ffThen I was sent away to Texas. | could not see you, and I presumed to write to you. I tried to he cheer | full and friendly and amusing. You never answered.
 Papa .' began the girl.
 .tBut then" Chester went on inn petuously, then I met you in the park. I had found out in the mean time that Perry Langham was not the friend I thought he was. I
 
 father and warned him against me l as a dishonest man.
 "Did MT. Langham really do that? Have you quarre1ed with him real 1 Iy?"
 Have not cause to?''
 s'He never breathed one syllable | gainst you to me-"
 ''Have you seen him often since ?"
 "Quite frequently. He comes down to talk to papa and me-
 '.And he never said a word against mel"
 NO, he only seemed sad when he spoke of you. You seemed so fond of each other that I thought that it was because you were away
 Chester leaned forward suddenly.
 DO you know why I am asking you all these questions? Do you know what I am telling you means ?"
 The girl drew away from him ir alright.
 "I wonder where we are,'' she ex- claimed; and hastily rubbed away a patch of the frost on the window with her little gloved hand.
 ,S- eyes met hers. The little hand was