Litchfield enquirer., 1857-04-02

What was my surprise when, quite early; l heard him rise and go down, just as if nothing Was ailing him I found him sitting at the breakfast table in his travelling coat, looking very haggard and miserable, but evidently bent on a journey:
 Father, you are not going to Bath ? Yes, be-
 Not till the evening coach starts,' I cried, alarmed. We can't, you kuow ? i. 'Ill take a post chase, then. We must be off in an hour
 An hour The cruel pain of parting (my dear, believe l used to feel things keen ly when I was young )-shot through me through and through A single hour, and should have said good bye to Edmond--one of those heart-breaking farewels when we seem to leave half Of our poor young life be- hind us, forg, tting that the only real parting is when there is no love left to part front: A few years, and I wondered how 1 could have crcpt away and wept in such intolcrable agony at the mcfe bidding good bye to Edmond-Ed- mond, who loved me-
 Every minute seemed a day till he caine;4 as usual, to breakfast: My red eyes and my fathers corded trunk explained alI s i Dr. Thwaite, you are not going :? 1 'Yes, be- repeated my father He sat moodiS, leaning on the table --%otild not taste his breakfast.
 Not till the night coach, surely? I was to take you and Mistress Dorothy to see Mir Benjamin West, the kings painter Mir. Everest used many arguments, gay dnd grave, upon which l hung with earnest con viction and hope He made things so clear always he was man of much brighter parts than my father and had great influence over him.
 Dorothy he whispered, help me to per suadc the Doctor It is so little time 1 beg for, only few hours and before so long partng' Ay, longer than he thought; or 1. ! 'Children; cried my father at last, you are couple of fools. Wait till you have been married twenty years. I must go to my Dol iIy. I know there is something amiss at home.'
 l should have felt ularined; but saw Mr. Everest smile and besides was tet glowing under his fond look, as my father spoke of our being married twelve yearss'
 Father, you have surely no feason for thinking this If you have tell us:'
 My father just lifted his head, and looked the wofnlly in the face.
 'Doroths, last night, as snfe as i see you now, saw your mother H~ Il
 IS tHdI dil Cficu LNeJtS'; iuuSHHfS why, my good sir, of course you did; you were dreaming I had not gone to sleep:'
 How did son see her ?
 Coming into the room just as she used to do in the bedroom at home, with tfe candle iu her hand and the baby asleep on her arm:'
 Did she speak ? asked MT: Everest, with another and rather satir:cal smile remember you saw Hamlet last night. Indeed, sir--in- deed, Dorothy--it was a mere dream: I do not believe in ghosts it wohld be ah insult to eomtnoii sense, to human wisdom--nay, even to Divinity itself.'
 Edmond spoke so eafnestiy, 50 justly so affectonately, that perforce l agreed and even my father began to feel rather ashamed of his own weakness. He, a physician; the head of family, to yield to mere supersti- tious fancy, springing probably from hot sup per and an ovcr-excitcd brain To the same cause Mr. Everest attributed the other incl 1 dent, which somewhat hcsitatingly told him.
 Dear, it was bird nothing but bird. One flew in at my window last spring :; it had hurt itself and 1 kept it, and nursed it, and pettcd it. It was such gentle thng it put me in mind of Dcrothys'
 Did it l? said I.
 < And at last it got we'll and flew away.' l 'Ah that was not like Dorothy. l 'Tl,ls, my father being pcrsuaded, it was not hard to persuade me. We settled to re- main till evening. Edmond and I, with my maid Patty, went about together, chiefly in Mr. Vests Gallery, and in the quiet shade of our favoritc Temple Gardens. Aud if for those four stolen hours and the sweetness in them, I afterwards suffered untold remorse and bitter ness, have entirely forgiven myself, as ] know my dear mother would have forgiv- en me, long ago.
 The old lady here wiped her eyes; speaking i in matter o.-fact way which some old people ! have.
 l Well my dear, where was I ?
 In the Temple Gardens
 Yes, yes. Well, we came ho.nc to dinner My father always enjoyed his dinner, and his nap afterwards he had nearly rerovered him. self now only looked tired from want of rest. Edmond and sat in the window, watching the barges and wineries down the Thames there were DO steamboats then, you know. 1 Some one knocked at the door with q mes sage for my father, but he slept so heavily he did not fear Mir. Everest went to see wnat it was: stood at the window remember mechanically watching the red sail oi Mar. gate hoy that was going down the river, and thinking with a sharp pang how dark the room seemed, with Edmond not there.
 .Re-cnterng after somewhat long absence he never looked at me but went straight to my father.
 Sir, it is almost time for you to start. There is coach at the door and, pardon me, but think yon should travel quickly
 My father sprapg to his feet.
 Dear sir, indeed there is no. cause for anx- iety now: but f have received news. You have another little daughter, sir, and--
 'Dolly, my Dollyp Without another word, my father rushed away without bis bat,