Litchfield enquirer., 1857-07-02
The Wooden Spoon.
ALTERED FROM THE SWEDISH.
Confined ftom last aeesk.)
". ANNETTE's ROOM.

| 1t was tasteful room, the pretty Annette
chamber: the walls decorated with engravings
and some paintings tie prettily displayed
toilette table, with all its little eleganeies fol
use or ornament, shaded with thin muslin
curtains, as white as the scene that lay glitter
ing beyond them. But what was rather curl
GUS, was to see, in a hidden spot, pretty
sketch of the lake and red wooden house in
Norand Of which we have already spoken in
the commencement of our narratiye-the scene
where the story of the wooden spoon was Re-
lated. 1t had been put up to please the Ac-
countant, who had got travelling artist to
make the sketch, and had presented it to his
+, foster-daughter Oh her nameday but it was
almost hidden, and kept as much as possible
out of sight.
why do you keep that little picture out OF
sight ? asked the good man once.
1t is SO dear to me- said Annette, color
ing, l wish no one else to see it,
"A beautiful sentiment p murmured the fos-
ter-mamma, much moved.
A pretty thought Y said the foster-papa,
gravely.
1t is now the morning after the ball. The
young girl sat on q sofa, just before the open
door she sat down there in a moment of sud-
den thought and thought had followed
| thought, so that>she forgot to rise Her un-
employed hands, interlaced each other, rested
on her knees, her eyes looking earnestly for
ward, only fastened on the floor of the room
Annette was much prettier in this thoughtful
mood than when she laughed and talked she
was much prettier in simple morning-dress
| than in ballroom attire ; there was something
about her appearance that suited with simpl-
city better than finery and there was more
sensibility in her face when it was serious than
when it was merry. Perhaps the reason Of
the latter YVES that, when she was serious, she
thought Of things which drew out all the hid
den scnslbIlites of her nature. What does
he think of me? Does he think of me at all 2?
| Annette was now asking Does he think of
me more than of others ? If not, why does
he look at Inc SO earnestly, so inquiringly, as if
there were always some question in his mind
concerning me which he longcd to make, or
which he wished himself to answer? What
if he should know all IF he should know
that am not really the person ! seem to be
that my position is "a false one that am on
y Norland new settlers daughter? How
that thought haunts me ! He, so elegant, so
refined, evidently highly born though that l
have never heard but it is so easy to know.
AL II "uCiC " nCC UTOtueF ptSlGC
him, or my poor father :! l used sometimes
to dream of my old home with pleasure, with
tenderness at least ; but now how il-paccd
should l find myself there-how unsuited to
it should be Yes, l was happy there once
the Norland lake aud dwelling happy and
glad and thought Of it once with pleasure !:
| but now, how fear continually fear when
ho Of Wi
eyes, which seem to reach my very heart
fear that he may be thinking of this And
now, if my father should come here-the good,
rough new settler or my brother. with his
long hair down the sides of his FACET he
should come up here and embrace me-the
common peasant ah should die of shame
And yet he as my father; and have moth
er too. How the memory Of childhood will
return 1t is strange that it does not qsite
die out. Once it would come like butterfly,
fluttering round the soul, to draw some honey
from its flowers. Alas believe the flowers
are dead there is no honey for memory to
feed on now. How happy used to be when
Andcrs brought home some fish in the basket,
or hare that was taken in the snare Then
we had feast in the houce, and none Of the
great parties l mingle in now now make me
happier. Now l hear many whisper my name,
and fancy they may be saying She is only
called so; she is nothing but laborer's,
new settlers daughter And if he should say
that-if he should hear it ! But my mother
| my poor mother ! loved her once so in-
wardly, SO warmly can remember sitting on
her lap and learning to spin, when she was at
the spinning-wheel aud when so often broke
the thread, how patiently she would join it
Ack And at the weaving-loom also, how
she used to make me believe I was weaving
the piece for my own frock, or for fathers or
Anders' wear. Yes all that I could think of
once, and without pain but now that have
gone out into the world, that ]. have been pre-
sented in society MOVIES, Annette be sin
cere with thyself-now, since thou hast known
him, since thou hast seen his eyes fastened up
on thee,. since thou hast wished to be his
equal-his"-- The girls thoughts dared
mot syllable to herself the word she started
| from it.
| But Mademoiselle Annette had not been at
all aware that for one full minute at least she
had been intently, perhaps admiringly regard
eo through the open door. Lieutenant HAL
mar had come into one of the adjacent rooms,
and "hen introduced into one room of Swe-
oisn evening, you generally have view of
otners lie stood and looked at the young
girl, sunk in deep and serious meditation. and
looking SO unlike his pretty and lively partner
of the evening before. Never had she seemed
so pretty in Hjalmar's eyes, aud never had she
felt so dear to his heart. How lovely she Is
how sweet, how earnest, while she sits there
alone, communing with her own good hear.
Yes, with such q face, such brow, such eyes,
there must be q heart: she cannot be triaing,
worldly, ambitious