Litchfield enquirer., 1860-01-26
FROM BLAcKwooD's MAGAZINE.
PART II.

] FROM BLAcKwooD's MAGAZINE. PART II. There was surely no tedious lingering b I the way in my book wrote in desperat q haste to have finished it. q With keneIm's many letters one mornin n came letter to me. l received It troI Il him, and blushed as 1 slipped it into m r apron pocket It was from my friend, in a'
 swcr TO a note had sent her about ny booE :, By this ttule had bacotne morhidly ne yous sI was haunted by vague sense { wrong doing and dread ot Being ort.s.. ss. tell direct falsehood. l had more than one terrible alarm Of detection.
 After pocketng my letter 1 carefully avoid ed looking toward my husband.
 Read t4is, Munie," he said presently, putting one of the letters he had received before me.
 l obeyed.
 "What shall you do, Kenelm Shall you go?' asked. when had finished. It was from one of my husbands brothers, begging his mediation with the stern old father, who had been bitterly offended-how, does not concern my story.
 "Shal WE go, you surely mean, Minnie"
 dropped my head; my work was nearly competed; it would be dreadful to me to leave it now. We had been so estrangcd lately my longing to have done with this and every secret was very great; if ] were left alone day or two, it could be safely con- pletcd.
 "Perllaps you are right, and I ought to go alone," Kcnem said, after q painful silence
 "I think you should. It is an expensive tourney; your father does not like me, and"-- II had rather my wife had been thus ca, ger that we should not separate. You have prudence on your side, but--you are changed Mary" He rose as he spoke.
 G Do not say am changed! Do not speak SO! l can not bear it." 1 spoke passion ately. He came to my side, sat down by me, and took my hand.
 If am to be of any use. l should go to- day at onee," he began. "The last few weeks, Minnie, something has divided us: Shall we not be one again before We part?''
 I was silent; did not raise my eyes.
 Perhaps in the struggle did not appear un-
 moved, 1 looked obstinate and cross, for
 Kene!m's tone changed.
 "That letter-remember, Mary, do not
 stoop to suspect you of wrong; it is simply
 your want of confidence that deplore."
 Suspect me of wrong, indeed!" cried,
 again taking refuge in that petuant unrea'
 condolences which baffies men sorely. "It is you, Kenelm, who have DO confidence in
 mel You treat your wife as if she were a mere chid!'
 eff the time has gone by when she loved
 to be so treated--when she made me hel conscience and hid nothing from mel must painfully learn how this changed wife desires that 1 should treat her."
 He left the room; when he was gone , wept. But was a little angry; or. as passing his study-door on my way up stair: to pack his clothes, saw him seated at hi study table with his head bowed upon hi
 hands, could not have resisted the tempta f tiou to go to him and confess everything. It was only by looking back afterwart f that could understand how much chang , he found in mellow many sgns he sew tha my thoughts were not all, or even chiefly hi l besides reading that in my often abstract g ed face. Many of my little duties were neg a lected, or performed by Amp; many minut cares TOT Aeueim oluiIIeu o"i'"o '""' e feverish weeks. As packed my husbands clothes, l she l. some tears over them. When he was actu ally gone, after most painfully leave-tak > iug, felt utterly miserable; spent the da r. between crying and sleeping, and onl t thought of my book with disgust and loatf
 ing.
 y Next morning brought me cordial. d few kind lines from Kenelm, written th u- night before, from the rcsting-place, whic ,u was halfway toward his journeys end. H. Having further stimulated my courage b y, feperusing my friends note, which told n r, ot the favorable arrangements she hoped | ,n make tor the publication of my book, I St Id to work
 Id The misery of my heroine was approacl q. ing its climax; was one with her. shake S. by her fears, torn by her passions, trauspor d cd hv her hone