Litchfield enquirer., 1862-11-20

would not permit himself to bid Bessie farewell
 except in a general way, and in the presence ( others. She wept bitterly; but, then, so di half dozen young girls besides, for he was
 universal favorite.
 At the final word, Bessie gave him a prett tobacco-pouch that she d WI rked for him kissed him, and ran away Henry cluns to him 1 imploring him to return soon aud the who'll party were 50 sorrowfully slow in their adieua that they came near being carried off on th steamer with him.
 In the tobacco pouch was a note from Bessie and in the note was confession that she lovet him, and him only.
 That was the last drop of the bitter cup. Five years of weary wandering cooled hi ! brain and steadied his mind. He did not love t!,a i; ss, bat concealed it better. scar is no wound. He came home healthy, pleasan fellow thoughtful, polished, strong with him self and fond, apparently of the gayest soclet! he could find.
 Not word had he exchanged with friends o1 relatives since he went away for with all 'hi> kindness and sociabities, he seemed to have lost interest in all who were not present. He lived in the actual moment, the Now, and gave no evidence of any hope or fear connected witt future or past. In word, he had perfectly schooled his outer man.
 The first news he learned was of the death o both his parents and he heard it without tear The next was, that Henry and Bessie had been three years married.
 'Ah! expected they would make match sooner or later said he. Perhaps there was little shrinking Of the evelids, as in that of an anathetized patient when the surgeon kuife touched the perioste- um, but nobody noticed any further evidence o' emotion.
 Going to call upon his brother and Bessie who can tell with what feelings? Albert Fey ton found house of mourning terrible tra- gedy, dark mysterious, and awful to imagine had just occurred No one knew the details, save little servant girl, who was called by 
 Bessie to go upon some errand, and returned just in time 10 witness it.
 Mistress was dressing in he room, and mas ter in his,' she told Albert. Master was sha- wing leastways, took him up some hot water five minutes before. I went to mistress, and was going to give her the things she had sent me for, when master jumped out of the room, and gave the awfulest yell l ever heard. lie had la ther on his face, and razor in his hand didn't sec him touch mistress, because he stood between me and her but she feil over on the Aeor She only said o God!' once ran .lown s.a;rs and screamed for help. and cook and the rest went up. didn't dare to go again
 Cook and the rest had found Bessie lying on the carpet, half dressed with her throat cut from ear to ear. Her husband lay across the door sill, between two dressing rooms, dead, and f.om precisely similar wound.
 Insanity is like love. It may shoulder, but it burns still or. like a poisoned wound, it may cicatrze. but is not healed.
 This was the story of Albert Peyton's life and love, and this was the end of his active experi. ence His inner life ceased then and there and nothing but the purely external could interest him thereafter. He went abroad for another five years wandering; and when he returned became the semblance l have showed in the be- ginning of this story.
 A whim, a fancy, single memory revived by Hackett's music, probably had been too much f,r him., The tension was always at its furtheSt extreme, and the least trlhe sufficed to snap the cord