Litchfield enquirer., 1867-05-02

Sutherland's name at the Hollies; that pass ed, and l pined to hear of him with wear, anxious longing, seldom satisfied They ceased to speak of him after awhile, a people do after long absent friend. ani by degrees it seemed as if he was only re membered in one poor wcman's heart, wht almost came to think of him as if he haC been removed by death So that one day Milly came back from the Eollies; and said as she united her hat and threw 1t down ' Hester, guess; who in the world do VOL think came to the Hollies last night?" No even my thoughts suggested the right per ! son.
 "No, no," said aTilly, as I named one o1 two; no; who but Cousin Mark who wen away to India years ago! I was 3 mere child at that time, but l remembered hin instantly-a compliment he did not return by the by; though, when he found who was, he asked after you.'
 Years ago, was it, since Mark went away: An! as AIilly spoke 1t seemed only yester day; the joy, the sorrow, the old plans, SC freshly now, were throbbing so wildly once more in my heart. He had not quite for. gotten me, then? but did he remember me as I remembered him?
 ''9 do believe you have forgotten all about him." Milly went on, "and let me tell you, I wonder at that. for I remember he used to be so fond of talking to you, Hetty, and he is the kind of 8 man that women may be fond of attracting, none the less because he cares very little, I should say for women in general"
 Really, Milly, you seem to have stud jed Mir Sutherland closely, considering 2 this may be your first acquaintance with him.
 She laughed blushed, and threw back her beautiful golden hair.
 1 "No, l'dont know as Ihaye; he devo, ted himself to me good deal this evening, and l couldn't help forming my opinion you know. There is to be a croquet party tomorrow at the Eollies, and Mr. Suther- land made me promise to come up and bring you, if you would come, but I told him beforehand that I knew you'd not go, knowing your dislike to that delectable means for the promotion of flirting
 And after this 1t happened that, Milly ei- ther went or was sent for nearly every day up to the Hollies-where, indeed, she was very much in the habit of going; while ] who had long ceased to care for any com panlonship besides my sister's sat at home longing, with feverish longing, to see Mark Sutherland once more, and yet dread ing with a siclzening dread to meet the careless, estranged glance of the dark eyes that had once looked into mine, full ot love.
 It seemed that Mark not unfrequently accompanied Milly part of the way home but he never came near enough to our cot tage for me to catch even the most. dis tant glimpse of him, and my little sister had somehow ceased to talk of him after the first. So, although l still knew he staid at the Hollies, he might almost 8: well have been across the wide ocean as fa7 as was concerned. And yet-oh, no! the sense of his presence seemed borne to mt upon every breath of the sweet summe air that foated into my room; could no sleep at night-nor rest calmly by day and often, when Nilly sat with her friends l used to wander out, scarce needing where I went, impatient only of rest
 One day when this terrible yearning wa strong upon me, took my sketching ma torials, from force Of habit, and set out tt walk to a wood some distance. The cool green fragrance of the lcafy shadows wa grateful after the glaring sunshtno, and sat down to rest where 1t felt coolest. Blu a sudden sound of merry voices close a hand startled me, and, not willing to set who the speakers were, got up and fec swiftly down the darkest and most tangled of the paths that branched away into the heart of the wood. soon left the merr, voices far behind me, and, slackening m, pace, l wandered on, dreamy and absorbed as ever, till suddenly, turning into anothe path, saw what caused me to stand stil and forget ything but what my eye looked upon. Mark Sutherland! Yes Mark-older, darker, thinner, but Mari himself. An, now the green marshes ant the winding sea-wall and the lark singin: far up in the sky, all foated before my eye as l saw the downward bend of his statel7 head to look into the face beside him-th face that looked up into those candid blu eyes, and Q smile upon the soft parted lip The smile seemed to reflect itself upoi Marks grave face for an instant, and the1 he took up little hand lying on his arn and kissed 1t tenderly. I looked no lon ger-l crept away-stricken with dumb an guish, dreadful sullen despair, I crep away and went home. knew the candit blue eyes, the sweet smile and the foatinE golden hair; they were my sister Milly's Oh, had not done enough? Had notI sac rifced enough? Was my cup not yet SC full but that this bitter drop must be added to its overflow
 So cried in my anguish, and it was lon! before better thoughts came to me, or, tha coming, coul hold them firmly and talk comfort. But by-and-by rose from wher had flung myself down, and sat by tn window to watch for Milly. She cam along presently in the quiet evening light and l looked at her with my eyes freshl opened. I had never yet ceased to thin of her as a child; realized in one momen how that child was woman. Hooked a the beautiful. fresh young face, and involun tarily glanced at the reflection of my own i, the mirror opposite. never could have bee1 Tn my best days what Milly was; and now turned away with a sigh from the image o that faded woman, with pale ipsand wear dark eyes.
 Milly came in the next instant, threw O. her hat, and coming up beside me took m face between her two soft hands, looked in to it tenderly minute then kissed me, an sat down with her arm around me.
 ''But, my dear, I have something to tell: she began with strange tremble in he voice though she was smiling too; 'sa wor derful thing.'
 Don't you think would ever guess i Milly dear?'' asked pressing the little on to my throbbing breast.
 "You never could and vet how VOL