Litchfield enquirer., 1867-07-04
ing the parlor. Irose dressed and went

been during the day.
 ] "I think she will need me- Half an hour that man has been in the entry, end she has been beseeching him to go. if he does not leave here soon shall go out. 1t wes now not quite twelve. 1 could hear the murmur of conversation below. The house was not yet asleep. Presently there came a low tap at our parlor door. ! Carl opened it upon Miss Aubusson standing there in her white cassimers wrap per, her features tense and sharp, her eyes wild and fearful
 You said you would help me, Mir, Fries :" Il will-with my life"
 ''Thank you!" the word so poorly expres- sed the gratitude that lit her face. II need you now"
 Carl went out instantly, and closed the door somewhat chagrined l, too, was ca ger to help her. But ! had seemed to see me. and would n>, ohtrude myself But through the open loor, I had seen the man leaning against the wall intoxicat- the doorway of Miss Aubussons parlor, shaking her fist and by other vivid panto- mime expressing her scorn of the intruder
 I heard Carl say.
 T will take him away Miss Aubusson. Pray don't be alarmed" She broke into low cry. 'Oh, don't hurt him, Mr Fries! Oh, be gentle with him! If you can only get him 1 away without any one seeing him I will thank you forever I shall die of shame if he is seen'-and here the voice was choked by passionate sobs
 Don't fear! will do my best Where shall l take him?"
 She gave an address, and added few broken words of thanks
 heard them going along the entry and down stairs-the true, steady step and the clumsy, uncertain one. Then, after time door shut somewhere, and all was still again, except for the sound of passion ate, bitter weeping and Norine's broken in- etfectual attempts at consolation. longed to go to her, but dared not. I mended the fire aud waited for Carl It was an hour or more before he came in. He look ed pale and troubled. He sat down in the chair l silently placed for him, and gazed gloomily upon the smouldenng fire. I knew that he bitterly feared some terrible disgrace for the woman he loved. l sat down beside him presently. ''Did you get him off unseen, Carl?"
 ''Yes, thank Heaven! was all the time afraid, though, that he would collapse on my hands I got him across the hall into the servants entry, and so out by the rear entrance. It was only by great good luck that we met no one. I finally got him home. On the way he talkel in 8 maudlin way about Kate, but l paid little atten- tion to him" And then Carl paused.
 "What is he to her, do you think?"
 Ut was Carls question. I had not dar- ed to ask it. l gave no answer In the pause that followed We both recalled the voice and look of tender pain with which she besought Carl not to hurt him the un- feigned distress with which she sobbed out that she should die of shame if he were seen.
 ''He is not i'll lookingr I said at last; ''not if he were the man he was meant to be. There is really something uncommon about him. A fine nature in ruins, , add
 "Wellr' said Carl sharply. ''Why don't you say 1t out, Nell? You think he may be her husband? So do I. Great heaven! A woman chained to a thing like that!'' 1 There was no word to be said, no consO- lation to offer I could almost have wish ed Miss Aubusson at the bottom of the sea before she had come to be the disturber of Carl's peace.
 We had not been without our troubles we two. B1t they were now only remem- bered sorrows. Carl had climbed into the sunlight of fame, and I sat by and shared the brightness. Nobody else had right to be proud of him. I was proud of that too. And I had had my little bangs when the large, unsatisfed nature went out tC seek another love than mine But this sel- fish feeling died in the prospect of trouble to Carl. What would I not have done tc 1 A,,h ol 4o o4r with him.
 dreamed of her in the brief, uneasy maps that filled the rest of the night. He1 sweet, pathetic beauty was before me, the sorrowful, tender passion of her voice ir my ears
 I was curious to meet herin the morning ] searched the proud, gentle face for any shame or dishonor of her own. But could not find it. And had made up my mind that Miss Aubusson was a vicarious sufferer, when Carl bent over me in passing his azure eyes afame
 ''I am going to see her. I have asked for an interview. I shall know what spec ire it is that haunts her," he said. Looking up at him; could not help say ing, impetuously, God help you if it is anything that can come between you anC her!' For saw that, for better or fol worse, he had given his whole soul into this woman's keeping-given 1t with that entire surrender that is only possible tc such strong, self-centred natures as his.
 I sat while in the drawing-room wait, ing, but Carl did not return. Then l went out to the studio, where I was accustomed to meet my class of young girls. All thai morning there was current of thoug nj tending toward Carl underneath, the care less, girlish chatter.
 Carl was in the habit of looking in upor me almost every day; sometimes we ate our lunch together; if it was only for five minutes that he staid, it made my day bright. I liked to get away iron the pro- saic details of my daily work, and rise into Carl's world filled with all beautiful forms of poesy. ' But to day he did not come at all, and the gray, sombre afternoon drew slowl y tc 8 close.
 As soon as I was free, I went home, ano hastened up to the parlor. Carl was there some pretence of reading in his hands. But he was only thinking. .'Well, Carl!'
 A shale crossed his face as he met ny eager look. ::It was all unsettled as yetr' he said, hastily. Twas vexed and annoyed. s'Dont be impatient, Nelly! l am to
 4,