Litchfield enquirer., 1869-06-10

l staring at my book. At last the bell run. land left the room As I went out, T say ,Ib that she was seated in exactly the same DO I!sitien, with the novel lying open zbeforl bher. .a gfs sdt qaber sa.fafYuo 2. 4aa,o -ioaWhen was safe in my own room I sa ldewn and drew long breath. r % ]! !i,sssSo it is trpe,1 ld said to hnyseif. Sam tlWhat then? EI cannot, tell her that | kaoy habout her. Ona thing, however, wes no anow neccessary there was no speaking t. Lmy mother concerning MT. Sartoris need eI ful..4 adsoften thought that, though al t ways gracious, she received their attention II with wonderful indifference. What would 1.-the end oft be? Ae @s<sa a'@ ll es2 d. l sat and speculated before my fire unti i l had scarcely time to- dress for dinner
 That evening. for the first time, she wa.
 not composed, very brilliant, but excitabls and nervous, and fancied she avoided me
 They were very busy arranging some ta6
 leaur Uiuaaats for the evening but ono aftel this, and it appeared to me that MT. Sarto
 ris had contrived that Valerie should have 1 all the principal parts assigned to her There was little doubt as to her fitness; as l watched her face tonight, it looked mors sip it an unrest hitherto unknown. As we f 1 by me, and said in low voice.
 'I have something to say to you tonight
 come into my room when you have had
 your hair brushed"
 a nodded consent, and we separated. As
 soon as I thought she would be ready.
 went to her.. She was sitting before the
 table, wrapped in white dressing-gown. l Therese her maid, was brushing her hair,
 which fell about her like a golden veil. could not help thinking of Savanarola. No
 need of ''capeli morti" here. Had all pos
 sessed such hair as this. there had been a ! smaller fire in the Piazza than we read of. Imagine, my dear readers, a bonfire of ! chignons in Waterloo Place, presided oyer
 by the Bishop of Oxford !" Make haste, ,Therese," she said, impatiently, as she caught sight of me in the glass. and her maid turned it all back and braided it into one great braid at the back.
 She waited till the woman had left the
 room before she spoke. As the door closed she stood up and drew me gently Towards sofa by the fire. We both sat down. Then. without word of preparation, talk both my hands in hers, she looked into my face and said,-
 a1''So Rachel, you have found out my se- cret.'' It was not the way had expected her to speak, and there was no answer ready on
 my lips 797s 'E4 s1 s' z
 s'You musn't mind," she said, gently. seeing, l suppose, my troubled look; '.I think am glad. There will be no more reserve between us now. and we can be true friends" ,gcn 5 1c y& t1a
 Of course kissed her, and of course I told her would be her friend through all. ''-A-i'''A-t '@ "'
 ,9 And now, ''she said, ''I am going to tell you how I come to be here.:' .sfsas.
 She then got up and walked once or twice up and down the room, after which she reseated herself in a low chair hy the fire. 4yog eos..s .satI5i F .5f..ss - ''But first. !" she said, ssmay I see that looked surprised, then bent her head. s.Yes, yes, I see; perhaps l had better not; it was not fair to ask it. fss.s szs.g asrs ...
 Her tone cut me to the heart
 - Valerie! dear Valerie!''I cried, kaeel- ing beside her, 'sforgive me! tis not that; have deceived you; it is written in Eng fish, and copied that bit into French for you to read 'IC Then, miserable and asham- ed, hid my face in her lap. i E Don't. Rachel, don 'tp she implored in her sweet clear voice; Git is no harm; it is far better as it is; better that you should know all the truth since you have guessed so much" av.t -- st..6.t 5 s-.-.. .,.. ..
 But you can never, never love me again. ' = s $ ''' ''.'.7
 'sLove you!" she answered, with smile more piteous than tears; may, as you ask me that dearest, you can hardly know how desolate am! I have no one else to love- ss
 But I could not be at rest until I had told her all my conjectures, from the time of first seeing her, and after that I read her the letter. I could not see her face, which was shaded by her hand, but once or twice there was a convulsive movement of her shoulders which almost frightened me-. When it was done, she said, simply, ''thank you" 1-l..4 Fa Her story as she told it to me that night was too long to write here. believed her then. as know her now, to have been free from the. faintest suspicion of guile, though from her own account she must have been imprudent. It was with sort of horror I learnt that she actually had not been able to ascertain whether her hus- band were alive or dead. The night of the ball she had packed up all her clothes, and jewels which she had come to her from her mother, and had set off for England. Herr Blume had been her music-master ID happier days, and to him she applied. F. During the whole recital she maintained ,a .pitiful complacency, which had in it, however, for me pathos beyond all de- scription.s It was not like person rela- ting story in which they feel any inter est--more like dead man recalling the life to which he can never more return She described her husband, describing him
 to have been noble, generous, brave,o but fiery and passionate. Then. speaking of
 Monsieur de St. Juste, with whom I had
 seen her. she said. "I think he is avery
 bad man, as bad almost as Q man can be,
 without committing, murder and that sort tof thing. '' .'@ '- ~ lT Iaco1id not suppress an ejaculation of astonishment.s bga ,g3siaoa s'seG5o dos Ld She looked at me with sort of smiling despair iny her sweet shining eyes. ..a,,. tE t' An! you wonder at me" she said, s'but
 soulc can never wonder at me as I wonder l at myself.
 a Then she ceased staring into the fire and laid her head back upon the chair in a iIweary way, like tired child. I almost
 thought she had gone to sleep, she was So lqniet, though when I watched her atten- lively could see that her face had grown