Litchfield enquirer., 1871-06-15

eagerly. "It could not be any one else."
 '''Pon my word. ssid she. staring at me. : I think you had better go and mar ry him yourself"
 1T? Oh. Gracier' said I, starting up and sitting down again, and beginning to cry.
 "I wanted to tell you that I am going to America
 You may be sure we talked no more about Donnell that night.
 Donnell did not fail to keep his word about giving me feast before left the country. He invited three pipers to play, and half the country side to dance. Oracle ana I met at the cross-yards, and walked over to the farm together, she bringing a troop of beaux with her from the town. The farm is dear old place, with orchard trees growing up round the house. and it looked homely that frosty night. Donnell's mother met us at the door, and unpinned our shawls in her own room. Oracle look ed beautiful in new dress and bright rib bon. Donnells mother stroked my hair with her hand, and stuck bit of holly in the front of her black frock. She kept me with her after Gracie had gone down stairs, holding my hand, and asking me about go ing 10 America. And the place felt so safe and warm, and she was so kind and moth erly, after what was accustomed to at home, that my heart got so sore I could scarcely bear it. z
 We had great tea drinking in the par Tor, and then we went out to the kitchen, and the pipers fell to work, and Gracio was as amiable as possible to Donnell. But just in the middle of our danci ng the latch of the back door was lifted. and Squire Hannah walked in, in his top boots.
 |" I wanted to speak to you on business, Mcdonnell" he said, 'but will not dis turb you now"
 "Will you do us the honor of joining us, sir?" said Donnell
 Squire Hannah needed no second invi- tation. He was soon making his bow be fore Gracie, and Donnell saw no more of her smiles that night. She danced with the Squire until it was time to go home, and then, after she had set out for the town, escorted by him and her other beaux, Donnell's mother kissed me, and Donnell drew my arm through his, and walked home with me across the snowy fields to my step. mothers house. He was abusing Gracie all the way, and was as usual. taking her part.
 He came to see me one day soon after, and brought me basket of lovely winter pears. He leaned against the wall and watched me making the butter. He was disgusted with Gracie, he said; she was a firt, and he did not care fig about her, only he would not be made fool of. She had refused to let him walk with her across the hills next Sunday, to the consecration of the new church, and if he did not get some token that she had changed her mind between that and this, he would never. he swore. look at her again, but go and marry some one else, for spite.
 "Oh, no. Donnell." said ! :. promise me you wouT do rnaty7 For was sure that Gracie liked him all the while.
 "But I will," said he, smiling; !" at least, if other people will have me-"
 "Oh, don't, don'tr' said I; but he would not promise.
 x, It's my mind," said my stepmother, After he was gone, ''that yon lads more like lover of yours than hers. Why don't you catch him, and then you needn't go to America?"
 Mother!' cried I, and felt the room spinning around with me, till caught and held on by the door.
 "WelI, well." she said. ''you needn't look so mad. Many girld be glad of him."
 thought great deal about how he had sworn that he would marry some one eIse if he did not hear from Gracie before Sun- day. 'I am sure she likes him." I thought; '' she cannot help it. She must have seen how mean even Squire Hannon looked be- side him the other night. And it would be most dreadful thing if he was married to some one else he did not care about; if she went of to London with a broken heart, to a "West End" milliner. I though about it, and thought about it. There was no use going to Oracle, for sine would only laugh and mock at me. At once bright idea broke into my head.
 was afraid to think of what was going to do; but that night, when my stepmother had gone to bed, leaving me spinning some wool, got out sheet of paper and little note of Gracie's which had in my work box, and began to initiate Gracie's hand writing. I had not much trouble, for we wrote nearly alike; and afterwards con- posed little letter:
 "Dear Mir. McDonnell," it said, " I have changed my mind, and will be very glad if you will join me on the road to the conse. cration on Sunday.
 Yours, sincerely,
 GRACE BYRNE.
 '.What harm can it do to send it?'' thought l, trembling all the while, I folded it up and put4t in an envelope directed to Mr. Donnell M'Donnell, The Buckley Farm. "Aud it may do such deal of good! In the first place, it will prevent his marrying for spite before Sunday, and then she will be so glad to see him coming, in spite of her crossness she will be quite kind to him. He is always so stiff and proud when she treats him badly, that I am sure it makes her worse. She will never find out that he got the letter-not, at least till they are quite good friends married, perhaps-and then they will both thank me"
 So the next evening, about dusk, I slipped quietly into the town and posted my letter. Twas dreadfully afraid of meet ing Donnell and Gracie; but saw no one I knew. I dropped the note in the letter box and rushed of toward home again at full speed. I ran nearly all the way; the snowy roads were slippery in the evening frost, aud near our house I fell and hurt my foot A neighbor found me leaning against the stile and brought me home. l was to have sailed for America the very next week, but now I was laid up with a sprained ankle, and my departure was put off.
 On Sunday evening, neighbor who had been at the consecration came to tell us the news: this one had been there of course, and that one had been there for wonder.