Litchfield enquirer., 1871-11-02

honse, whose paradlsiaral poinfg VI had not learned; and that eTeIsing it stafme8 so We had been reduced to the verge 0f tears, and he was S very gay and hearted, u otsss sheer n ism. 1 always fancy that the children of old families are like pools of long -stanl- ing water oil dark, dreary days, and the stagnant current takes a wonderful and turbid tuInult, and emits all its subtle ma- laria. Arria and l agreed that our late visitor would be an excellent watchdog: but as for our ideal, knightly, romantic l lover, neyeri And then we went to sleep in our separate rooms, and since young girls have q dozen freaks before there comes the fated fairy prince, l dare say she dreamed about him ali night long.
 One day we were, i'll the customary man ner, abandoned to our own devices. Ar ria, as usual, was turning over the stiff old cestumes-she always had quota of in I nocent vanity-and I was sitting with a music-b book, which had brought from the music-room, in my lap, before the one portrait III the drawing-rOOm. 1t was that of some lovely woman, pale and dark ] eyed, and with a sweet face that seemed to exhale fragrance like crushed flow CT. It was old now and faded; so was she wondered what perfect creature she had been when young and gay-for we all, we Trefetheness, had singular beauty-and why 1t was the only picture nay uncle d. lowed in the drawing room 1 used to sit and try to spell out the story of those soft brown eyes that seemed tremulOus with tears-that creamy pallor, that sad, sickly smile; 1t had fascination that with or against my will brought me perpetually before 1t; and just now this book of Ital- ian songs, full of pensiye yoluptuousness, blossoms with stinging flies in them, rich slrups that left a vile tang on the tongue, songs like soft September days, too rich and mellow, when all the air Is full of res- lnous balm and faint sweet decay, when BIl sTEssfIsr IafcKE EIIi. stems, ann 4seA l leaves float down one by one, ripe and rotton on sodden ground; just now this book of one too luscious strain had sent me afresh to study the silent face, as if it were key to it's strange spell. So l wheeled up lounge, and sitting thera, sir- veyed it.
 ''Ah yes, said voice beside lie, II see you've got that bee in your bonnet. There never was Trefetheness that hadn't. It's we'll you take it early; it comes hard CT later i'll life, like many necessary dis eases Taken young, it's well got over. ," I thought he was laughing, but turning, found him perfectly grave. Miss, your cousin, has never no- ticed it yet, believe?'' he said ''No''
 And you have, often ?
 ssYes.''
 ''So did when I first came The beauti- ful, beautiful face!-It is so much the worse for her--your cousin-Arlia, is it, that l you call her.? This picture is the fnte. 1 of the Trefetheness. Of the women, l nIeuu and tho men ffrJf their fate in thena Do you know that no Trefetheness has ever married quite out of his family No? And that none of our ladies ever did with out breaking the heart of Trefetheness i? 1 No, again? Curious little facts ill natur- al history
 ''But you are the only Trefetheness re- maining and I must pull caps for you remain single or break your heart? ? Nonsense Where did you pick mp such l a world of family love?'
 s.Here and there But chiefly through the interest inspired by that face. And I beg you not to trouble yourself and Aria; the entail breaks i'll the last of a race. For my part, I am not inclined to inten- sify our already too vivid characteristics | by further intermarriage. ! | SuDEOSc l WdS u llbblo IOOl, IcuIlf 1 felt offended.
 "Pray remit sentence, said he smiling, as did not reply. ''But not being in the habit of meeting many ladies, l speak too plainly, perhaps, to those whom l do meet
 ''You are not improving matters" I said.
 | s'No Wellyou forgive me? We are such small family we can't afford to 1 quarrel"
 l 'I don't know what you call us family for we are hardly relatives at all' Hardly But we had the same great grand father, not to mention again the of- fensive fact that Trefetheness second cous- ins have become by previously constant intermarriage, nearer to each other than most first cousins.
 s'Then Trefetheness first cousins are sisters and brothers Trefetheness sisters | and brothers are the same person, said, and laughed. s'You and l, for instance, who haven't trait in common. You are No matter. am what that lady was when she was twenty
 "No; we mag have nothing either in mind or body alike-no constitutional con- nection that proves us both to be sound specimens out of an unsound race. But I am not sure of that. However, I dare say we both should find all our weak traits in Miss Arria if we tried. Don't be angry, it's a mere physiological question-not at all matter for feeling"
 'How proud, after all, we Trefetheness are of our family!'
 s'A silly pride, contemptible, and base less (it's well that Maurice don't hear me, by-the-way } but no more to be hindered than the heart that beats; it is the very blood that makes it beat, and is too thoroughly in-kneaded. Yes, you aremuch 1 like Saint Agnes Trefetheness. l ''Was that her name?"
 I .sAgnes, yes saint is work of supe- rerogation she didn't need the title And yet saint she is, and yet she fell.'' | "A Trefetheness fall ]"
 '.A Trefetheness fell And Trefethe- ness fell with her"
 'What did you mean by saying the wo- men of the family who married out of it broke the heart of Trefetheness?" in- quired after little. My mother, and Arria's mother-whose hearts did they break"
 ssMiss Arria g mother had her romance short and sufficiently dreadful When she eloped her father was so excited with amaze and anger that he died at once, and his heart was found to beliterary broken, I believe. My father was your mothers suitor, and on her marriage with her sis ters brother-in-law, he in pique and haste, married my mother, who had loved him long and intensely He cared trifingly for her, it may be, and perhaps owe my healthy organization to that-she herself owned such an infinitesimal fraction of the sacred blood. I am very like my I mother. You are very What a pity that your name is not Trefetheness! My father died shortly after his marriage and before my birth: died of grief-as the Trefetheness are capable of doing. Now are you satisfied?"
 ssWill you tell me St Agness story9a He took seat on the other side of the lounge, burying his elbow among the I round cushions, and looking over my shoulder at the music book, so that I must still half turn my head to see him. A