Connecticut western news., 1872-09-13
SALISBURY, CONN.,, FRIDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER

longed to tell you many causes for being a changed man, as mother says I am
 ''I knew l could trust you with this She is old I wish to keep all thorns and hindrances from her path. She could not understand you can an6 will"
 With a quick motion peculiar to hei when vexed, the girl threw up her hands and covered her face.
 70, David, please don't. If it's any thing bad I don't want to know it; you don't know, David, how many things there are to worry me-little things could never feel like talking to any one. So please, David, don't tell me- I am sure to prove not worthy of your con fidence-at least another time-not now I feel as though tonight could not bear another jot."
 David gently put out large brown hand, and, dncovering the girls face, looked into the blue eyes with a new and expressive sorrow down deep in his own.
 "Marian, has any thing gone wrong anew ? hope you don't mind mother folks at her time of life require forbear ance. Your life is all before you, you know"
 Marian looked out to the west where the black shadows lay, and almost wished that all the years which were to be, had been known and passed.
 ''I have no complaint to make of your mother, David, she has been the only woman friend I have ever known ; she has not understood me, perhaps, l b17f ho+ l, don't know what it is that makes me so but feel that I should love to go away from here-at least for little tine.''
 ''Go away from Rye Fields - home without Marian p
 David's hands dropped nerveless at his side. After all these years, he be- lieved that if he spoke then she could almost find it Tn her heart to hate him and so he kept silent.
 It was not possible that anything he might say could make change in her. What had he to offer against that gay world from which such as Miss Fol lingsbie came down into peaceful coun- try places, sowing ambition and discon- tent
 Goodnight, Marian. You had bet ter not stay out; the dew is falling now" And he was gone.
 Marian went slowly up the homeward path, thinking that if she had permitted David to speak he would have told her of a hopeless passion, as 8 man could 1 tell any woman friend whom he knew to be disinterested, about a passion for another woman.
 Marian did not doubt all this, and her heart held a new ache as she went softly up the stairs to her own little chamber, and lay on her white bed very still un- der the palhd moonlight, and went back step by step over the eighteen years of her life, seeing in many things changes she should have made.
 Early in September, when the bar berries and shumachs stood scarlet through the long, dry days, and the rye breaking up at the old farm house. Miss Follingsbie went back to the city, taking the happy Marian, whose ecstacy she had grown paler day by day with some hidden thing. Miss Follingsbie promised to assist her in many ways first, she was to remain with her as com panion or in no capacity at all, as long as she liked after that, they would see. She might return to Rye Fields perhaps if she choose. Things went on much the same apparently at the old place, mornings, moons, and nights, over and over, until the maple leaves were bitten and red, and the little garden, where the hollyhocks and entrants had blossomed and grown, was barren desert.
 Mrs. Higgins, in her checked apron, swept, dusted and baked, finding as much fault in the absent Marian as when she had been under her eye and hand.
 The greatest change was visible in David. His color was quite gone; he had fallen into the habit of walking for hours alone in the short evenings, con- ing home in the edge of night, going to bed without any supper, and rising at daylight to begin again hard work. scarcely speaking a word to any one.
 "Well, if I didn't know Dav1d better and there ain't single girl abont that he makes up to, I'd sartin and sure think the lad might be Iii love.
 An awful thought flashed through the good lady's mind, and she allowed the gray woolen stocking she was knitting to fall il great tangle on the stone hearth.
 "Well, I never. shouldn't wonder, now, if Dav1d Higgins warn't grievin his appetite away about that city girl, Miss Follingsbie. I rally believe it, though should have thought David a man of more sense than to banker after a woman that never gave him a thought. He'll get over it, and it'll do him good. '
 Still David went his way and made nc sigh, yea or nay.
 70, dear Miss Follingsbie, how much I owe to you without your aid I might nev, have known any thing more aboui myself. To think had friends, kindred and fortune waiting for me, and I SC near all these years and not to know ot it. How strangely things come about A something compelled me to leave Rye Fields all at once. I wonder if it was what is called fate.
 "I shouldn't wonder, dear," Miss Fol lingsbie said, with smile at her young friends enthusiasm.
 By the y, Marian, speaking of Rye Fields, l inst remember that friend O. mine down that way now, who knew spent last summer there, writes me thai the place is to be sold away from youl friends. It seems it is the foreclosine of a mortgage or something like it Young Higgins Ca fine, sturdy fellow ht was,) has fallen into ill-health, and { great change has come to them. an sorry indeed, to hear it.'' Rye Fields to be sold
 Poor David, and he had so 1abored tt make his home. Then, that foresha ! ! dowed trouble was perhaps what he hae meant to tell her that night, and sh would not hear him. Cruel, ungratefu Marian, David had been such frienc to her.
 Marian (our little girl whom we frs saw behind the barberry bush in a pinl