Litchfield enquirer., 1873-11-06

ton. He sought for light on it in all the accustomed directions-he ewintered in France to no purpose-he passed the next winter in Rome, with no better success. IA summer in Switzerland, and another in northern Europe served him no farther and at the end of two years he went home. 1 just as puzzled and uncomfortable man as when he sailed away from New York.
 Meantime Miss Sturgis had been think ing. Would a lover who loved her have staid away two years? When he had ask l ed her to go with him, had it not been with make-the-best-of-it air?
 These thoughts were in her mind when he returned to her, and asked her if, at | last, she were ready to name the wedding day.
 She looked at him with curious ex- pression of inquiry, just touched, or at least he thought so, with scorn. ''This IS sweetly courteous of you, am l sure," she said, in her cold, clear tones; 'sbut want to understand you perfectly l-do you ask me to be your wife because 1 you love me with love that would choose me out of all the world; or because, after our understanding in the past, honor con strains you?"
 ''It is late in the day to ask that ques- tion," he said, with what indignant man hood he could summon, s'now that you have been my promised wife four years. |" 1 She smiled-a smile which promised l him no consolation.
 "Well, I will change the conditions, then. I am no longer your promised wife. withdraw every pledge ever made you. | Now, if you seek me, it must be afresh You have thought me cold woman; but | tell you that any man would marry me at his peril who could not give me the l uttermost love of his heart. It would be treason could never forgivs-I should be inexorabIe as death. Do not speak one word more to me of marriage, unless you know, in your soul, that you love me with devotion that is absolute, exclusive and for all time"
 He had never come so -near doing just | this thing as at that moment. The keen | excitement of her mood had breathed l life into this seeming statue. Her eyes shone with new fire. A brilliant scar let glowed on her cheeks. There were new tones in her well-bred voice. He had never found her so intoxicating. I think he would have thrown himself at her feet, but that he feared her. Possi- bly, also. he feared himself It may be l that he had self-knowledge enough to un-
 
 mood was over, and she had gone back to her old graceful and gracious repose, she would fail to satisfy him, as she did be- 1 fore. With Bessie forever blirhe and l bonny and beguiling in his memory, dare he swear that he loved Margaret absolute ly, exclusively, and for all time? He rose and bowed courteously. ''You have chosen" he said, ''for what reason I am unable even to conjecture, to break the bonds that bound us-to cast l doubts upon feeling you seemed in oth- days to find satisfactory. Against such caprice l am not skilled or patient enough to contend. will not torment you with entreaties-you shall be as you have cho- sen, mistress of your own future" He made his exit with dignity, as he thought. Her eyes followed him with a smile half scornful and wholly sad ''So go four years of Q lifetime, 1" she said to herself.
 The very next afternoon found Mir. Phelps in Riverside. The image. of Bss- 1 sic had taken on new charms, now that to l win her seemed possible. One woman had weighed him the balance and found him wanting. There would be sweet and l full amends Tn the greeting of this less | judicial charrner, who had never seemed l disposed even to criticise him. He found | cruel consolation in remembering the 1 swift pallor that had overspread her face when he showed her Miss Sturgis's pie ture. All through his hurried journey he had been picturing to himself the sweet ness of her welcome. How the young cheeks would crimson, the dewy eyes gleam and glow, the sweet mouth trem- ble That there would be any difficulty 1>1I ~f> ,S,,f,k l., 1oA,. I ST dead even, never once occurred to him. Two years had gone by, bringing change and experience to him, as was natural but she-surely she must be still just that same half-opened rosebud of girl-like flower in a picture that
 'biddeth fair to blossom soon. But it never. never blossoms in this picture, and the moon
 Never ceases to be crescent, and the June is always June !'
 He went to see her at about the same hour on which he had seen her first. He knew the household ways. They would be through tea-the Doctor would have gone out-she would be alone. He would have the long twilight, the sweet summer evening, in which to make her happy, to sun himself in her soft joy. He half thought he should find her in the door, as he had seed her stand so often. white robed and fair. But he saw no one when he drew neor the house. For the first time he teought, t'what if she were dead!' and shivered, as he knocked at the door. A new servant answered his summons, and his inquiry whether Miss Bessie was l in. ,f. s-a.sdt s .
 He sent up his card, and then waited for her in the parlor below, his heart beat as no woman had ever made it beat be- fore. She looked at the bit of paste board, and smiled. He had come again, l then-this man who held her heart in the hollow of his hand, that other summer, and played with an pitied it. 'with a poor-thing negligence ]" She took sheet of paper, and wrote on it
 "Do not come tonight will tell you l why, tomorrow. l This she gave to her maid, with few words of direction; and then looking a moment in the glass-for who does not adjust his armor before going into battle -she went down stairs.
 She was not quite the Bessie Waiter Phelps had expected to see. yet he could not have defined the change. Certainly she was not less beautiful If anything, her sparkling, changeful face had gained in charm. But there was an added self possession in her manner-a new pride in l voice and gesture This was not girl for any man to love and ride away. Nor, sincere as was his purpose. did he find it easy to tell her for what he had come. She had some new power over herself and others. She chose, for while, to keep the conversation on indifferent subjects. She wished to take fresh sense of this hero, whose star had once ruled the heavens Ito see, with matured powers of percep- ton, what manner of man he was. Would
 he be able to stir her pulses with any oi the old thrill ? She thought not-but he
 might try, if he chose; it would be well
 that she should be altogether sure of her self. u $ 5 So at last she let him ask the question
 for the sake of which he had come He
 was too much in earnest, now. for dainty gallantries. He asked her in a few blair uardc fl, fo hia vyi fo. and .aho oncwaro1