Litchfield enquirer., 1873-08-21

Ns@-ACs SA@C0 u6 began. l 1ee1 sure. now. thas she knew, from the commencement. shat he was speaking of himself; but it Eas only when he said, ssI was the man. '' That her face, which had been white to esile lips, flushed scarlet, as though the threatened blow had fallen: and sueh a look came over it-a look of pain inut- terable, of bitter shame, of unconouera- Die disgust; a look which, but to see once in the face of the woman we love. might veil make the voice break and the heart sink, as Ducie's d1d then.
 1t was still there when he ceased to speak, and she rose up, calm and cold. as If nothing had been said which could call for comment from her: and. simply ob- serving that it must be time to prepare for dinner, left the room, without a glance Towards either of us. I strode after her. meaning to call her back and ask her to say kind word to Ducie, but she put out her hands with an imploring gesture. and. turning her face away, ran up stairs. When I returned, slowly and awkwardly. 70 the library, Ducie, also, had left 1t by the other door. I was not sorry.
 We all met, at dinner, as If nothing was amlss. Mary Jackson and were, I think. rather more lively than usual, and even
 
 Devereux that my dear old father said it did him good to hear such a clatter of voices. Ducie was very silent, 1t is true. and Helen's face was colorless as Guern- sey daisy; but she spoke, and even smiled, whenever appealed to: and none but myself remarked that when Ducie held the door open for the ladies after dinner, she drew the silken folds of her dress together, and passed him without 8 glance, as something too foul for notice. Hls lace was winter than hers when he sat down again.
 : Next day we parted. was busy all the morning over farming accounts, and did not know Ducie was going till the dog cart was at the door, and he came in to bid me good-bY. Then I saw he was much agitated, and urged him to stay. using Helen's name. His lips quivered, but he only said,
 e1 have already seen your cousin. Good-by, Fred. and thank you for all your kindness"
 Five minutes later he was gone. said nothing, but went to look for Helen, and found her moping in the library, with a face like 2 ghost, and red rims to her eyes. She mumbled something about a headache. I waived the remark, loftily, and taxed her with having refused my friend. She reddened like a rose, and said. haughtily, that she had done no such thing. He had not had the preaqmp= tion to ask her.
 ..Presgnptionia quoth |, land to ask a little vixen! An, well, you have sent him away; and, what's more, you will never gee him againi''
 At this she paled and panted little, then flushed up again, and answered,
 ''Oh yes, we shall, and quite as soon as we want him, l dare say. Oh, how can you care for hims-the cruel, dastardly- Oh- -
 rms made me angry, for don't like hitting man when he's down; and the vision of poor Ducie's handsome face. with the haggard, beaten look on it, as he shook his head to all my hospitable hopes of soon seeing him again, rather haunted me. So set myself to bully Heles hy way of retaliation; told her she was proud, self-riphteQus girl, who didn't deserve tn be loved at all; that she had, probably, aent a fine youngafellow to the bad; that she had no right to judge that if Ducie had aate5:. cow ards part, two years ago, he had taksn 8 hefos. IsSsts night; that doubted very ".dch, whether she would have had the courage to stand up and 'blacken herself, forever, in the eyes of any one she loved; that couldn't; and, that 1t was braver and nohler deed than saving ten mems lives
 Would you believe it? In the middle of my abuse she suddenly burst into tears, and. instead of quarreling with me, throws herself into my arms, and sobs out:-
 ''Oh, Fred! SO 1t was. Oh! I never thought of that; and I told him-I told him Oh dear! oh dearl'
 What did you tell hims9
 '1 told him neseE wished to see him again. hedause he could never do anything brave enough to blot out the memory of that dreadful. dreadful day"
 ''And what did he say?'
 "He said, 'FYou never shall" Oh, Fred, Fred! what shall do?"
 ''Do? WrIte and tell h1m you are very sorry, anI ask him to come back again, .a piece of sensible advice, at which Helen spring up, dashes away her tears. and says, indignantly, "Thank you, Fred, I have not yet lost my self respect, yet, even if your friend has lost his, !" and marches off to her own room.
 went back to my accounts, and finish- ed them. Days and weeks slipped by. Our house was hardly empty before I was of, myself, on visit to the home of ny beloved. Then the hunting season began; the hall was again filled with guests, and in the constant roand of sport, merriment and excitement, I must confess that the little incident concerning Ducie's depart ure escaped my mind. Neither did mo- tice the change in Helen's looks, and how rapidly she was losing her color, flesh and spirits. till she looked like the shadow of her former self. You see. she never lost her prethness; and then, a certain little maid was spending her Christmas with us, and that, in itself, was reason for not be- ing particularly observant of other wo- mans appearance.
 Was it the day before Christmas-eve that the governor told me lord de Laine had proposed to Helen. and been refused? I think so-Tm not sure. Anyway, it was that day that first noticed the girls white face, and spoke to her of Ducie. Her sweet eyes flashed up instantly, and she answered,
 .eWould you like to have him here this Christmas?" ..s
 My dear, you told him never to come again.
 ssThen was wrong, for it is not my house," hypocriticallyD
 You are the mistress of 1t. and I'll have no friends here whom the mistress cannot welcome -3' ' 'A z She blnshed up high, put her hand on my arm, and said, enthusiastically
 stAn your friends are welcome to me, Fred. Please write and ask him at once. 9 . I did 50. Shall ever forget her face when the answer came? Mir. Ducie had sailed for the Cape three days before, in the royal mail steamship Tamar. We all know the end of that good yes sel; how she encountered hard weather of the Azores; how she sprung a leak which no pumping day and night could bring under; how the boats were hoisted out with just enough seamen to work the oars. the passengers lowered into them one by one, women and children first, men afterward, in perfect discipline and order; and how, when all were full, the captain, standing on the poop-deck, gave the last