Litchfield enquirer., 1873-07-17


 ed likely that might not return to my adopted home for some time. Gisela wept at the tidings, and we spent the last hours before my departure together. Af- ter boyish outburst of feeling on my part, and calm, womanly remonstrance on hers, she allowed me to give her the only treasure had, namely, little coral seal, she bestowing, in return, @ neck-rib- bon. We promised to wr1te to each oth- CT, and to confide in each other when- ever any secret trouble might befall either of us. Then, heart broken, set out on my journey. ..........
 I found my fathers house full of trouble. My elder brothers had not turn ed out we'll One had gone to sea, anoth- CT was loafing about London in idleness, after having tried several professions and failed in all; the third had set off for the diggings in disreputable company and so on. The younger children were as yet in the school-room or nursery. ''You are the only one of my sons whose conduct has been that of a gentleman" my:poor father said to me after the first greetings were over, ''and when die, which must be soon-thanks to the troubles my child ren have brought upon my head-your stepmother will have no other friend"
 In plain words, l was regarded as the fu- ture mainstay of the family. My fathers fortune, never large, had been greatly re- duced by the extravaganza of his elder sons, and it was only with the utmost economy he could afford to continue my studies in England. I worked with will, inspired by Gisela's letters and my fathers appealing confidence. What should hinder Gisela from marrying me? Two or three years past, at the end of which I had creditably run through the curriculum, and saw myself, as thought, fairly launched in an honorable and hap pY career. My father was dead, but my stepmother had received an accession of fortune, and was thus released from the task-which own should have perform ed ungraciously-o supporting my fath- CTS widow and her children. Ahl Theo- dora, we know not what we do when we congratulate ourselves upon having es- capped a hard duty, through so-called happy chance! Sooner or later this cow ardly shrinking from unwelcome alle- glance is sure to be punished by the vain craving after any duty, no matter how mean or common, that lifts us from self and sin.
 sped to Gisela in the first dull days of my freedom, and was warmly welcomed back to my old home. Things had chang ed there very little. The good professor looked hardly day older. The profes- sor's wife wore @ cap of precisely the same pattern as of old. Gretchen, the cook, was not yet married. Bahle, the house. maid, had not yet replaced faithless lover. The Gastzimmer glowed as usual with gay embroidery. The piano stood in it's old place. The dinner prepared in my honor was the well-known birthday dinner of many years. But how was it with Gisela?
 At first thought that she had changed as little as the rest. She ran out to meet me with smiles on her lips, light in her eyes, joy and welcome in her voice. But after time perceived great alteration. When the flush faded from her cheek, and the gladness passed out of her voice, she grew cold and strange, and very sad. ''Wt at is the matter with Gisela?' ask | ed, as soon as I was alone with her moth- l CT.
 The old lady unconcernedly, never once looking up from her knitting, "Oh, I Is1p- pose you take her whims as ailments. | She wears herself out with them, that is all."
 Two or three days passed before got single word with Gisela alone. There was always something to prevent, either company in the house, or an excursion to the country, or musical party at some friends house, to which we all went; Gi- sela outshining, as I thought, her friends and companions as much as in the old days. All this time I noticed that some undefnable, almost inappreciable discord had crept into this once happy family. | Devoted as was to Gisela, could but | confess that she was the cause of all this. Capricious she had ever been, but for merly her capriciousness never wilfully pained any living soul But her unac- l countable behavior now made me ready to believe anything Yet the old charm was as strong as ever, and I persuaded myself that if only Gisela became my wife, | she would return to her former self.
 At last my opportunity came. Gisela and I were alone. told her, very shyly and tenderly, that I had refrained from speaking to her parents till knew what her own feelings were toward me. Was it possible that she could regard her boyish comrade in the light of a lover? For her sake I would willingly give up home and coun- | try, and settle in her own city for the rest of my life. There was nothing would not sacrifice to make her happy.
 ''Nothing?" she asked, looking at me al most wildly. "Are you sure of that, Ed ward. Nothing, g,-nothing?'
 I had reused spirit that could not quell. She wept, laughed, tore her hair, and wrung her hands like one distracted. One moment she begged me never to leave her or forsake her; the next, she begged, nay, commanded me to go out ofher sight at once and forever. My affection was alike her sweetest joy and deepest grief, honey and balm, gall and wormwood. 1 Was this sweet child indeed going mad? the victim of some fearful delusion? There was nothing too dreadful to suspect as she raved on, sometimes Hiding her face in the sofa pillows, at others, kneeling at my knee.
 But the mood passed, leaving her quite calm, and then I saw that it was no de- fusion, but terribly reality that had worked such woful change And no one else had discovered it but I! She wiped away her tears, and, after long story surely the most pitful ever poured into the eears of lover-promised to marry me. Forgive me, my Theodore, for tell ing her story to you. Much oft, of course, I did not hear it then; much of it gath cred for myself afterward; much of it inferred from after-events only.
 Soon after l left Germany. Gisela had secret, unacknowledged lover. Moving in a higher social rank than her own, a diplomatist and courier, handsome, ele- gant, gifted in speech, he was just the person to fascinate an ambitious, and high-spirited girl. His superior social position, his wealth and titles. gave fic- titious value to all these qualities, and made his favors and fatteries doubly al- turing Time wore on, and the pernicious friendship, if, indeed, such tenn can be applied to what was mere selfish passion on the one hand and blind devotion on the other, worked like poison on the girls once sunny nature. She who had been an angel, like you, could not go in- to other company without defilement, and have told you how altered I found her from the Gisela of former days. But hitherto, though too weak to save herself from such hateful bondage, she had re- sisted every persuasion to forsake honor,