Litchfield enquirer., 1873-11-06

1 strong 6A0ugh 10 tell xs*sSa i sThe. smiracle' is Walter Phelps, 1 name. at your service. and only tes l of so easy an opportunity to sasn yoak ] thanks. am staying at tlae hotel, near
 by, and will call to-morrow, if may, to ] see whether the adventure has had any
 more serious consequences than appear
 at present.
 ssThe more often we see you the better, 2 his host answered with cordial hospitalf- 1 ty, and Phelps fancied that Miss Bessie's reyes seconded the invitation
 Papa is forgetting to tell you that he
 is Dr. Crandall, ]" she said,. as ahei bade
 him good night; s'tte only doctor in the 1 place, and you've done. a good many peo-
 pie service, when you kept his bones whole. ,.-s =
 l So Fate had been, was it kind or un- | kind-only the future can say which-to 1 Walter Phelps; or let us call it indulgent.
 He walked back through the moonlight l to his hotel, in 8 mood of mild self-cOn-
 graduation. She was certainly. girl they were family-on whom no imper-
 tinent intrusion would have been tolera-
 ted. He might have staid in Riverside all summer. angling in vain for the open ing which destiny and his own steel-like
 muscles had made for him tonight. He
 was born under & lucky star. But just there conscience pricked him, and asked ! question. he could, not evade. Why did he want to know this Bessie Cfandall- l what could she be to himAwhy should
 he seek her? He stood still. and answer ed the inquiry-answered 1t all the more | defantly becouse he knew he was wrong. '1 want to know. her just for pastime- and why not? Are men and women like 1 finder and flint that they cannot meet l without falling in love? In this dull place any interest is blessing. No doubt shall. entertain Miss Crandall, as much as her beauty will please me; and when the summer IS over 1t will be. autumn all the same, whether we have amused our selves or been bored.'' s
 Mir. Phelps went down late to breakfast, the next morning, and found himself hero. Dr. CrandaH had driven by, and stopped to tell the landlord the story of his rescuer Phelps had saved. from acci- dent the most popular man in the village and the village was determined to make l much of him He did not go over to Dr.
 Crandall's until afternoon-he would not be in haste, or intrusive. The Doctor was not at home-possibly he had counted on this ill timing his visit-but Bessie re- ceived him with satisfying welcome.
 ''I took it lightly last night" she said,
 ''but never slept all night for thinking how easily he might have been killed; and he is all have ill the world.
 Walter Phelps begged her not to humil- fate him by too much gratitude for ser vice which cost him nothing beyond a momentary exertion of strength; but her thanks and praises were very pleasant, nevertheless He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her critically, from under half closed lids. She was a Iady. certainly. His cousin Margaret was no more entirely weH-bred-but how differ ent they were-as different as ice and fire. flesh and marble. Bessie was slight and lissome and girlish of figure. She had great, dusky eyes, out of which the childs eagerness had not yet faded, though the woman's longing and passion were iii them too. Her hair was dark, with soft rip- pie in 1t. Her features were plauant. rather than regnlaf-the broad, sunny brow, the nose notlquite straight, the sen satiye, sweet mouth, the clear dark skin, the rounded cheeks where the color came and went-you could not ask for anything brighter or lovolier, or yet more different from the absolute perfection of Miss Mar garet Sturgis, not one line of whose clas- sic face an artist would have ventured to criticise.
 Their manners were as unlike as their faces. Both were perfectly refined, but Miss Sturgis had the aplomb and self-pos- session, the unvarying calmness and re- pose which come only of careful training and wide social experience Bessie. on the other hand, was sTayed by her impul- ses, as a butterfly is blown by a summer wind. These impulses, however, being always pure and sweet, the moods of a woInanly and gracious soul, the result was quits as charming as the more reason able department of a colder woman. Un- consciously all these comparisons drifted through the young mans mind Miss Sturgis was the woman whom, aside from his mother and sisters, he had seen most of his life, and of whom he had almost unknowingly made a standard of compar- ison for all other women. Bessie was so curiously unlike her that there was a charm in this new study. To do him justice, he pursued it faith fully. osH He pretended to be there for trout fishing; but the trout had little to fear. There was always Q reason for going to see Bessie Crandall, which would not ad- init of delay. He sent to town for books and music--and one by one he must take them to her. He had . tenor voice. fall of dexibility and sweetness, and he sang to her while she played his accompani-
 ments. If hewent fishing, she must go to show him the way. None of these pro ceedings disturbed Dr. Crandall The manner in which their acquaintance be- gan had made the Doctor friendly. He was glad to make the return of cheerful and cordial hospitality. As for Bessie, it never occurred to him that she was in any danger. If it had been suggested, he would have said that he knew Bessie, and she wasn't the girl to fancy every acquain- tance @ lover, or to lose her heart until somebody asked forit.a9daHfG yi3aog In this last he would have been right;
 but there are more ways of asking than one. Walter Phelps spoke no word of love, but the songs he sang were tender with some passionatelold poets, devotion and longing books he gave her were daily eagerness to See her, told her more plainly than words how pleasant he found | her society. She combined in her nature | the fervor of a woman and the honest sim plicity of child She was too inexperi- enced to ask herself why he did notspeak
 it was sufficient for her that he acGs. Her heart had been like a tight-closed rosebud when he came; and it's petals
 were opening already to the warmth of
 this new summer, of which he was the | sun. -ss1sf*9"@
 Meantime, he, poor fellow, was not 1 quite comfortable in his mind. This ac- quaintance had not been lesa pleasant
 than he imagined it would be-but it was
 growing too serious. Not that Bessie had
 in the slightest degree thrown herself at his head She was too delicate women i-too shy beneath her frankness-for any
 thing like that. To save his life he could
 not tell whether she cared for him or not,
 and he was beginning to long ardently
 to know. Yet it was question that he
 must not ask; and he began to see that
 from asking it he could find no decent. not to say chivalrous, escape. If he had
 been wooing Bessie Crandal for his wife,
 he could hardly have done more or other
 than he had been doing for nearly six F weeks past And now his family were