Litchfield enquirer., 1874-05-28

 waiting for her. You see, it could all go. on quietly enough. I should see her here a great deal. I set my Son down as utterly abnorm- al, and think | Idisiked him for a min Eute, but I Iremembered his mether,s losss. ing pride in him as little child, and re- tented.
 ''Have you any reason for expecting that Dorothy will accept your' I inquired
 "He leaned back comfortably, put his hands in his pockets, and said; ''Not ex- actlY; but l do not see why she should not: she is very fond of us all. At any rate, will let you know as soon as I get an answer"
 With that he seemed to consider the conference over, and that he was at liber- l ty to leave the room. I was glad when he has gone. Ipuzzled myself very much as to how Dorothy would act-not as to whether she would accept Charles-it l never occurred to me to discuss that with l myself. Would she tell her mother? Un- deniably, she would wish to do so, for she was openess itself; but she would be un- willing to annoy Charles, because he was my son, if for no other reason. Would she write to me? or would her father or mother write? Unless they sent special messenger-and they guarded conscien- tiously against needless small expenses there could be no letter till the third day. In the interval, there was no perceptible change in Charles ways, except that he was constrained when we were alone. I imagined that he feared should renew the subject, but l was not at all inclined to do that. l had discovered great gulf, l cd IoL I and myself. My life was placed in new groove, and did not-perphaps never l would-run easily in it, and that odious gossip had given the first impetus. I be- l ieve my hands trembled little when I unlocked the post-ba on that third morn l ing. There was no letter for Charles, but a note from Mrs. Dalton, asking me to call as soon as could. gave it to him l without a remark. He put it in his l pocket, and did not read it in the room. Soon after breakfast I walked to Furze- ham. Dora came to me ill the little study, 1 and again felt how changed was. Up to that time we had held out both hands | mutually and simultaneously, and I had kissed her as heartily and naturally as if 1 she had been Anna; now, my own secret consciousness made that impossible, and the something unexpressed by me, or something which did not fathom ill her, held back.
 Coloring and looking distressed, she gave me one hand, saying Ut was very good of you to come so soon, but I ! thought you would
 made an effect to be playful, and re. 1 joined: "You know I have utterly spoiled you. kitten!'
 The smile this evoked was poor pitt | ful spectre.
 "Come, went on; T know why you sent 1 for me, so you need not worry yourself about how to begin. Charles had told me. |" ''Oh! I am so glad. But why did he not do so before he wrote to me? It would have saved me great unhappiness. I do uot know if ought have kept his secret, though I should have felt quite guilty hiding anything, especially such thing, from mamma; but I could not. The let ter was taken to her, and, of course, she has always opend and read my letters as 'Ruite right; the longer she. does so the better. Charles had no right to make l such request. I am surprised that he did not know better
 "But am sorry to have done anything disagreeable to any of you. am so fond of Anna; and you have always, always been so kind to me-"
 s'There is no harm whatever done, Dorothy; circumstances helped you out of a difficulty, ,as they often do help the inno- | cent"
 ''Then we were both silent. I saw she wanted to go on. but did not know how; and, for myself, had a sort of fear of what I should hear-but helped her: "Well, Pussy asked, ''what are you going to say to Charles?''
 "I do not know," and she looked miserable.
 "I have always thought you were very clear in your views, and distinct in stat ing them.'
 "Yes; know my own mind quite we'll; but-,' She stopped, and seemed about l to cry. I do not know what to do,' she went on.
 "Do you mean that you do not know whether you like Charles we'll enough to accept him or not?"
 "Ono; but there are so many difficult ies." This was said hardly above her breath.
 "Do you mean the long engagement, and so on?'
 ''She blushed with vexation, and ans- wered; o dear! no. But am so afraid of hurting your feelings, or displeasing you. do so wish 1t had never happen ed.''
 "But, my dear child what could there be displeasing to me, or injurious to my feelings, in your being attached to my son? I think it would be an indirect com pliment to me-"
 She hardly let me finish, but spoke very earnestly.
 "Did you ever think that T.. No; I you never can have supposed that; you must have been as much surprised as i was. If any thing of that kind had been l going on, l must have been the most de- ceitful creature possible; but am afraid of your thinking that Charles would not have asked me, if I.had not encouraged him. l am sure should say so of any one in my circumstances. I hope the les son will make me very charitable. I have really never thought about Charles at all It no more entered my head that he thought about me in that way than that you did,
 winced. She had been speaking so fast that could not get in word. was sitting in what they called humorously her fathers easy chair; she was opposite. on low seat. leaning forwarde with her little hands clasped in her lap, her pretty warm brunette complexion heightened, her eyes sparkling, her countenance express ing what she was trying to put in words
 ''Dorothy, said, 'tyou will grieve me very much, If you imagine for one moment that it would be possible for me to doubt | your candor. am sure you were as much surprised as I was. To tell you the truth, my dear little girl, never gave Charles credit for so much good taste, and 1t had never even entered my head to think of his marrying all. '' -..,. | She looked, however, only partially re- ieved when she returned:' T am glad you understand mel hope you always will. ,
 ''And is that all you have to say to me, Dora?"
 'sNo; I want to know what am to do?''
 ''That must depend entirely on your own feelings. am quite as anxious for your happiness as for my own children. Do you love Charley?' She only replied by tears: and | began to consider if she