Litchfield enquirer., 1874-12-03
From Harper's Magazine.l .'0MTAEC CIRCUlT."'

| S@eC E0AD1k1 0ROu At-dktU iOdu1uR ldItAOL
 over the low gate, looked in troubled,
 road. It was d hot summer day, and so .l ths road looked especially white and
 dnsty. It was far too hot to be pleasant, Desiree thought. The roses in the garden
 seem to burn upon the bushes; those
 climbing upon the arch over the gate act
 aaily famed and panted when faint
 breath of air touched them: at least this
 was Desiree's fancy about them; but then
 the truth was, Desiree was not quite her self flis afternoon. She had been happy l enough this morning when she had risen. 1 Life had looked different matter to her then. She had gone to her small win- l dow and thrown it open with an indrawn heavy and wet with fragrant dew; the thick long grass had sparkled with it, the carnations and sweet old-fashioned clove- pinks had worn crowns of it, the bluebirds | and swallows had seemed to shake 1t from their joyou wings. And Desiree, f leaning from her bedroom window, and drawing In that ecstatic morning breath, had felt the fine, subtle influence of dew and sweet air, fragrance and song of birds, actually tinghng inner young veins. l 1 will finish my work carly" she had said softly to herself "I will have the churning over and the house tidy in good time, so that I can dress as soon as dinner 1 IS out of the way. And then, with sigh 1 of innocent anticipation, 'sI shall have all the rest of the day to herself if he comes; and he said he would Besides, didn't Bart give it out in meeting?" Sha had arranged her own room for the day before going down stairs; it was so early that she had time to do 1t. And af- | ter she had set everything in order she had gone to her trunk and taken out the pink gingham to lay it ready upon the bed. Perhaps, too, she wanted to take a last look at 1t. It was so pretty, so fresh, and, l Tn a way of it's own. so suggestive of the days coming happiness! She had never worn 1t before, and it on this particular day, when there would be somebody to see it who had said a few weeks ago, 'sDesiree, you are like blush-rose in it's first bloom." She had thought of that speech when she chose the pink dress ra- ther than blue one Would not pink dress make her look more like rose than eyer2 So there it laylupon the bed, and Desiree stood and regarded it with grow ing pleasure, feeling little excited in prospective, her little brown head on one side, Ike a robins, her brightest bloom upon her soft round checks.
 But before half the morning had passed over every thing had changed. She had got the churning out of the way, and cleared the kitchen, and was just standing at the back-door feeding her pet brood of chickens s-round, plump little downy things, q little like herself in type-when her grandmother came out on to the porch and spoke to her.
 "Desire, she said, in her plaintive, melancholy tone (she never called the child by her pretty French name-the name her young mother had chosen out of one of her secretly read romances: Mrs. Reid was inclined to regard every thing French as dangerous and worldly)-''De- sire. slIe said, ..you are trying to tan
 {. Eat Ishighs try long time without succeeding" answered Desiree, cheerful ly. her happy mood defying even grand mother to disturb it. ''You know don't tan, granny
 Mrs. Reid regarded her discontentedly. | "Bart says" she began.
 Deslree's cheeks caught an extra glow of pink all at once. She did not want to hear about Bart.
 "Bart IS always saying something" she spoke up, trife pettishly.
 "Deslre, returned Mrs. Reid, ill & mo- notonous sort of disapproval, q am afraid you are growing very worldly and umbrid- led of speech. You were not always so uncharitably mind toward Bart. It is not becoming to you either. What he Rsaid was nothing concerning you; It was only about the young from Hamlinford-that Mir. Ruysland."
 Desiree bent lower over her chickens. She quite felt her heart beat in her throat. Oh dear, how sharp and bad tempered she was, and what mistake she had made! What might she not have missed hearing. all through her own evil tendencies! 1t would be just punishment if granny kept the rest to herself. She felt almost tearfni about 1t. She was such a sensi- tive, childish little creature that the tears were never very far from her dark soft eyes.
 ''Now, Blackwing, don't be greedyr' she faltered, faintly, to fill up the pause, as 1t were; "Brighteye and Speckle want some,"
 "Bart only said," ended Mrs. Reid, that he had been called away"
 Deslree forgot her chickens that instant. She stood up, with her eyes wide open, the picture of fear and wonder.
 '"That he had" she said-'sBart him. self?"
 Luckily Mrs. Reid was not the sort of person to read expression rapidly,
 "You are dropping all your meal. De- sire," sne said. s'No, not Bart-Mr. Ruysland; so Bart will have to preach in his place." @-
 It was then that the change came. The sun became too hot, the garden too glar ing Tn it. profusion of brilliant bloom. The pinE dress lost its charm; 1t was of no value. He was not coming. There would be no long, sweet, warm afternoon for her spent on the front porch, in the shade of the jasmine and honeysuckle, with some body tai1lng Tn a low, gentle, familiar voice; nc long, sweet, moon-lit evening: no precasus Sunday, with lingering walk to and fDm the meeting house. It came upon hel life dreadful shock. And vet It would probably seem such trifing dis appointment to men and women who have hved long enough to forget the bitter sweets oi seventeen years
 You gre giving those chickens too much to sat" said Mrs. Reid. 'sYou had better cone into the house and leave them to themselves. And she walked in her. self as quietly as she had walked out.
 That vas how it had happened. De- siree lefther downy brood, and went up stairs to put the pink dress out of sight. She laidit in the trunk again, poor little seull qute solemnly, as in sort of tomb, and she !hed divers large, bright tears over 1t.
 :, "I don't care about il" she said, bite ously; 'Idon't care about anything. I couldn't pear to put it on."
 And hGe now she stood at the gate. with her mall linen hat pulled down over her eyes, partly to hide them. partly be- cause theiong stretch of white dusty road seemed glare so. She scarcely knew l why she vas looking out. There was no one to lok for; nobody was coming. or. at least, lobody whose appearance would affect hel Somebody was coming-a very insignificant somebody. howeyer-a tail young mn on horseback, who logged along toyard the house quietly enough.
 "Nobdy but Bart, :" she said. ssthink- ing of wht he shall say tomorrow. and settling q the hymns He never thinks of any thng else !"