Litchfield enquirer., 1874-12-03

-
 swered. ''He IS very ill; has been fo
 some time, too. poor fellowl Isn't 1t ra
 ther warm for you out here, Daisy?'' Cha fancy that she was like daisy, and Ii had given her the name in her childhood though I doubt if he had ever told her Q the fancy.) r-..... t.a cit is too warm every where, " 1istlessiy s'I suppose must have come out here t cool, though hardly know. I may a
 we'll go in and see about supper. Itis 1
 long ride to the Rudd place, and I dar
 say you are hungry"
 She turned away and walked toward tn
 house, Bart following her, 8 queer wist
 fnlness in his strong Saxon face. Sh
 did not know that the shadow of her ha
 was very poor pretense at disguise
 She did not know great many thing
 about Bart. It had never occurred to he
 m her life that Bart noticed any thing bu
 ''awakenings" in people.
 'sI am afraid. Bart said, .'that the con
 gregation will be disappointed tomorrow
 Ruysland is so popular, and they are .ex
 pectlng to hear him."
 ''Why didn't he come?" faltered De
 free. Granny only said that he had beel
 called away. z.. E.,- ...- --- a-e
 ''He sent word to me, ;" answered Bart
 gravely. 'that he was obliged to go tt
 Hamlinford. There must have been som,
 imperative reason for his going, thouel
 he did not mention it." .,.. .l
 Desiree made no comment. It wa. quite enough for her to know that he wa! not coming She did not care about an, thing else. She went into the house tt prepare supper, and as she stood at tht table before the window making up hel biscuit she fell to watching Bart wedding his axe at the wood pile. It had always seemed an odd sort of thing to her tha Bart should have taken to preaching al his profession. He was not her ideal of !, minister of the gospel He was too big and strong and simple, and too undigni fled. How could any one ever imagine MT Ruysland splitting stove wood, or, indeed doing anything but preaching those ten der, poetic sermons that people cried un der ? Bart's sermons were so different Good and honest, of course. but Desiret was so used to hearing his doctrine every day, and to seeing it work itself into his life, that it had no novelty, and never i'm pressed her much. It was only Bart Bart was distant relative of hers, and as he had been left an orphan to granny: care, just as she herself had been left they had seen as much of each other as any brother and sister, am afraid there had always been tendency to undervalue the good fellow in Desiree's mind. She was always sweet-tempered and gentle with him, and the tendency was a strictly private one, but still it had it's existence Granny clung so to him, and was so prone to praise his virtues in her cheerless plaintive style, that Desiree had a fancy that he could not need her very much. and so she gave herself up to her chickens and other pets, and lavishing her extra affec tion upon them, lived quiet, innocent, happy enough girls life. a ..s
 But when MT. Ruysland came this was altered. He was ''on the circuit" like Bart, but he was like Bart in nothing else He was a member of an old and once wealthy family; he had lived a life differ. ent from the lives of his simple farming congregations; he had had rare opportu- mites; he was fine, handsome young fe1 low, with a graceful, winning manner, and the very first Sunday morning that his dark eyes fell upon the pretty childish face, looking like fresh apple blossom under the little linen hat, Deslree's fate was sealed. He dined with them that day, aud sat opposite Desiree at table; and after dinner he followed her out on to the vine-covered porch, and made friends with her, even letting her hear something of his personal history. She was such a pretty creature! and her bloom and her sweet shy dark eyes so appealed to his ruling weakness-a passionate love for all things beautiful-that he could not resist the temptation of trying to interest her. Resisting temptation was not Eyerard Ruysland 'Sforte. It was his forte to be hero-the eloquent, handsome young hero who had given up all sorts of easily imagined worldly advantages for the sake of the simple Methodist faith in which he had been brought up. No one knew very definitely what 1t was that he had given up; but 1t was quite clear that he must have made wondrous sacrifice in consent ing to use his talents in the service ot these unsophisticated peoples unsophisti- cated church, and he was admired accord. lngly. It was the most natural thing in the world that he should stay with Bart's fos- ter-mother when he came to preach at the white meeting-house; so after that first visit he saw Desiree often, and it be- came an understood thing that when he had no other engagement he should spend With her the greater part of the spare time left to him between services, and that Ee should walk with Mrs. Reid and her self to the door of church. He was such a friend of Bart's that such friendly famil- larlty would almost be expected of h1m.
 This had been the beginning of it, and end of it was that he drifted farther than he had intended, and did things which af- terward caused h1m frequent twinges of conscience, and many resolutions for the future, which somehow or other were never kept. There were reasons why he should have been generous enough to leave poor little Desiree Reid alone; but then how could he help himself? he often said, when he was thinking over the mat ter. What man, being in her presence, could resist that pretty, blossom-lik face, those soft, timid, appealing eyes? He could not; and yet he. was quite conscious that he ought to have done so, and of course would have been ready to make any sacrifice for her happiness but this first one of denying himself. It is so easy to mediate on far-of heroism, so diff cult to cut of little self-indulgence quite uSdE Ht uaQu!
 So 1t went on for several months. and Desiree's life was full of him-full of her dreams of him, full of the lingering re- full of her innocent hopes and gentle fears. Surely he must love her, and yet how could he? Surely he would not say that she was dear to him in every look and gesture unless he meant 1t. So true, so brave, so grand, so self sacrificing, so heroic, and yet mean to be cruel to an untaught girl whose first young love he had won Her sweet ig- norance knew of no such faIsehood as that; so she went on believing in him, and trusting to the coming of the time when he would be able to speak plainly. There was something in the way now-that was it. And when she said her prayers at plight and morning she prayed, half timid- ly. that the time might not be long, and that she might be made worthy of her happiness.
 She could not help feeling her disap- pointment keenly to-day. She had look ed forward 10 this visit with such & trem- ulous longing! The last time some ten der influence had seemed to draw them nearer to each other than they had ever been before, and she had felt that surely t0-6av uouId rof nos wikhouf o c,Ioo~o ee