Litchfield enquirer., 1875-07-15

\ receding courage. aild ignominiously re- treat. Following a well-trodden path I came to stile, over which passed into a lane that led past large garden behind the house, and on to little gate admit ting me to the inclosure in which the house stood. It was a long narrow wood en structure of two stories, with deep porch over the front door. In by-gone years some thrifty owner had painted it white. but time and the weather had since succeeded in toning 1t down to 8 dull gray, far more in keeping with the land scape, and a luxuriant wOodbine, that cOv- cred the porch and ran thence to the roof, gave its only claim to beauty.
 I knocked at the door, and tidy ser- want admitted me to plainly furnished room. where the table was laid for supper. In few moments a lady entered, whose venerable and placid face at once won my regard. She was Mrs. Jameson, and when I Imentioned my name she received me very kindly, expressing regret that I had been obliged to take long walk. ex- plained that circumstances made 1t advis- able for me to enter at once upon some sphere of action and as this opportunity presented itself, accepted 1t without waiting for formalities. After some fur ther conversation, she led the way to an apartment on the other side of the front entry, and when the door opened I was surprised at the elegance and taste of its arrangements. The carpet covering the floor looked like golden brown moss sprinkled with harebells and the furniture was covered with damask .to. correspond with these colors. The white muslin cur. tains were looped with blue cords, and in the windows hung baskets filled with flow CTS and trailing vines. Two or three fine paintings and some engravings ornament ed the walls. One glance showed me this unexpected refinement. and then my eyes were fixed on the idol for whom love had decked this shrine. On the sofa near the front windows-which had been lengthen- ed 70 the floor for her accommodation Amy Jameson lay, propped with cushions into half-sitting posture. She had been told was there, and her face turned ea- gerly to the door as l entered. I caught my breath to suppress cry of admira- tion. Was she mortal or an angel, this girl whose perfect head and face were united to crippled and suffering body :? Yet as she reclined, her limbs hidden by her long, full garments, there was no trace of pain or trouble except in the extreme delicacY of her complexion, and the lan- guid, patient expression of her face when at rest. When she spoke this vanished, and her smile was the sweetest ever saw She held out her hand to me, and the sleeve falling back revealed an arm and hand so white and perfectly formed no sculptor could hope to equal it.
 Sweet Amy Jameson-Aimee, loved ! : was 1t love or was 1t suffering that had so purified and etherealized her. that there seemed to remain to her no trace of mor- tai weakness, except her physical infrm- ity? asked myself this question many times during the following days, as I studied her transparent nature and learn ed the history of her life. Her mother had died while she was an infant, but those who remained had supplied to her all a mothers love and care. Her father was a man of education and refinement, and having been unfortunate in mercan- tile enterprises, had retired with the wreck of bis fortune to this farm, Amy's inheri- tamce from her mother. A rheumatic fe- yer, contracted in her childhood, was the beginning of disease of the nerves and muscles which for some years subjected Amy, at intervals, to months of incessant pain. Gradually these attacks became less frequent, and during the last year had entirely ceased but her limbs were so twisted and distorted as to make 1t im- possible she should ever walk. Yet this disease had left the vital parts untouched, and now her health was good, and she might look forward to a long life of help IeSsneSs.
 She was naturally gifted with fine men tai powers, and had improved every inter- val of ease to continue the education so sadly interrupted, and was eager through my aid to acquire the modern languages, and advance more rapidly than she had hitherto been able to do. When I knew all this, I thought how helpless she must always be, how liable to recurrence of her torturing disease, how isolated from all that makes the joy of youth, how de- barred from the hope and the glory of womanhood, and saw that her sensitive and thoughtful nature realized 1t all, I marveled at the peace and cheerfulness that seemed to pervade her life and envel- 0D her whole being. Her wonderful beauty of person soon appeared to me hut 8 development of her pure and lovely soul. It would have been incongruous to have seen if otherwise manifested than through the motions of those graceful hands through the tones of that low, ten der voice through the expressions of that face, with its transparent complexion, like rese-tinted alabaster, its large brown eyes that the dropping lashes shaded into blackness, its broad low brow, over which the parted chestnut hair rippled back in heavy curves that gleamed golden in the sunshine. To my restless and fervid tenn perament she was, from the first, like moonlight. like dew, like whatever there is Tn nature to soOthe aRd bless; and I loved her before she had spoken my name, although weeks passed before I under stood the secret of that charm
 During the week after my arrival at the farmhouse often heard the minister. Mir. Blakesley, referred to, and his opinions quoted, as if he was sort of oracle for these good folk He had been absent from his parish for 8 time and his return was daily expected. His church was situ- ated in a small manufacturing village. four miles distant, and Mr. and Mrs. Jameson drove thither every Sabbath morning. OccasionlY he preached in the school House located near, where, by his efforts, a Sunday school had been gathered. All this would hardly have moved me to con- quer the bitter feeling that made any sem blanca of worship repugnant to me. had not Amy revealed to me her hope that I might be able to take notes of the sermons her father and grandmother praised so much, and yet failed to remember in the preachers own words. For her sake I accompanied them to church.
 The edifice was large though cheaplv and plainly built. We were early, and as we waited for the seats to be filled, let the mourning vail wore drop over my face, while. suggested by the time and place, flood of memorles rushed. over my soul. Suddenly voice said, s.Let us pray. I started at the tone at the slow, distinct iitterance; and as the inzocation went on my eyes were riveted on the speaker, yexing myself to think where I had met him. The face was wholly un- familiar. but the voice haunted me with an echo from some unforgotten time. The prayer and singing ended, he began to read psalm, and when he had reached a certain verse, the truth flashed upon me. He was the person whose voice had arrest ed me in that hour of desperation and